"Yes," answered Aunt Love, recalled by his tone from her heedless flight
of enthusiasm. "This pin will always make me vain and happy," she added,
"and I thank you from my heart, Mr. Jack, for thinkin' about me."
"You have been an important person in my thoughts this fall," said the
young man, as he handed her the thimble, "for you can tell me of my
father."
Jack looked thoughtfully at his cigar, and Aunt Love, from her
neighboring chair, looked at him.
"I will tell you," she said, after waiting a moment to see if her guest
wished to proceed. "I will tell you everything I can. Do you want to
ask me questions, or shall I just talk to you a little?"
"I want to know just how ill he was through the summer. I was
deliberately kept in the dark."
Miss Berry was alert to perceive the resentment in the quiet tone.
"He wasn't ill at all. Not so to say real sick," she replied. "His
head didn't feel quite right after that light shock he got in the
spring, and he thought he was takin' every precaution by comin' out of
all the excitement of his busy life, right to this farm. The doctor
said it was just the best thing he could do; and Mrs. Van Tassel"--
"Then he was not confined to his bed here?"
"No, indeed. Not a day. He had a steamer chair out under the big elm,
and it never seemed to fret him a bit to be idle; and his wife"--
"He used to write me from under that tree," said Jack thickly.
"Yes, indeed he did; and he liked to be read to, and to play backgammon;
and whenever Mrs. Van Tassel"--
"I ought to have been here to wait on him. What I was cheated out of!"
"But, Mr. Jack," Miss Berry spoke pleadingly, "you was trampin' through
Switzerland, and just havin' the best time of all. Your father used to
have guide-books and atlases, and follow up what you were doin' every
day. Why, he entered into it, and enjoyed it just as if it was himself.
He didn't know, and Mrs. Van Tassel didn't know, that there wasn't many
another summer comin'."
"It makes it especially hard," said Jack, still staring at the forgotten
cigar, dropped now into the saucer, "that I had been away from him four
years already. The past summer is the one I should have spent with him.
It seems as though the regret and the loss could never be forgotten.
There never was such a father as mine." The speaker's features worked
convulsively an instant. "The world is only a big, barren desert,
without him, and I might have had all those months. I might"--
Aunt Love used to feel an especial tenderness for Jack when she tucked
him into bed at night, because he had no mother to do it for him, and
she had often kissed the child after he was asleep, for the same reason.
Now his pale face in its pain and effort at self-mastery appealed to her
irresistibly. In a moment she had slipped her arm around his shoulders,
and with her other hand drawn his head gently against her breast.
"I know you've been hurt awful bad, dear heart," she said, tears running
down her own cheeks, as she softly patted his hair.
For Jack, he did not stop to be astonished. It was too comforting to
have the barriers of his self-restraint forcibly broken down. From the
time when furtive bitter drops had added to the ocean's brine, as he
meditated at evening on board the home-coming ship in cold November, no
loving human soul had dared till now to take his grief into full
companionship. Aunt Love's primitive, spontaneous method worked well.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to her that he should weep
in her embrace, on the ample bosom of her black silk gown; and who shall
say what a comfort it was to Jack, with no spectators but the haircloth
chairs and sofa, to be held close in loving arms after weeks of lonely,
speechless heartache under a conventional exterior.
"You are very good to me," he said at last, and though he leaned back in
his chair, he continued to hold one of Aunt Love's plump hands as though
she were a sort of anchor which he could not let go all at once.
"And now you've got to be patient with me just a minute, dear boy," said
his companion, "and listen to something you won't like to hear, perhaps.
My conscience wouldn't rest easy unless I told you a little about your
father's wife."
"I know her," said Jack. "I don't want you to think I doubt her
kindness to him. I am jealous of her. That is all."
"Kindness ain't just the word," persisted Aunt Love. "I can imagine
your father livin' through such a summer as last was, and havin' a
pretty weary time of it, cut off from so much that had made his life
before. Now I just want you to picture this young woman, a pretty,
girlish critter that had seen trouble enough to make her low-spirited if
she'd had a mind to be, just studyin' to make the days pleasant for him.
She was cheerful in just such a stiddy way as a brook is; not much noise
about it, but always right there, singin' if so be you want it. She
played games with your dear father, or she read to him, or she waited on
him, or she just set and sewed and let him look at her, whichever
happened to suit his mood; and he bein' always thoughtful and tender of
her, 'twas just a pleasure to see 'em together. She hunted up maps and
articles about places you was travelin', and from sunrise till sunset
she just had one idea, and that was whether anything could make Mr. Van
Tassel any more comfortable than he was. He was a happy man in spite of
the new weakness which might have made him miserable. Ain't that
somethin' for you to remember when you think of the woman that bears his
name? You know some kinds o' clover brings the person that finds it good
luck. I often used to think o' that as I watched 'em together, and I
thought your father had found one of the best sort. It's a good name
for her. Clover's just like her, unpretendin' and sweet, whether it's
red or white; always cheerful and innocent, distillin' honey for
mankind." Miss Berry paused a minute before she went on: "The word
_father_ means a great deal to you, Mr. Jack. It was the heavenly
Father that gave that lovely companion to soothe Mr. Van Tassel's last
days; and the same all-lovin' Father has permitted a great blow to fall
upon you; but the Holy One whose birthday we are keepin' to-day said
that in this world we must have tribulation, and He told us, too, be of
good cheer. The Saviour did overcome the world; there is a heaven, your
father has gone to it, and you and I are both bound for it. It's the
main concern we've got in life to get ready for it. Let your sorrow
help you along, Mr. Jack, and don't shut anybody out o' your generous
heart, least of all the woman I've been talkin' about."
Van Tassel took an eight o'clock train back to Boston that night. He
walked to the station with a lighter step than the one that had carried
him from it. Some subtle influence had softened him; some poisoned
rankling dart had been drawn away. A crescent moon hung in the sky. The
quiet snowclad village suggested more than ever the idea of a Christmas
picture, and the song that the angels once sang, as they floated through
the starry heavens, seemed now to fall like a benediction from above:
"Peace on earth, good will to men."
*CHAPTER XI.*
*THE DEDICATION.*
Gorham Page thought he perceived a change for the better in the spirits
of his cousin, after that visit to Pearfield, but Jack said little about
the event. It was well into the New Year, when the two happened to be
alone in the office one afternoon, that Jack mentioned his father's
widow voluntarily for the first time since his return.
"Did I understand you to say, Gorham, that Clover sent word to me that
she should not return to the Hyde Park house?"
"Yes."
"Do you think it was because she felt enmity, or because she feared it?"
"Why, it is your house," said Page. "It was left to you, as it turns
out."
"Yes, but what difference does that make?" returned the other, with a
tinge of impatience, the unreasonableness of which made his cousin
smile.
"She wished you to feel full liberty in coming back," said the latter.
"She broke down when she spoke of it, I remember."
"I don't like that," asserted Jack, turning over the pages of
Blackstone. "I don't like to have Clover exiled from a comfortable
place, where she would like to be. It is a dog-in-the-manger business
that doesn't suit me in the least."
"I guess you needn't worry about the matter," remarked Page. "Mrs. Van
Tassel is in no condition to bear a Chicago winter."
"Do you mean she is ill?" asked the other, shutting the heavy book
suddenly.
"I don't know. She looks like alabaster, or something that would be
easily broken. Miss Bryant was evidently much distressed about her."
Jack fell into a brown study. It sounded strange to hear his cousin
speak of these old schoolmates by such names. The idea of Clover,
jolly, laughing Clover, with her sunburned cheeks and dancing blue
eyes,--the idea that any one should speak of her as looking like
alabaster. And Miss Bryant! It was a jest in itself to hear his serious
cousin refer in that tone, and by such a dignified title, to Mildred.
