Ella Higginson

“ Mr. Sybert stood in the bedroom door and stared at his wife’s ample back. There was a look of surprise in his blue eyes. Mrs. Sybert stooped before the bureau, and opened the middle drawer, taking hold of both handles and watching it carefully as she drew it toward her. Sometimes it came out crookedly; and every one knows that a drawer that opens crookedly, will, in time, strain and rub the best bureau ever made. From a red pasteboard box that had the picture of a pretty actress on the cover, Mrs. Sybert took a linen handkerchief that had been ironed until it shone like satin. ”

“ You go to sleep at night in a Puget Sound village with the fronts of the stores painted green, blue and red, spasmodic patches of sidewalk here and there, dust ankle deep, and no street-lights—and you wake in the morning in a city! ”

“ When Sehome hill was burning at night, it was a magnificent spectacle; like hundreds of torches dipped into a very hell of fire and lifted to heaven by invisible hands—while in the East the noble, white dome of Mount Baker burst out of the darkness against the lurid sky. The old steamer Idaho came down from Seattle three times a week now. When she landed, Mrs. Mansfield and Mariella, and such customers as chanced to be in the store, hurried breathlessly back to the little sitting-room, which overlooked the bay, to count the passengers. ”

“ ESTHER’S “FOURTH”
It was the fourth day of July, and the fourth hour of the day. Long, beryl ribbons of color were streaming through the lovely Grand Ronde valley when the little girl awoke—so suddenly and so completely that it seemed as if she had not been asleep at all.
“Sister!” she cried in a thin, eager voice. “Ain’t it time to get up? It’s just struck four.”
“Not yet,” said the older girl drowsily. “There’s lots o’ time, Pet.” ”

“ Mrs. Vaiden went upstairs, and returned presently, followed by Lavinia. The girl looked pale; a white kerchief bound about her brow increased her pallor; her eyes were red. She sat down weakly in a splint-bottom chair and crossed her hands in her lap.
At sight of the girl’s suffering, Bart knew instantly that he had been doubting her without [165] realizing it, because his faith in her came back with such a strong rush of tenderness.
“Sick, Laviny?” he asked, in a tone that was a caress of itself—it was so very gentle a thing to come from so powerful a man. ”

“ Sybert spent the afternoon at the postoffice grocery store. It was a pleasant place to sit. There was always a cheerful fire in the rusty box-stove in the back room, and there were barrels and odds and ends of chairs scattered around, whereon men who had an hour to squander might sit and [73] talk over the latest scandal. Men, as it is well known, are above the petty gossip as to servants and best gowns which women enjoy; but, without scruple or conscience, they will talk away a woman’s character, even when they see her struggling to live down a misfortune or sin and begin a new life. ”

“ Esther stood as if petrified with her foot still on the step. She felt that they were all looking at her. What terrible things human eyes can be! A kind of terror took hold of her. She trembled. There seemed to be a great stillness about her.
“Can’t I go?” she said to one of the ladies. Her heart was beating so hard and so fast in her throat that her voice sounded far away to her. “My paw knows Mr. Mallory, the store-keeper. We live down by the river on the Nesley place. We’re poor, but my paw alwus pays his debts. ”

“ Zarelda was compelled to pass through the kitchen to reach the stairs.
“Well, ’Reldy,” said her mother, “you’re here at last, be you? Hurry up an’ wash yourself. Your supper’s in the oven, but I guess the fire’s about out. It does beat all how quick it goes out. Paw, I do wish you’d hump yourself an’ git some dry wood. It ’u’d try the soul of a saint to cook with that green stuff. Sap fairly oozes out of it!”
“I don’t want any supper, maw,” said Zarelda.
“You don’t want any supper! What ails you? ”

“ THE CUTTIN’-OUT OF BART WINN
“Lavin-ee!”
“Well?”
Mrs. Vaiden came to the foot of the stairs.
“You up there?” she said.
“Yes, maw. What you want?”
“Somebody’s comin’,” said Mrs. Vaiden, lowering her voice to a tone of important mystery.
“I guess not here,” said Lavinia, lightly. She sat down on the top step and smiled at her mother.
“Yes, it is here, too,” retorted Mrs. Vaiden, with some irritation. “If you couldn’t conterdict a body ’t wouldn’t be you! You’re just like your paw!” She paused, and then added: “It’s a man a-foot. He’s comin’ up the path slow, a-stoppin’ to look at the flowers.” ”

