I must close now. We all send love, and hope you are getting along all right. Was glad to hear father was gaining so fast.
Your loving daughter
HANNAH JANE
The letter dropped from Mrs. Clayton"s fingers and lay unheeded on the floor. The woman covered her face with her hands and rocked her body back and forth.
"There, there, dearie," soothed the old man huskily; "mebbe Jehiel"s will be diff"rent. I shouldn"t wonder, now, if Jehiel would come. There, there! don"t take on so, Harriet! don"t! I jest know Jehiel"ll come."
A week later Mrs. Clayton found another letter in the rural delivery box. She clutched it nervously, peered at the writing with her dim old eyes, and hurried into the house for her gla.s.ses.
Yes, it was from Jehiel.
She drew a long breath. Her eager thumb was almost under the flap of the envelope when she hesitated, eyed the letter uncertainly, and thrust it into the pocket of her calico gown. All day it lay there, save at times--which, indeed, were of frequent occurrence--when she took it from its hiding-place, pressed it to her cheek, or gloried in every curve of the boldly written address.
At night, after the lamp was lighted, she said to her husband in tones so low he could scarcely hear:
"Thaddeus, I--I had a letter from Jehiel to-day."
"You did--and never told me? Why, Harriet, what--" He paused helplessly.
"I--I haven"t read it, Thaddeus," she stammered. "I couldn"t bear to, someway. I don"t know why, but I couldn"t. You read it!" She held out the letter with shaking hands.
He took it, giving her a sharp glance from anxious eyes. As he began to read aloud she checked him.
"No; ter yerself, Thaddeus--ter yerself! Then--tell me."
As he read she watched his face. The light died from her eyes and her chin quivered as she saw the stern lines deepen around his mouth. A minute more, and he had finished the letter and laid it down without a word.
"Thaddeus, ye don"t mean--he didn"t say--"
"Read it--I--I can"t," choked the old man.
She reached slowly for the sheet of paper and spread it on the table before her.
_Dear Mother_ [Jehiel had written]: Just a word to tell you we are all O. K. and doing finely. Your letter reminded me that it was about time I was writing home to the old folks. I don"t mean to let so many weeks go by without a letter from me, but somehow the time just gets away from me before I know it.
Minnie is well and deep in spring sewing and house-cleaning. I know--because dressmaker"s bills are beginning to come in, and every time I go home I find a carpet up in a new place!
Our boy Fred is eighteen to-morrow. You"d be proud of him, I know, if you could see him. Business is rushing. Glad to hear you"re all right and that father"s rheumatism is on the gain.
As ever, your affectionate and dutiful son, JEHIEL
Oh, by the way--about that visit East. I reckon we"ll have to call it off this year. Too bad; but can"t seem to see my way clear.
Bye-bye, J.
Harriet Clayton did not cry this time. She stared at the letter long minutes with wide-open, tearless eyes, then she slowly folded it and put it back in its envelope.
"Harriet, mebbe-" began the old man timidly.
"Don"t, Thaddeus--please don"t!" she interrupted. "I--I don"t want ter talk." And she rose unsteadily to her feet and moved toward the kitchen door.
For a time Mrs. Clayton went about her work in a silence quite unusual, while her husband watched her with troubled eyes. His heart grieved over the bowed head and drooping shoulders, and over the blurred eyes that were so often surrept.i.tiously wiped on a corner of the gingham ap.r.o.n.
But at the end of a week the little old woman accosted him with a face full of aggressive yet anxious determination.
"Thaddeus, I want ter speak ter you about somethin". I"ve been thinkin"
it all out, an" I"ve decided that I"ve got ter kill one of us off."
"Harriet!"
"Well, I have. A fun"ral is the only thing that will fetch Jehiel and--"
"Harriet, are ye gone crazy? Have ye gone clean mad?"
She looked at him appealingly.
"Now, Thaddeus, don"t try ter hender me, please. You see it"s the only way. A fun"ral is the--"
"A "fun"ral"--it"s murder!" he shuddered.
"Oh, not ter make believe, as I shall," she protested eagerly. "It"s--"
"Make believe!"
"Why, yes, of course. _You"ll_ have ter be the one ter do it, "cause I"m goin" ter be the dead one, an"--"
"Harriet!"
"There, there, _please_, Thaddeus! I"ve jest got ter see Jehiel and Hannah Jane "fore I die!"
"But--they--they"ll come if--"
"No, they won"t come. We"ve tried it over an" over again; you know we have. Hannah Jane herself said that if anythin" "serious" came up it would be diff"rent. Well, I"m goin" ter have somethin" "serious" come up!"
"But, Harriet--"
"Now, Thaddeus," begged the woman, almost crying, "you must help me, dear. I"ve thought it all out, an" it"s easy as can be. I shan"t tell any lies, of course. I cut my finger to-day, didn"t I?"
"Why--yes--I believe so," he acknowledged dazedly; "but what has that to do--"
"That"s the "accident," Thaddeus. You"re ter send two telegrams at once--one ter Jehiel, an" one ter Hannah Jane. The telegrams will say: "Accident to your mother. Funeral Sat.u.r.day afternoon. Come at once."
That"s jest ten words."
The old man gasped. He could not speak.
"Now, that"s all true, ain"t it?" she asked anxiously. "The "accident"
is this cut. The "fun"ral" is old Mis" Wentworth"s. I heard ter-day that they couldn"t have it until Sat.u.r.day, so that"ll give us plenty of time ter get the folks here. I needn"t say whose fun"ral it is that"s goin"