It was more than two years since Jack had seen the romping girl, whose
heavy hair would never remain in its braid, and who, it seemed, would
never cease outgrowing her clothes.
He thought of the sisters for some time, while Page went on with his
work. He recalled the little boy and girl who had loved him, and gentle
Mrs. Bryant, whose mother-heart had always made him welcome equally with
her own children. They had all gone now to that world which had lately
gained definite interest for him. Had Clover and Mildred suffered
yearning and loss comparable to his? The mere thought, tolerantly
admitted, gave him a new feeling toward his old comrades.
At last he spoke again. "Where did Mrs. Van Tassel say they were
going?"
It was the first time he had given his friend her title. Page observed
it.
"California," he answered sententiously.
"That doesn't tell anything."
Page smiled slightly. "Perhaps that is just what she considered," he
returned, and Jack thought that Gorham was a provoking, dry sort of
fellow.
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do," he said, rising. "I'm going to
Chicago."
"Are you? Well, you are that favored species of individual who can
control his own movements."
"Yes. They've ceased pulling hair out there, and have decided to locate
the Fair in Jackson Park, quite near our house, you remember."
"So I observed. They have lost a good deal of time in controversy, it
strikes me. They will have to scratch gravel now."
And this, if Mr. Page had only known it, was literally what had begun to
be done out there in Chicago, in the unreclaimed district which bordered
Jackson Park on the south.
Sand-dunes, and marshes, woodland and slough, had all to be effaced, for
a new earth must be offered in time to be the foundation for those
castles in the air, which were already creating in men's brains.
As the scope of the proposed work unfolded and became clear, the time
began to seem nigh to hopelessly short for its accomplishment. Of
public opinion in the East, the kindest expression continued
patronizing, amused, and skeptical; the average, contemptuous and
hostile.
But Chicago, which had formed a habit of making stepping-stones of
obstacles, now said "I will" with greater doggedness of purpose than
ever before, and sending steam dredges to invade the wilderness, began
the patient, laborious grubbing, which was necessary to excavate in one
place, and fill in in another. Meanwhile the oldest inhabitant wandered
about, looking on, wondering and fascinated. The maiden, going in
advance of the feller of trees, caught with her kodak a farewell glimpse
of the wood-road, that had furnished a foothold amid the sand for the
spring violets of her childhood. The small boy looked longingly at the
sloughs, which had been first to freeze in autumn, and thought it a
thousand pities that Chicago had been so brave as to deserve the Fair.
The Eastern papers thought so too, and still exercised the virtue of
frankness to the fullest extent; but Chicago, with all her reputation
for talking, now had no time for such indulgence; but emulated Uncle
Remus's famous tar-baby, who, it will be remembered, when Brer Rabbit
jeered at her once and again, still "ain't sayin' nothin'." She only
grubbed away, and her citizens prepared themselves for the long pull,
the strong pull, and the pull all together, which should win ultimate
triumph.
When Jack arrived there, he found his city in all the excitement of work
and plans and anticipation. His father's Scotch housekeeper, Jeanie, was
in possession as of old when he reached home, and gave him a reception
in which tears mingled with cordiality. "It's all different without
your father, Mr. Jack," she mourned, "but we must bear it,--we must bear
it."
Jack went through the house, finding changes in every room but his own.
In that one, every object was familiar.
Jeanie had nothing but good words for her young mistress. She was ready
to praise her as long as Jack would have patience to listen. Miss
Bryant, too, came in for a share of her voluble encomiums; but she did
not know where they were, for though Mrs. Van Tassel wrote her an
occasional note, she said they were moving about from place to place.
The upshot of Jack's trip was, that he went back to Boston and his
cousin's office, and waited for destiny to show him some natural way of
communicating his generous impulses to Clover.
So he lived through the winter, keeping up some interests in common with
certain of his classmates, and gaining a reputation for touchiness
regarding his native city, with whose exertions he felt a loyal and
filial sympathy. It made him hot to read and hear frequent allusions to
prove that the public was still holding its sides with merriment over
the exquisite humor of the idea that upstart, pork-packing Chicago
should undertake to conceive and carry out a true World's Fair, one fit
to follow the great similar achievements of the Old World nations, and
to be an adequate embodiment of the high ideas which gave birth to the
enterprise.
It was little mollifying to him to perceive that much of the sneering
had at least the merit of genuineness; that there was much sincere
incredulity of Chicago's ability to rise to an occasion so remote from
her habits and experience. With his Cambridge training, his youth, and
his years of absence from home, he might have sympathized in all this,
more with than against the Eastern element, but for his father's active
labors, and his own knowledge of the men who had the matter in hand.
Only once Jack heard of Clover and Mildred during the summer that
followed. He visited Miss Berry again, and heard from her that Mrs. Van
Tassel's health was reestablished, and that the sisters had taken a trip
to Alaska. He asked her to convey to them, for him, an earnest
invitation to return to the homestead, whenever they pleased.
Once again, in the winter, he learned from the same source of
information that they had gone to Europe. In June, Van Tassel and Page
took a trip through the English and Scottish lakes together. Clover and
Mildred evidently wished to live a life apart. Very well, it should be
as they pleased; but Jack could not help looking for them at each little
inn where his and Page's horses stopped. His father's memory was still
a living, ever-present one, and persons so strongly associated with him
could not be forgotten.
In the autumn the young men came home to find the country absorbed in
Columbian celebrations. Red and yellow was as popular a combination as
red, white, and blue. Columbus was pictured on every hand. There was
no sameness, no fear of monotony about these representations. He was
shown thin and stout, old and young, fair and dark, narrow-visaged and
rotund of countenance. Meanwhile, the dedication in his honor drew on
apace.
The twentieth of October, Chicago was to be clothed in bunting, and the
great men of the country were to be drawn by prancing steeds through her
streets. On the twenty-first, the Exposition buildings were to be
dedicated to their splendid use, and Jack Van Tassel told his cousin
that they must both be present at the ceremonies. Page demurred, but Van
Tassel had his way, and ten o'clock of that sunshiny, clear, Friday
morning found the two men entering the grounds, where a sense of
roominess was the first sensation, after struggling in the city's crowd.
Jack felt his breast swell with pride in the fair scene, incomplete, yet
already inspiring; but he forbore from being the first to comment. Let
the Boston man speak; and he finally did. Page's eyes slowly took in an
overwhelming impression of the general scheme,--of what had already
been, and what would be accomplished. Then he spoke:--
"This is great--so far."
The words were balm to his companion.
Page went on.
"But Eastern men designed these palaces. Eastern art"--
"Now look here," burst forth Jack. "Don't try to apologize for
Chicago's achievement. She hasn't got there yet, quite, of course, but
she is arriving. She had sense enough to make this Fair a national and
not a local business. You're surely not surprised at that? She
understood it that way from the first. They are not all Chicago men who
have done this work, but be kind enough to remember that they are
Chicago men who have laid the brains of this country under contribution,
and whose indomitable energy has been the steam which has actuated the
vast machinery of construction from the beginning, and will do so to the
end. Don't explain it, my friend; just say it is stupendous, and pass
on."
Page, as he silently obeyed, remembered Mildred Bryant's prophetic words
in the Portland train:--
"It is very fortunate for the country that we have taken the Fair."
It began to look that way; still herculean tasks remained.
Jack had received an invitation to witness the parade from the loggia of
the Mining building, and the cousins bent their steps thither, between
the lines of waiting spectators. At present, the building was used as
barracks for troops. The two glanced down the neat perspective of
soldier beds, as they ran up the broad flight of steps leading to the
gallery, then they came out upon the balcony that faces north, and
looked with interest upon the scene. Flags in great numbers were flying
from every roof. The waterways and Wooded Island lay before them in the
October sunlight.