“ It was snowing, too. The bleak Christmas afternoon and the long Christmas night stretched before her. Her eyes rested upon the little fir-tree on a table in one corner, with its gilt balls and strings of popcorn and colored candles. She could not bear the sight of it. She got up stiffly.
“Well, kitten,” she said, trying to speak cheerfully, but with a pitiful break in her voice, “let’s go out an’ eat our Christmas dinner.”
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“ Some of the neighbors must be sick. In that case she would have left a note; and he lighted the kitchen candle, and searched for it. It was pinned to a cushion on the bureau in the bedroom. The house was cold, but he did not wait to kindle a fire. [74] He sat down by the bureau, and with fingers somewhat clumsier than usual, adjusted his spectacles over his high, thin nose. ”

“ My religion is—do what’s right, and don’t wink at them that does wrong. I’ve stuck to my religion, I reckon you can’t get anybody to stand up and put their finger on anything wrong I’ve done—nor any of my fambly, either.” Mrs. Wincoop put her hand on her chest and coughed mournfully. “Let them that’s sinned,” went on Mrs. Willis, lifting her pale, cold eyes and setting them full on her visitor, “make allowance fer sinners, say I. Mis’ Abernathy, or Mis’ Anybody Else, can pack all the clo’s and all the sweet things they’ve got a mind to over to Patience Appleby ”

“ When you wanted I sh’u’d marry you, my father shook his head, an’ says—‘Lucindy, I do’ know what to say. John’s be’n a mighty fast young fello’ to give a good girl to fer the askin’,’ but I says—‘Well, father, I reckon he wants to start in an’ live a right life now.’ An’ so I reckon that about Mis’ Nesley.”
“God A’mighty, mother!” exclaimed Mr. Sybert, violently. “That’s diff’rent. Them things ain’t counted the same in men. Most all men nowadays sow their wild oats an’ then settle down, an’ ain’t none the worse for it. It just helps ’em to appreciate good women, an’ to make good husbands.” ”

“ I’m offul sorry I ever egged her on to turnin’ Orville’s mother out o’ doors, but who’d ’a’ thought it ’u’d break her down so? She ain’t told a soul either. I reckoned she’d talk somethin’ offul about us, but she ain’t told a soul. She’s kep’ a stiff upper lip an’ told folks she al’ays expected to live alone when Orville got married. Emarine’s all worked up. [133] I believe the Lord hisself must ’a’ sent gran’ma Eliot here to talk like an angel unawares. I bet she’d go an’ ask Mis’ Parmer over here to dinner if she wa’n’t afraid I’d laff at her fer knucklin’-down. ”

“ Oh, I’ll bet on the Alaskas! I love tall men!”
“Do you?” said Diller. “I’m tall.”
[152]
They looked into each other’s eyes again and laughed. Then a voice spoke over their shoulders—a kind, patient voice. “Oh, Laviny,” it said; “I wouldn’t bet if I was you.”
Lavinia gave a little scream. Both turned instantly. The young man who had been watching them stood close to them. He wore working-clothes—a flannel shirt and cheap-faded trousers and coat. He had a good, strong, honest face, and there was a tenderness in the look he bent on the girl that struck Diller as being almost pathetic. ”

“ He leaped before them, and upon them, licking their hands and clothing; he cast himself prone upon their feet, like one praying. No human being ever entreated for his life so passionately, so pathetically, as that dog pleaded for his master’s. ”

“ A panorama of colors flamed over Bart’s face; his hands clenched till the nails cut into the flesh and the blood spurted; who has seen the look in the eyes of the lion that cowers and obeys under the terrible lash of the trainer will know the look that was in the man’s eyes while the lash of his own will conquered him; his broad chest swelled and sunk. At last he spoke, in a deep, shaking voice. “Billy,” he said, “you’re a liar—a liar! ”

“ I’ve know her fifteen year, and I don’t know any better behaving woman anywheres. She never talks about anybody”—her eyes went to Mrs. Willis’s rigid back—“and she never complains. She’s alone and poor, and all crippled up with the rheumatiz. She wants to join church and live a Christian life, and I, fer one, am in favor o’ us a-holding out our hand to her and helping her up.”
“Amen!” shrilled out the minister on one of his upper notes. There was a general rustle of commendation—whispers back and forth, noddings of heads, and many encouraging glances directed toward sister Wincoop. ”

