Pearl was grating horse-radish that afternoon, but the tears she shed were for the parted lovers. She wondered if they ever met in the moonlight and vowed to be true till the rocks melted in the sun, and all the seas ran dry. That"s what Egbert had said, and then a rift of cloud pa.s.sed athwart the moon"s face, and Edythe fainted dead away because it is bad luck to have a cloud go over the moon when people are busy plighting vows, and wasn"t it a good thing that Egbert was there to break her fall? Pearl could just see poor Nellie Slater standing dry-eyed and pale at the window wondering if Tom could get away from his lynx-eyed parents who dogged his every footstep, and Pearl"s tears flowed afresh.
But Nellie Slater was not standing dry-eyed and pale at the window.
"Did you ask Tom Motherwell?" Fred, her brother, asked, looking up from a list he held in his hand.
"I sent him a note," Nellie answered, turning around from the baking-board. "We couldn"t leave Tom out. Poor boy, he never has any fun, and I do feel sorry for him."
"His mother won"t let him come, anyway," Fred said smiling. "So don"t set your heart on seeing him, Nell."
"How discouraging you are Fred," Nellie replied laughing. "Now, I believe he will come. Tom would be a smart boy if he had a chance, I think. But just think what it must be like to live with two people like the Motherwells. You do not realise it, Fred, because you have had the superior advantages of living with clever people like your brother Peter and your sister Eleanor Mary; isn"t that so, Peter?"
Peter Slater, the youngest of the family, who had just come in, laid down the milk-pails before replying.
"We have done our best for them all, Nellie," he said modestly. "I hope they will repay us. But did I hear you say Tom Motherwell was coming?"
"You heard Nell say so," Fred answered, checking over the names. "Nell seems to like Tom pretty well."
"I do, indeed," Nellie a.s.sented, without turning around.
"You show good taste, Eleanor," Peter said as he washed his hands.
"Who is going to drive into town for Camilla?" Nellie asked that evening.
"I am," Fred answered promptly.
"No, you"re not, I am," Peter declared.
George looked up hastily.
"I am going to bring Miss Rose out," he said firmly.
Then they laughed.
"Father," Nellie said gravely, "just to save trouble among the boys, will you do it?"
"With the greatest of pleasure," her father said, smiling.
Under Pearl"s ready sympathy Tom began to feel the part of the stricken lover, and to become as eager to meet Nellie as Egbert had been to meet the beautiful Edythe. He moped around the field that afternoon and let Arthur do the heavy share of the work.
The next morning before Mrs. Motherwell appeared Pearl and Tom decided upon the plan of campaign. Pearl was to get his Sunday clothes taken to the bluff in the pasture field, sometime during the day. Then in the evening Tom would retire early, watch his chance, slip out the front door, make his toilet on the bluff, and then, oh bliss! away to Edythe.
Pearl had thought of having him make a rope of the sheets; but she remembered that this plan of escape was only used when people were leaving a place for good--such as a prison; but for coming back again, perhaps after all, it was better to use the front door. Egbert had used the sheets, though.
Fortune favoured Pearl"s plans that afternoon. A book agent called at the back door with the prospectus of a book ent.i.tled, "Woman"s Influence in the Home." While he was busy explaining to Mrs. Motherwell the great advantages of possessing a copy of this book, and she was equally busy explaining to him her views on bookselling as an occupation for an able-bodied man, Pearl secured Tom"s suit, ran down the front stairs, out the front door and away to the bluff.
Coming back to the house she had an uneasy feeling that she was doing something wrong. Then she remembered Edythe, dry-eyed and pale, and her fears vanished. Pearl had recited once at a Band of Hope meeting a poem of her own choosing--this was before the regulations excluding secular subjects became so rigid. Pearl"s recitation dealt with a captive knight who languished in a mouldy prison. He begged a temporary respite--his prayer was heard--a year was given him. He went back to his wife and child and lived the year in peace and happiness. The hour came to part, friends entreated--wife and child wept--the knight alone was calm.
He stepped through the cas.e.m.e.nt, a proud flush on his cheek, casting aside wife, child, friends. "What are wife and child to the word of a knight?" he said. "And behold the dawn has come!"
Pearl had lived the scene over and over; to her it stood for all that was brave and heroic. Coming up through the weeds that day, she was that man. Her step was proud, her head was thrown back, her brown eyes glowed and burned; there was strength and grace in every motion.
When Tom Motherwell furtively left his father"s house, and made his way to the little grove where his best clothes were secreted, his movements were followed by two anxious brown eyes that looked out of the little window in the rear of the house.
The men came in from the barn, and the night hush settled down upon the household. Mr. and Mrs. Motherwell went to their repose, little dreaming that their only son had entered society, and, worse still, was exposed to the baneful charms of the reckless young woman who was known to have a preference for baking powder and canned goods, and curled her hair with the curling tongs.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE PARTY AT SLATER"S
"I wonder how we are going to get all the people in to-night," Edith Slater said gravely as the family sat at supper. "I am afraid the walls will be bulged out to-morrow."
"The new chicken-house and the cellar will do for the overflow meetings," George remarked.
"I borrow the pantry if it comes to a crush, you and I, Camilla," Peter Slater said, helping himself to another piece of pie. Camilla had come out in the afternoon to help with the preparations.
"No, Camilla is my partner," Fred said severely. "Peter is growing up too fast, don"t you think so, mother? Since I lent him my razor to play with there"s no end to the airs he gives himself. I think he should go to bed at eight o"clock to-night, same as other nights."
Peter laughed scornfully, but Nellie interposed.
"You boys needn"t quarrel over Camilla for Jim Russell is coming, and when Camilla sees him, what chance do you suppose you"ll have?"
"And when Jim sees Camilla, what chance will you have, Nell?" George asked.
"Not one in a hundred; but I am prepared for the worst," Nellie answered, good-naturedly.
"That means she has asked Tom Motherwell," Peter explained.
Then Mrs. Slater told them to hurry along with their supper for the people would soon be coming.
It was Mrs. Slater who had planned the party. Mrs. Slater was the leading spirit in everything in the household that required dash and daring. Hers was the dominant voice, though nothing louder than a whisper had been heard from her for years. She laughed in a whisper, she cried in a whisper. Yet in some way her laugh was contagious, and her tears brought comfort to those with whom she wept.
When she proposed the party the girls foresaw difficulties. The house was small--there were so many to ask--it was a busy time.
Mrs. Slater stood firm.
"Ask everybody," she whispered. "n.o.body minds being crowded at a party.
I was at a party once where we had to go outside to turn around, the house was so small. I"ll never forget what a good time we had."
Mr. Slater was dressed and ready for anything long before the time had come for the guests to arrive. An hour before he had sat down resignedly and said, "Come, girls, do as you think best with the old man, scrub him, polish him, powder him, blacken his eyebrows, do not spare him, he"s yours," and the girls had laughingly accepted the privilege.
George, whose duty it was to attend to the lamps for the occasion, came in with a worried look, on his usually placid face.
"The aristocratic parlour-lamp is indisposed," he said. "It has balked, refuses to turn up, and smells dreadfully."
"Bring in the plebeians, George," Fred cried gaily, "and never mind the patrician--the forty-cent plebs never fail. I told Jim Russell to bring his lantern, and Peter can stand in a corner and light matches if we are short."
"It"s working now," Edith called from the parlour, "burning beautifully; mother drew her hand over it."