They were talking of the names of buildings, and discussing the fabulous
measurements of the mountain called Manufactures and Liberal Arts, when
a new party appeared from the gallery doorway. The new-comers advanced
to an arch a couple of rods from where the young men were standing, and
Jack, who was profoundly interested in his subject, merely received an
impression of beauty and fashion as he glanced at them, and then,
looking back, returned to his statistics.
"If they can only have good weather the coming winter," he went on, "the
thing will be ready May 1st, in spite of the croakers."
Soft laughter and happy voices came from beyond the massive masonry,
which half concealed their neighbors.
"Jack," said Page, in a low tone, "Mrs. Van Tassel and Miss Bryant are
with that party."
"No! Why, I didn't see them."
"Yes. Mrs. Van Tassel has some kind of a gray and white dress on, and
Miss Bryant"--
"I want to get out of here, then."
Page answered him sharply.
"Is it your intention to play the role of Indian toward those ladies the
rest of your life?"
"No, nothing of the kind," returned Van Tassel uncomfortably. "I am
more willing to see them than they probably are to see me. I don't
blame Clover, if she chooses never to meet me again. I suppose she
remembers as clearly as I do some of the last things I said to her.
Whew!" for in changing their positions one member of the party had
stepped back into plain sight, "what a stunning girl they have with
them!"
"That was Miss Bryant," said Page.
"No, no. You didn't see the one I meant. Splendid creature; carried her
head as though the Fair was built expressly for her."
"Yes, that was Miss Bryant. I have met her a number of times. Perhaps
I had better go over and speak to her."
"Don't think of it till I am out of the way," and Jack grasped his
cousin's arm. "That, Mildred? Milly _Bryant_?" he added incredulously,
looking reminiscently into that young woman's past, and seeing a
combination of tanned countenance, rough hair, and old clothes revealing
surplus wrist and ankle; a picture which refused to have relation to the
trim and elegant young creature who had caught his eye.
This revelation increased to a panic Jack's desire not to intrude upon
these friends. As though to enlighten him still further, Mildred
insisted that her sister should step back also, and see some vista,
which her own movement had brought into range.
Jack instinctively shrank more closely into the shadow of his pillar,
while Page sympathetically followed his example, and both stole glances
at Clover's pleased, unconscious face; a changed face from that which
either of the men knew as hers. Jack saw in it the signs of a greater
maturity and life-experience, as well as the subtle charm which exists
in a lovely woman whose advantages are set off by tasteful and
fashionable attire. Page saw what still seemed to him an angelic
countenance, only made earthly by the tints of healthy youth, alert with
interest; these smiling lips were but distantly related to the rigid,
delicate mouth he remembered.
Clover vanished again, recalled by her companions' interest in a company
of cavalry who galloped in golden glory across a distant bridge.
"I wish I was out of this," exclaimed Jack. "They may all take it into
their heads to come over here any minute. If the girls were alone, I
shouldn't mind it. They could behave as they pleased then; but with
mutual friends it would be very awkward for them. Dick Ogden is in the
party. I can hear his laugh this minute. I'm going, Gorham."
"Very well, I too, then. Here comes some governor and his staff."
"Yes, it is Russell. The crowd is safe to cheer now and wave
handkerchiefs for live minutes. It is our chance. We sha'n't be
noticed. Come."
Jack started across the loggia with Page beside him. As ill luck would
have it, the only one of the party by the balcony who turned idly
curious eyes to look after the pair was his friend Ogden.
"Why there's--it _is_ Van Tassel!" ejaculated the latter. "_Oh_, Van."
How Jack anathematized the cheerful, loud voice. He turned a deaf ear
and hastened on.
"Van Tassel!" bawled the other. "Here, what's the matter with you?
They're here, old fellow."
There is no creature so difficult to escape as the man who is convinced
he is doing you a favor.
Jack could hear the legs of his persecutor's chair grate on the flooring
as he sprang to his feet. He paused and turned around, knowing that if
he persisted, his misguided friend would not hesitate to pursue and
capture him in his zeal.
"They're right here," repeated Ogden explanatorily, his ingenuous florid
face beaming. "Wasn't it curious you should have passed by, so near and
yet so far?"
Van Tassel and Page advanced, the former with a rigidly impassive
countenance. It seemed long to him that he was crossing the ten feet of
balcony which lay between him and the young women whose reception he
feared sensitively.
Ogden, and doubtless their other friends, supposed them united by ties
of intimacy. Much as he disliked to obtrude himself upon them, to
permit strangers to suppose that he was not pleased to meet these ladies
would set many tongues wagging and was not to be considered. Better to
risk a snub than to appear disloyal to those his father had honored.
But he need not have feared. Clover and Mildred were not the
inexperienced girls of his acquaintance. They had taken in the
situation as keenly as he had done, and when he reached them were ready
to greet him and Mr. Page in a matter-of-course manner, calculated to
divert suspicion had any existed. The circumstances, moreover, were
favorable. The common interest of the parade at once claimed the
attention of all, and after Page had been introduced to the strangers of
the party, Jack drew a breath of relief that at any rate the ice was
broken.
He stood near Mildred, looking down upon the gay plumes, uniforms, and
prancing steeds of the procession, and wished she would address him. Was
this the girl who had always been eagerly ready to act as crew of his
boat, whose strong arms had not been of contemptible assistance in
bailing her out? who had received his invitations to sail in a thankful
spirit, being thereby richly repaid for her physical exertions? She had
sometimes needed to be snubbed out of too energetic participation in his
own and Clover's plans. She had been a good fellow always, Jack
remembered, even if occasionally inconveniently effervescent in the
matter of animal spirits; had been an honest, fair antagonist, with a
brave love of sport.
It struck Van Tassel as very curious that he should be so meekly
desirous now of a crumb of friendly notice from one who had looked up to
him so long and loyally.
He wished he could forget some of those heated things he had said to
Clover on that miserable afternoon. Of course she had repeated them to
her sister, and he felt uncomfortably sure that the memory of them was
even now seething beneath the jetted crown of Miss Bryant's hat.
He envied Page the unconsciousness with which he could lean toward
either sister, making and receiving comments. Clover's sweet face moved
him with a tide of thought that gave his eyes a sad expression, which
she caught on the only occasion when she looked up into his face.
On the whole, it was an uncomfortable half-hour which Jack spent in that
loggia. The talk and laughter of the others gave him a feeling of
remoteness and isolation. He wanted Clover or Mildred to speak to him,
and they did not. He could not address them without a bit of
encouragement. It was a relief to him when it was proposed to forsake
the interminable lines of militia which were filing by the
Transportation Building, and adjourn in search of luncheon.
Page seemed determined to accept Dick Ogden's urgent invitation that the
cousins should continue of the party, and indeed Gorham started off
gayly with Mildred, as though it were a matter of course that Jack
should follow. The consequence was that, feeling a good deal as though
the whole experience were a dream of the Thanksgiving variety, Van
Tassel found himself after a while placed next Clover at table. On her
other side sat Dick's mother, a lady remarkable for an imposing figure
and a fluffy pompadour of curling white hair. As this personage
declared that the morning in the open air had given her an alarming
appetite and proceeded to apply her full attention to its demands,
conversation with her languished. Jack observed this, and renouncing
the nightmare idea with an effort, endeavored to make necessity serve
him.
"You have been abroad all summer, I believe," he remarked to his
neighbor.
"Yes, longer than that," returned Clover. Her self-possession seemed
untroubled; but in reality she suffered, too, from mingled emotions.
She pitied Jack, but resented the fact that circumstances had forced
them together, and his presence evoked memories overwhelmingly bitter
and tender.
"Gorham Page and I did the lake regions of England and Scotland this
year," he went on. "Did you happen to be in that vicinity?"
"No, we stayed in Switzerland during the summer months."
"You have seen much of the world in the last two years."
"Yes. Mildred and I feel ourselves quite experienced travelers."
"Shall you be satisfied to settle down now for a time?"
"I can hardly tell. We have formed a dangerous habit."
"Are you"--Jack looked busily into his plate--"Are you stopping at
home--at the old house?"
"We have no home yet. We mean to settle down some day and make one."
"Why, have you parted with that dear old place, Mrs. Van Tassel?" asked
Mrs. Ogden sonorously, helping herself again to chicken salad.
"Mrs. Van Tassel finds it rather large for her purposes, I fancy,"
answered Jack quickly, "and our old housekeeper mourns her defection;
but we haven't parted with the place. I was there in January, Clover,
and Jeanie shed a few tears in her homesickness for you. I haven't seen
her yet this time. Page and I only got in yesterday, and we went to the
Great Northern."
Jack did not add that this unusual step was taken because he hoped that
Clover and her sister might have returned and taken advantage of the
invitation he sent them long ago through Miss Berry.
"Do you know how steadily I have clung to Boston of late?" he continued.
"Aunt Love wrote me you were there with your cousin. Are you going to
adopt it as your home?"
"No indeed. You will think, Mrs. Ogden," leaning forward to speak
across Clover to her neighbor, "that Mrs. Van Tassel and I are very poor
correspondents. Here we have both been roving about for the past year
and waiting to meet in order to learn details about one another's
movements."
"You can't tell me anything about young men as correspondents," replied
Mrs. Ogden feelingly. "When Dick is away, the most I ever expect from
him is a telegram every day or two."
"We're a bad lot," admitted Jack. "No," speaking again to Clover, "I am
a Chicagoan, and just now prouder than ever of the fact. I fancy that
we shall all come home like straying chickens on May 1, '93. Of course
you intend to be here during the Fair?"
"Yes. Mildred and I both anticipate it highly."
"I tell you, Mrs. Van Tassel," put in Mrs. Ogden, "if you don't want to
use your house next summer, you can make a fortune renting it. In that
situation, within walking distance of the grounds, you can get anything
you like to ask for it."
Clover for a second time was about to disclaim any right or title to the
homestead, but Jack besought her with a glance.
"I think we shall find it too convenient to be dispensed with," he said
hastily.
After luncheon the party separated; their invitations to the dedicatory
exercises in the Liberal Arts Building admitting them to different
situations.
The scene was such as one is glad to have assisted in for its uniqueness
if nothing more. Even seeing scarcely made it possible to grasp the
vastness of an auditorium covering forty acres; through whose outer
corridors companies of cavalry passed now and then without making a
noticeable sound within. Theodore Thomas's orchestra with its attendant
singers, a company of six thousand in all, made but a little bright
bouquet in one spot, and the leader was obliged to telephone to the
platform half way down the hall in order to be informed when a speech
had ceased and a musical number might take its turn.
At the end of the building opposite from Thomas, the Mexican band
enlivened the meditations of the few thousands, fifteen or so, who were
hear enough to enjoy their martial strains. Mammoth banners and flags
made gay the grand arches that supported the roof, and each tassel on
those which were so decorated weighed as much as a woman.
Only a Brobdingnagian could have felt at ease in such surroundings, yet
wonderful order was maintained amid this largest audience ever gathered
together under one roof.
Clover and Mildred were near enough to the singers to hear the _piece de
resistance_, Chadwick's inspiring, moving ode, and as she listened
Clover's eyes grew moist under the stress of the day's emotions.
"Jack is evidently very friendly," she said that night to her sister,
when they were alone in their room at the Auditorium.
"He ought to be," returned Mildred shortly.
"He behaved very well and kindly," continued Clover. "The situation was
odious."
"Odious. I should think so," remarked Mildred. "I never disliked that
bawling Dick Ogden as I did when he kept on calling Jack like that.
Don't begin to praise him to me," added the girl, turning toward her
elder a glowing face. "After Jack Van Tassel has dragged around on his
knees a good long time I am going to forgive him. Not before."
Clover looked troubled. "But it might all have been so awkward for us
had he chosen to behave differently," she protested. "It is much easier
for us to lock injuries in our breasts that the world knows nothing of,
than it would be to have a gossiping set of people wondering and
staring. Jack has grasped the bunch of nettles and saved us from those
stings. You can feel as you please about it, but I am grateful."
"I wish he would go away. I wish he'd go to Kamschatka," exclaimed
Mildred hotly. "I can't rid myself, when he is present, of the idea
that he is considering how very differently we should be situated now if
it weren't for dear Mr. Van Tassel."
"Well, it is true."
"Don't be tiresome, Clover. Of course it is true; but Jack has grown so
grave and quietly observing, I feel that I shall not be able to endure
having him about. I like fine clothes and fashionable life generally,
and when I am soaring in my natural element, if Jack is going to give me
those meditative, suggestive stares, it will ruin my pleasure. It is
just as if one had a string about a bird's ankle and could twitch it
down whenever he liked."
"I think you feel so because you haven't talked with him yet, Mildred.
You know Jack was always generous."
"Was he?" the young girl faced her sister. "Was he when he accused you
and insulted you?"
"Oh, I've forgiven him, Milly," returned the other gently, making a
repressive gesture. "I have considered his standpoint a great deal
since then; and we enjoyed his father and benefited by him when the only
son was far away. We even had the priceless privilege of serving him in
his last days, while Jack was unwittingly defrauded. Oh, I should not
have been at all surprised if he had been unable to take me by the hand
to-day. Don't be hard on Jack."
*CHAPTER XII.*
*GORHAM PAGE'S COMMISSION.*
A few days afterward a bell-boy brought Gorham Page's card to Mrs. Van
Tassel's parlor. It was followed shortly by the young man himself, who
felicitated himself upon his good fortune in finding her at home.
"My stay in Chicago will be so short, that had you been out I fear I
should not have met you again," he said. "I am happy to see, Mrs. Van
Tassel," Gorham inspected her with kindly, short-sighted eyes, "that
travel has done all for you Miss Bryant hoped. Your face has quite a
new color and contour."
"No, just my old one," she answered lightly, indicating a seat near her
own. "I am sorry my sister is out; but she is a gay girl," with a
little smiling sigh. "Wherever she is, somehow a number of engagements
seem to crop up."
"Yes. One can see that she is a leader by nature. I should like to
have seen Miss Bryant. However, my errand is with you especially
to-day."
"Oh, it is an errand that has brought you? How unflattering!"
"Not necessarily. It argued nothing unflattering when John Alden
performed his famous errand to Priscilla."
Page looked argumentatively into his hostess's amused eyes.
"Haven't you gone a long way afield for a simile?" she asked.
"No, I think not. I was quite as reluctant as poor John to accept the
mission."
"Then decline it even at this late hour. I am the least curious of
women."
"Impossible." Page shook his head. "Miles Standish is waiting for me
over there at the Northern, and he is in a great state of mind."
"You tempt me to wish I had been out when your card came up.
Perfunctory visits are very uncomfortable. I think you had better
return to your friend, and tell him that Priscilla would not allow you
to speak."
"I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I?" asked Gorham looking up and
half laughing. "You see it is this way. I wanted to come to see you,
and as soon as Jack learned my intention, he burdened me with this
business. He told me to be eloquent, and not being in the least so, I
am overwhelmed by my responsibilities. I had a presentiment, and told
him so, that I should make a mess of the whole affair; but he insisted
upon trusting his messenger as blindly as the Puritan captain of old."
Page had a way of lapsing, as he talked, into a meditative manner.
"And do you insist upon refusing to be warned by John Alden's failure?"
asked Mrs. Van Tassel.
"Oh, I mustn't fail," he returned with prompt simplicity. "That is, if
I do I shall take a room here in the Auditorium for the remainder of my
stay. We all make rather a pet of Jack," he explained. "The thought of
denying him or contradicting him presents itself somewhat in the light
of a catastrophe. What do you think, Mrs. Van Tassel, of the effect on
the average character of a habit of success?"
Really, Clover thought this was one of the oddest men she had ever met;
but his question was so serious that she felt constrained to express an
opinion.
"I am afraid I am no student of character, but I should say it would
have a genial, developing effect."
"Yes, one thinks so at the first blush, and that continued failure would
dwarf the faculties. One can hardly lay down a rule where exceptions
are so numerous; and of course success and failure are never accidents."
"I think they seem to be so very often."
"No," Page shook his head. "Everything is the result of law."
"Then the character that dominates and commands success must grow by
what it feeds upon, and expand in its own sunlight. I was right."
"Yes; but the flowers and fruits of a tropical sun are heavy in scent
and often coarse of flavor: while the flower that struggles for life and
develops in meagre warmth is like the New England arbutus, both strong
and delicate."
"People have such varying standards by which they measure success and
failure," said Clover. "That sort of scanty, hard-won success which
might be typified by the arbutus would scarcely be counted success by
many."
"True," said Page, nodding his head at her thoughtfully. "There ought
to be some reliable touchstone which we could apply to every case."
"Surely there is," replied Clover.
Her guest brightened. "You mean we should judge according to our best
education in right and wrong?"
She nodded. "It amounts to that. It seems to me that all that comes to
us is important only according to its effect on character."
Page looked at her with admiring approval. Here was a woman, a girl in
years, who had thought.
"Are your beliefs simply ethical," he asked, "or are you religious in
the usual acceptation of the word?"
"I suppose I understand you," she replied. "I think if I could not say
that I am religious I should not be here to say anything. I have stood
in places where ethical culture and humanitarianism would not have saved
me."
"Such testimony interests me very much," he answered, "especially from a
young and beautiful woman."
Clover colored with surprise at this bluntness. She need not have
shrunk. Page was as usual making an impersonal statement as nearly
accurate as possible.
"I have not a particle of doubt," he continued, "that there is a world
of causes, and that ours is a world of effects. Why should not the
universe have a soul as well as the human body?"
"Yes; only you do not state it well," returned Clover, entering into his
spirit of analysis. "It is not the body that has the soul, but the soul
that has the body and will be through with it after a while."
Page bowed. "I agree to that. I believe in immortality. We have been
sent upon this plane of existence; and to find out why is a problem of
daily interest."
"Yes. Our wishes were not consulted when we came, and will not be
consulted when we go. It seems evident enough to me that we are being
sent to school."
"Some of us appear to learn very little, though," remarked Page.
"Some of us are set one lesson many times," answered Clover slowly,
"until we learn it. The hand must be unclasped many times before we
learn to relax our rigid hold on what we have considered our own. It is
one great lesson of life, I have found, to learn to be relaxed. You
know how much is said now by physical culturists on the subject of
letting go abnormal tension of the muscles of the body. Isn't the
correspondence interesting? We can only have spiritual self-possession
when we relax the tension of our own wills and let the divine will sway
us."
"We are free agents, though," objected Page, "and we must behave as if
our own wills were all-powerful; else we should never accomplish
anything."
"Oh yes," agreed Clover; "but if one is firmly convinced that the higher
Power is omniscient, there is all the time an undercurrent of
acknowledgment that one is being directed, and it becomes second nature
to ask for the direction in all sorts of wordless ways."
"You believe in that sort of Providence, then?" asked Gorham curiously.
"I believe every one has a God--his own God."
"Yes; my God is a Father who thought it worth while to create me, and
therefore, I am sure, thinks it worth while to lead me through all the
ways I am to traverse. He is close to me all the time. Whether I feel
that I am close to Him, depends entirely on myself."
Page regarded the speaker a moment in silence. Her face looked near to
heaven then, he thought. "Such faith comes more easily to women than to
men, apparently," he said at last.
"Why should it? How strangely people behave and talk, or rather avoid
talking of spiritual things as if such subjects were superstitious. I
suppose perhaps it is because I have had so many dear ones slip away
into the other world that it seems so real to me. It has often been
said that death is the only certain event which we can count on; but
people will cease to shrink from it only when they cease to think of it
as death. No wonder the love of life is strongly implanted. It is all
we need look forward to. The loneliness we have to suffer here," Clover
paused a moment, "is a part of the schooling."
"You have made good use of your experiences," observed Page.
"Not always," returned the other. "Nevertheless, I believe that is the
chief thing we have to do,--to learn something above worldly wisdom from
our experiences little and great."
"So your theory regarding success and failure would simply be to decide
its real nature by its spiritual effect on a man."
"Yes," Clover smiled. "You have thought of that before or you would not
have grasped so quickly what I meant."
Her visitor nodded. "Yes, I have had a similar thought. The greatest
apparent success may amount to a failure if it make a man more arrogant
and selfish than before; and the most dismal failure is a success if
only it brings with it an interior humility and willingness to be
taught."
They talked another quarter of an hour before Page arose and took his
leave. He left his compliments and farewell for Miss Bryant, shook
hands with Clover, and reached the door of the room before he started
and turned back with sudden recollection.
"Why didn't you remind me?" he said reproachfully. "I haven't done my
errand."
Mrs. Van Tassel smiled. "Priscilla's part was a passive one, if I
recollect rightly."
"But you also recollect the rough temper of Captain Standish. I think
you are rather cruel."
"Oh, failure might have given you true humility."
"I make plenty of failures, thank you. Please don't let this be one of
them, and don't judge Jack's intensity of interest by my own. May I sit
down once more?" Page knotted his brow reminiscently. "Jack outlined a
plan for me. He suggested a number of arguments with which I was to
lead up to the main idea, but they are pretty well muddled in my brain
now." Gorham gave a short, desperate laugh. "After this confession of
weakness, Mrs. Van Tassel, you will be obliged, if only out of
generosity, to send me back with a 'yes.' Now, let me see; I'm
confident this ought not to come first, but Jack wanted me to say that
he was certain that Uncle Richard left the homestead to him instead of
to you, at your own instigation."
Clover, who had not been able to imagine what was coming, acquiesced
gravely. "Mr. Van Tassel would probably have acted as he did in any
case, but I wanted to make certain that Jack's dear old home should be
secured to him."
"It humiliates Jack to feel that you avoid the place for fear he might
go there."
"This is an unpleasant errand for you, Mr. Page."
"Please don't use that tone. Jack means so well, I couldn't refuse to
be the go-between. He asks, he even begs, that if you intend to remain
in Chicago now, you will go back to your home. It is comfortable. All
your belongings are there. His father made every arrangement for you.
Jack feels sure he would be grieved to have you leave it. He himself is
going back to Boston. The housekeeper is alone there and is pining for
you; I forget whether that was to be an argument, but the fact remains.
Jack thinks it would save a lot of talking among your friends if you
were to go on in the old way. Naturally, he has no use for such a big
place. It would be too lonely to endure under the circumstances, and it
is hardly the thing to leave the house tenantless year after year. Of
course all this is under Jack's supposition that you have no prejudice
against the home as a home. If that is false"--
"No. I have a strong attachment for the locality and the house itself.
Mildred has also."
"Then you will say yes; and I will promise to take my success as meekly
as you could desire."
"Shall I do it, Mr. Page?" asked Clover, looking perplexed.
"By all means, if you ask me. Here is the Fair coming on, and the
difficulties of suiting one's self in a home in Chicago are going to be
many, I fancy."
"I don't want to think of that. We should be able to find a comfortable
place."
"Then consider that suggestion unmade, and let me take your consent to
Jack. Do you still hesitate?"
"Yes. I had quite made up my mind to do without Jack, and this would
change all that."
"Jack does not at all wish to be dispensed with."
"I consider," said Clover with grave gentleness, "that I owe him any
favor he chooses to claim; but it seems quixotic on his part to call
this one."
"And yet he does. We cannot always understand the vagaries of youth,
Mrs. Van Tassel."
"Jack was always willful," she returned, smiling sadly. "Tell him I
thank him, Mr. Page, and that Mildred and I will talk it over."
An hour after Gorham's departure, a note was brought to Clover. It was
from Jack. He said:--
I thank you for considering my proposition. I have a feeling that in
the end you will not refuse me. I have suffered for every unjust word I
ever said to you, Clover, and now the only peace possible for me is to
be in friendly relations with those my father loved. Only when you are
living again under his roof shall I feel that I have won his forgiveness
as well as yours. The selfish jealousy of you which has made my heart
sore has gone, and gratitude has taken its place. We have both lived
long in two years, and suffered much. We can feel for each other.
Forgive your old comrade, JACK.
Clover's tears fell upon this abrupt note, and her heart went out to her
friend. She did not need now to talk the matter over with Mildred. She
had decided to return to the home by the lake.
Jack went back to Boston without seeing her again; for although he
called, the sisters were both away.
*CHAPTER XIII.*
*MAY DAY.*
What Chicagoan will ever forget the winter of '92 and '93! It was as
though the elements had joined with the majority who frowned down their
city's audacious effort. The newspapers recorded the storms and their
damage. What an unthinkable thing it was to undertake a World's Fair in
such a climate! Certainly if one wanted an allegory of discomfort one
had but to visit the Garden City at that season, and witness the teaming
through torn-up streets, the building, and the elevating of railroad
tracks, while the sense of shortness of time sent men to labor and often
to die in exposed places when the mercury was lost below the zero mark.
Roads were either iron-bound, or deep in the mud of a thaw, and
blizzards descended furiously upon the glass portions of Exposition
structures, destroying in an hour the work of weeks.
As the first of May approached, more stinging grew the criticisms upon
the authorities who had failed to have the Columbian Exposition entirely
ready to keep its engagement; but though on the great day Chicago was
still in an undeniably uncomfortable condition of unfinished hotels and
bad weather, the White City rose like a perfect superb lily from its
defiling mud, and the great crowd that swarmed into Jackson Park on the
morning of May 1st found so much to marvel at that they were
good-natured and eager under a chill gray sky, and unmindful of the
clinging soil into which they sank at every step.
Jack Van Tassel had arrived in town a couple of days before, and after
registering at his hotel had called immediately at his old home.
The girls received him cordially, although he was unexpected. One or
two letters had passed between Clover and himself during the winter, and
she now asked him to leave his hotel and take possession of his old
room. He declined with thanks, stating that his plans did not yet
permit of a prolonged stay in the West, and that it would not be worth
while to make the change.
"I am afraid he saw that I hesitated when I asked him," said Clover to
her sister after the guest had departed. "I wish we had known that he
was coming, then we could have thought the matter over and arrived at a
decision. I really didn't know whether I was doing a proper thing or
not."
Mildred, who had seen and been amused by her sister's perplexity all
through the call, laughed mischievously.
"It is an odd thing if you can't invite your son to visit you," she
said.
Clover regarded her helplessly, but she could not help smiling too. "I
don't know whether we should be outraging conventionality or not," she
repeated. "He will be coming back again in a little while. If only
Jeanie hadn't deserted us. It was such an inconvenient season for her to
be overwhelmed with homesickness, but she said it was the first time
that she had not been really needed here."
"You remind me of Iolanthe," said Mildred wickedly. "I couldn't help
thinking of it all the time Strephon was here." And then she sang:--
"'I wouldn't say a word that could be construed as injurious,
But to find a mother younger than her son is very curious,
And that's the sort of mother who is usually spurious;
Tara diddle, tara diddle, tol lol lay.'"
The color rose under Clover's clear skin as she joined reluctantly in
her sister's laugh. "Perhaps we had better procure a dragon," she
suggested.
"Oh, wait a little," returned Mildred, loath to alter their present mode
of life.
But Jack, before he left, had agreed to call for his friends on the
morning of May 1st to take them to see the opening exercises in the new
city whose completed splendor they had not before beheld.
The three walked down through the grounds in the dull gray weather, and
joined the half million of souls who waited in the Court of Honor to see
President Cleveland touch the electric button.
Clover gazed at the white magnificence of architecture, and felt a
thrill at the solemn stillness pervading all, which the fine orchestral
music only accented.
"It seems to me like the story of Galatea," she said to Jack. "We are
waiting to see the breath of life breathed into the statue."
Van Tassel looked down the Grand Basin to where the heroic Republic
stood veiled in white from the eyes of men. The low-hanging sky hung
its pall above all.
"I think the button may start the clouds as well as the machinery," he
remarked. "They look as though they were only waiting some signal to
pour down."
"We shall need a shower-bath to put out the fires of our enthusiasm,"
exclaimed Mildred, who looked as excited as she felt. "Oh, Jack, aren't
you glad you are a Chicagoan? Aren't you glad that we've gathered
goldenrod right in this very spot in front of the Administration
Building?"
Jack protested that he shared this subtle joy fully; and at the moment a
new shiver of expectation passed through the throng. The music had
ceased. The President had begun to speak. It was a solemn moment, a
triumphant moment, when at last the electric button was pressed,
hitherto motionless machinery suddenly throbbed, and the vast pulses of
the stately, statuesque White City began to beat.
Clover and Mildred unconsciously clasped hands, and their breath came
fast as they stood facing the majestic Peristyle, its marble columns
surmounted by the solemn, glad, immortal declaration: "Ye shall know the
truth, and the truth shall make you free."
Jack stood beside them, his head bared before this beginning of a new
era; for at the touching of the signal, down fell the veil from the
golden Republic, up streamed the enormous jets of water from the
fountains; color and movement thrilled along the roofs of the snowy
palaces; flags of all nations unfurled gayly from myriad staffs; the
boom of artillery thundered from the lake side; and as the multitude,
swayed by mighty feeling, rent the air with cheers, the sun burst from a
cloud and blessed the scene with new splendor. The World's Columbian
Exposition had opened.
Van Tassel accepted Clover's invitation to dinner that afternoon when
they reached home, chilled with much standing about in the spring wind.
The impersonal common interest of the day had done much toward
reestablishing the old easy relation among the trio.
"So Jeanie felt a call to visit her own kin, did she?" said Jack as they
sat at table. "She is so much a part of the house I miss her."
"Yes; she could not be tempted from her project even by the prospect of
the Fair. 'What do I want with the Fair?' she asked contemptuously.
'Chicago's just got unbearable since they started it.' But she wanted
me to promise to take her back when all the excitement is over and she
returns to America," said Clover. "Of course we miss her very much; but
at present we get on finely."
"Yes," remarked Mildred, "I don't know that Jeanie would be pleased to
know how well. I believe she was right. No doubt a person of her sort
would be more fatigued than interested by the Fair."
"I was wondering this morning," said Jack, "while we were waiting down
there, what Aunt Love would say to it all."
Clover smiled. "I think Chicago and everything connected with it seems
as far off to her as the Sandwich Islands;" but as she spoke a novel
thought came into her mind, and after Jack had gone she imparted it to
Mildred.
"I have had a brilliant idea," she announced.
"That is nothing new," returned her sister. "A quarter, please," holding
out her hand.
Clover loftily ignored both the compliment and the request for prompt
recompense.
"We can't selfishly keep this comfortable house just for our own two
selves the next six months."
"I could, just as easy," returned Mildred nonchalantly, dropping into an
armchair. "Aren't you glad now that we have lived a life of resorts for
two years, and are not under obligations to anybody? Moreover, that we
haven't had time to make any intimate friends anywhere? Why, everybody
we know here has either rented his house and fled, or is wondering how
servants and expenses are to be managed through the summer."
Clover looked serious. "I feel that we ought to do exactly what Mr. Van
Tassel would do if he were alive."
"Yes, that is so," agreed Mildred promptly; "but I don't see how you are
going to find that out."
"Why, it is perfectly plain that he would entertain his near relatives."
Mildred raised her eyebrows thoughtfully. She began to sing softly
again from Sullivan's opera:
"'To say she is his mother is an utter bit of folly,
Heigh-ho, our Strephon is a rogue!
Perhaps his brain is addled and it's very melancholy,
Taradiddle'"--
"Stop that nonsensical song."
"My dear, Gilbert never writes any nonsense. It gives me the utmost
pleasure to warble his lays. He is the only librettist in the world who
says just what he wants to say, and it happens to rhyme. Pardon me if I
appeared to be personal. That was another happening. So you think you
ought to have sonny at home. Anybody else?"
"Certainly. Mr. Page."
Mildred pursed her lips into a noiseless whistle.
"Mr. Van Tassel's sister's child," went on Clover firmly. "He has a
right to expect an invitation. What is the matter? Don't you like
him?"
Mildred made her favorite grimace of faint repugnance, and her head
dropped to one side. "I've had a good deal of him by proxy," she
answered. "I'm very much afraid he's a worthy young man."
"Well, what of it?"
"Oh, you know I can't endure worthy young men," smiled the girl
provokingly.
"Jack says he is a noble fellow," declared Clover with dignity.
"Of course; but alas, if that was only one of those things that go
without saying! His sister-in-law adores him madly. Well, then we are
to have sterling cousin Page. Anybody else? It seems to me you are
drawing about us a possibly charming, but certainly unconventional
family circle."
"No, no. There are the other Pages. Of course we must ask the married
brother, just as much as Gorham, and we are under obligation to Mrs.
Page for kindness to you."
"So she is to be the chaperone. Is it your expectation that she will
wish to stay here all summer? What a perfect goose you were, Clover,
not to have your bright idea before you let Jeanie go. After you have
thought up three meals a day for guests, for about three months, your
opinion of the brilliance of that idea will probably decline and fall."
"Just wait," said Clover triumphantly. "You haven't even heard my
bright thought yet. It is Aunt Love."
Mildred looked into her beaming eyes uncomprehendingly. "It is nothing
to me," continued Clover, "whether Mrs. Page stays one week or six. I
am going to ask Aunt Love to come and take Jeanie's place all summer."
"Do you suppose she will do it?"
"Yes, I do. I shall ask her, anyway, before one day more passes over my
head,--that is, if you agree, Mildred."
"Oh, if I agree!" repeated the latter with light scorn. "I notice you
didn't trouble yourself to consult me about Strephon and cousin Page."
"You would like to have Aunt Love, of course," persisted Clover.
"Yes; but she must be sure to bring Blitzen."
There was only one subject discussed throughout the length and breadth
of Pearfield, twenty-four hours after Mrs. Van Tassel's letter reached
Miss Berry.
Lovina Berry was going to the World's Fair. Pearfield would be
represented, after all. It was a dangerous undertaking. Everybody felt
that. The postmaster made himself quite unpopular by doubting whether
Loviny ran more risk from desperate characters in Chicago than she would
in any other large city; but his heretical opinion was accounted for by
a well known contrariness of nature.
Many and solemn were the leave-takings and warnings bestowed upon Miss
Berry at the outset of her pilgrimage. She was somewhat astonished
herself at her own calmness at the prospect.
"It must be I don't sense it," she declared as she gave her lisle-thread
glove a parting wave from the car window. She had planned by letter to
have Gorham Page meet her in Boston, and take her to an inexpensive
boarding-house where she might remain until she was fitted out for her
wonderful trip.
It was a tired and harassed woman that Page met that afternoon, hugging
to her, as she stepped from the car, a straining, excited, furry bundle
that jumped eagerly to the end of his chain as she permitted him to leap
down.
"Such a time as I've had this day," she ejaculated. "I guess I've broke
most o' the laws ever made by God and man. By good luck I knew the
conductor,--he came from near our place, and he, seein' that Blitzen
rampaged dreadful in the baggage-car, let me hold him in my lap. I lost
my temper before I'd been out o' Pearfield half an hour, and I haven't
found it since. I'm just tuckered out. Miss Bryant made a great point
o' my bringin' Blitzen, but law, before I'd have the care o' him from
here to Chicago I'd give up the whole undertakin'." Miss Berry looked
anxiously at the dog as he bobbed about at the end of his tether as
though to expend the energy stored in his lively legs during hours of
inaction. "I don't know how I could leave him in Boston," she added,
"and yet"--
Page smiled. "You know very well if you left him he would walk on the
ties to Chicago. Don't worry, Aunt Love, I'll send him safely for you.
You shall not have any trouble."
Miss Berry looked half hopeful, half incredulous.
"Yes, by express. It will be all right," and Page held open the door of
a cab, into which Miss Berry stepped with the nervous and astonished
Blitzen again caught in her strong clasp.
"I haven't thanked you a word," she said when the horse had started,
"but you can't think what a help it's been to me to have you manage
about the boardin' place and all."
"Hilda wouldn't hear to your going anywhere but straight to her,"
returned Gorham.
"Oh, that is too much," exclaimed Miss Lovina, flushing with pleasure;
and the warm welcome she received when she arrived at Mrs. Page's dainty
apartment completed her relief from care and embarrassment.
"I'm sure you never counted on Blitzen," Miss Berry said anxiously, in
return to her hostess's greeting.
"But I am glad to see him," responded Hilda. "It is well known that a
dog who can wag his tail can knock over lots of valuables in a flat, but
Blitzen is a safe and welcome guest."
"We'll let him run in the street all he wants to. Perhaps he'll get
lost," said Miss Lovina, regarding the small animal darkly in spite of
the confiding and questioning gaze he was bending upon her, as though
begging to understand to-day's erratic movements.
"Much more likely to be stolen," remarked Gorham. "I had better send
him on to Chicago very soon."
Mrs. Page proved of great assistance to Miss Berry in adding the right
articles of dress to her wardrobe, and completing her preparations. It
was with a light heart that Aunt Love finally shook hands with Page
after he had settled her comfortably in her section of the Chicago
train, and when the latter glided slowly and smoothly from the station,
Miss Berry leaned back in the cushioned seat and felt happy though
excited. She had never been in a sleeping-car before, and every
convenience about her excited her wonder and admiration.
She was traveling at Mrs. Van Tassel's expense, and simply followed the
explicit directions Page had given her; so she went into the dining-car
for her meals, a proceeding which filled her with wonder. Her practical
soul yearned to examine the compact kitchen arrangements.
Gorham had charged the porter to attend to her wants, accompanying the
exhortation with the only sort of persuasion which appeals to the
species, and innocent Aunt Love was in consequence gratefully impressed
by her new friend's assiduous attentions.
There is no denying that the gentleman of color had something to endure
from the time the train crossed the last state line and entered
Illinois. It had been impressed upon Miss Berry that she was to alight
at Hyde Park, and her porter earned the money Mr. Page had given him
before that station was reached.
"You don't want to get out till you've passed the World's Fair," he said
at last in desperation; and Miss Lovina clung to this definite clue with
such concentration that when the usual stentorian announcement was
made--"World's Fair Buildings on the right," she scarcely cast a glance
toward the labyrinth of roofs and domes, but clasped the handles of her
bag and shawl-strap, and sat on the extreme edge of the seat.
Soon the porter arrived, took possession of Miss Berry's belongings, and
in another minute she stood on the platform, where Mrs. Van Tassel and
Miss Bryant met her with open arms.
At least one of Mildred's hands was extended in welcome. The other kept
firm hold of a chain to which Blitzen was attached. Instantly the
little dog's leaps and grins monopolized the attention of all three. He
whined, he actually howled in the fullness of his joy at finding the
mistress he had despaired of seeing again.
"For gracious sake!" exclaimed Miss Berry, much embarrassed. "There,
there;" she stooped and patted the terrier sparingly. "Yes, here's my
trunk-check, Mrs. Van Tassel. My, but you do look well, child. For
pity's sake, Miss Mildred, take the chain off'n that dog, and maybe he
won't trip me up. Be still, can't you?"
Mildred laughed as she stooped and unfastened the hook from the smart
new collar which had gilded Blitzen's misery since his arrival. "Yes,
he will not need chains now," she answered; "but we have had to keep him
a prisoner for fear he might go back to Boston. It would have been such
a pity for you to cross each other on the way."
*CHAPTER XIV.*
*CLOVER'S INVITATION.*
Those who wished to continue to point out the defects in Chicago and her
Fair had ample opportunity through a large part of the month of May. It
was indeed Chicago's Fair then; no one else claimed it. The exhibits
were not all in place, the electric effects were not complete, the
weather was cold, Orientals had to wear American overcoats above their
white gowns, and they sneezed lugubriously under their turbans. The
pleasantest spots in the White City at that season were the open fires
in the dignified or dainty club-houses known as State buildings. Only
the Eskimos were really comfortable, and some of those poor women wished
the incoming and outgoing visitor would not allow the northeast wind
continuous entrance to their homes.
But the month was nearly out by the time Miss Berry arrived in Chicago.
It was the beginning of that marvelous summer whose weather every
Chicagoan will always proudly consider an exhibit worthy to be ranked
with any wonder it shone upon. The natural elements, like the human
ones, gradually admitted that the Columbian Exposition was not only a
worthy but an overwhelming success, and in place of buffeting wind and
destructive storm, sent week after week a warm blue sky and a cool east
breeze to add the crowning charm to the White City's bewildering
loveliness.
Had the human element been as prompt in succumbing, thousands of those
who strove in the madding crowd of October might have reveled instead in
the fresh beauty of June; but the general confidence had not yet been
gained. The same journal which had pictured the vulgar young city
vociferating for the World's Fair bouquet had not yet declared that it
took off its hat to Chicago, adding that all other shows bore the
relation to the Columbian Exposition which Jersey City did to Imperial
Rome. A comparatively small army of explorers came from the East as
yet, to spy out the land and carry back reassuring reports to their
skeptical or timid friends.
Miss Berry, in her comfortable, novel quarters, was from the first
charmed with her surroundings. The bright bracing air, the frequent
tally-ho coaches that passed the door, their scarlet-coated buglers
piping with cheerful unsteadiness, the expanse of tumbling blue-green
water that constantly gladdened her eyes, all seemed as festive as the
fine house which was her temporary home. She enjoyed the playing of the
orchestra every morning on the piazza of an adjacent hotel, and was soon
able to hum "After the Ball," that unavoidable, omnipresent
accompaniment of the World's Fair summer.
Only one thing puzzled her for the first few days after her arrival, and
this perplexity she set at rest one cool evening, by watching her
opportunity and walking clandestinely to the sands at the back of the
Chicago Beach Hotel. Here she stooped to the water's edge, dipped her
finger in an incoming wave and transferred it to her mouth. Tasting it
critically, she looked thoughtful, and after a moment repeated the
operation.
"I suppose I've got to believe it," she murmured, rising. "'T ain't
salt."
The more cultivated and traveled one was, the more wonderful and
beautiful the White City seemed to him. Upon a woman of Miss Berry's
narrow worldly experience, its unique characteristics dawned but slowly.
For some weeks it is quite certain that the housekeeping duties which
Clover at once placed in her hands were more attractive to the good
woman than the marvels which lay so near her. She was not insensible to
the privilege of being within walking distance of Jackson Park, and now
and then she made pilgrimages thither.
"It's somethin' like knowin' there's a big plum puddin' standin' near
by, and that whenever I want to, I can go and pull out a plum;" she
said; "but law! it would take a whole lifetime to see what they've got
down there, and every time I go I realize it more."
Clover carried out her hospitable intention as soon as Aunt Love was
fairly domesticated; and one morning a letter from her was handed to
Mrs. Page at her breakfast-table.
Her family had just been talking about the World's Fair, and Jack had
been answering questions concerning the best locality in which to secure
accommodations.
"There is nothing like having an ardent Chicagoan in the house to make
one attend to these matters in time," remarked Mrs. Page.
"I am very much afraid you will find you are not in time," returned Jack
discouragingly. His advice, given a couple of months before, had not
been heeded, and he now proceeded to state a series of facts and figures
which were rather appalling.
"You will have to do something about it, Jack," remarked Mrs. Page's
husband, who is not so designated on account of any inferiority. He was
a stout, sandy-haired individual with a good digestion and disposition,
who was accustomed to allow Hilda and Gorham to think for him in all
matters not related to the wholesale dry-goods business in which he was
engaged. "You say we ought to see the Exposition," he went on placidly,
"and it is your affair, in the interests of hospitality, to tell us
where in--Chicago we can find the proper quarters."
"I impressed upon you some time ago that you ought to attend to it,"
returned Jack rather stiffly. The air of lightness and condescension
with which his cousin always treated the subject of the Fair grated upon
him.
"Yes, he did, you know, Robert," declared Mrs. Page, always inclining,
like most of Jack's feminine friends, to side with him.
It was at this juncture that the arrival of the mail created a
diversion, and Hilda opened Clover's letter.
She glanced down its pages. "Why, how lovely! How kind!" she ejaculated
from time to time. "Listen to this. You are all interested. It is from
Mrs. Van Tassel."
MY DEAR MRS. PAGE,--I have been wishing for some days to find the right
moment in which to thank you for your kindness both to Aunt Love and me
in rendering her so much assistance in coming to us. She seems happy
and at home already. I am the more pleased to have secured her that it
makes it easy for me, in the absence of my old housekeeper, to entertain
guests during the coming eventful summer. I hope you and your husband
have not already committed yourselves to another plan for seeing the
Fair, for our house is most conveniently situated, and my sister and I
would be pleased to have you come to us. Will you extend my invitation
to your brother as well? As for Jack, it is not necessary, I am sure,
for me to write a separate invitation to him. His room is ready for
him, and I count upon his taking possession of it for as long a time as
he can make it convenient. Indeed, I wish you all four to choose your
own times and seasons for coming, for I have no plan to entertain any
one else, and I beg you to consider the house always open to you, and a
sincere welcome always ready.
Mildred wishes me to send you her love, and we both hope soon to receive
favorable word of your plans. Cordially yours,