“ A faint color came slowly, as if after careful consideration, to Mrs. Wincoop’s face.
“There wa’n’t no call fer you a-telling that,” she said, with a great calmness. “The whole town knows you wouldn’t fergive a sin, if your fergiving it ’u’d save the sinner hisself from being lost! The whole town knows what your religion is, Mis’ Willis. You set yourself up and call yourself perfeck, and wrap yourself up in yourself—”
[222]
“There come the men—sh!” said Mrs. Willis. Her face relaxed, but with evident reluctance. She began to knit industriously. ”

“ Wincoop’s night-shirt, and as she drew the thread through and fastened it with scrupulous care, she said, without looking up—“I don’t take much stock in confessings myself, Mis’ Willis. I don’t see just how confessings is good for the soul when they hurt so many innocent ones as well as the guilty ones. Ev’ry confessing affex somebody else; and so I say if you repent and want to atone you can do ’t without confessing and bringing disgrace on others. It’s nothing but curiosity that makes people holler out—‘Confess-up now! ”

“ Miss Presly was saying. “Turkey with oyster dressin’, an’ cranberries, an’ mince an’ pun’kin pie, an’ reel plum puddin’ with brandy poured over ’t an’ set afire, an’ wine dip, an’ nuts, an’ raisins, an’ wine itself to wind up on. Emarine’s a fine cook. She knows how to get up a dinner that makes your mouth water to think about. You goin’ to have a spread, Mis’ Parmer?” ”

“ You never will learn any gumption! Why don’t you look what you’re about? Now, go around Christmas with your finger all tied up!”
“Oh, that’ll be all right by to-morrow,” said Mrs. Eliot, cheerfully. “Won’t it, Emarine? Never cry over spilt milk, Mrs. Endey; it makes a body get wrinkles too fast. O’ course Orville’s mother’s comin’ to take dinner’ with you, Emarine.”
“Dear me!” exclaimed Emarine, in a sudden flutter. “I don’t see why them cranberries don’t [131] come! I told Orville to hurry ’em up. I’d best make the floatin’ island while I wait.” ”

“ One soul scarcely balances a consideration of that kind—especially when a minister has six children and a wife with a chronic disinclination to do anything but look pretty and read papers at clubs and things. ”

“ The canoes did not flash or glide now, but literally plowed and plunged through the water, which boiled and seethed behind them in white, bubbled foam that at times completely hid the bronze figures from sight. ”

“ She glowered at him under drawn brows. “An’ I won’t stand anybody else’s a-runnin’ of ’em down or a-walkin’ over ’em, either! There ain’t no call fer you to tell me not to run ’em down.” Her look grew blacker. “I reckon we’d best settle all about your mother before we go in there, Orville Parmer.”
“What about ’er?” His tone was miserable; his defiance was short-lived.
“Why, there’s no use ’n your goin’ in there unless you’re ready to promise that you’ll give Emarine the whip-hand over your mother. You best make up your mind.”
“It’s made up,” said the young fellow, desperately. ”

“ You ain’t goin’ a step. The whole town’s excited over a nice man like Mr. Nesley a-throwin’ hisself away on a no-account woman like her, an’ you sha’n’t be seen a-goin’ there an’ upholdin’ her.”
Mrs. Sybert looked long and steadily into her [72] husband’s eyes. It was her policy to fight until she began to lose ground, and then to quietly turn her forces to maneuvering. “I reckon,” she was now reflecting; “it’s about time to begin maneuv’rin’.”
“Well, father,” she said, mildly; “I’ve made up my mind to go an’ see Mis’ Nesley an’ encourage her same’s I w’u’d any man that wanted to live better. ”

“ Have you hear of anybody——”
“No,” said Emarine. “Did Orville stop by an’ tell you to hurry up?”
“Yes. What’s the matter of him? Is he sick?”
“Not as I know of. Why?”
“He looks so. Oh, I wonder if it’s one o’ the Peterson childern where the undertaker’s a-goin’! They’ve all got the quinsy sore throat.”
“How does he look? I don’t see ’s he looks so turrable.”
[127]
“Why, Emarine Parmer! Ev’rybody in town says he looks so! I only hope they don’t know what ails him!”
“What does ail him?” cried out Emarine, fiercely. “What are you hintin’ at?” ”

“ Parmer?” she said, with an admirable attempt—but an attempt only—at indifference.
“Yes, it’s me,” said the young fellow, with an embarrassed laugh. With a clumsy shuffle he took step with her. Both faces were flaming. Emarine could not lift her eyes from their contemplation of the dead leaves in her path—yet she passed a whole company of “spring beauties” playing hide-and-seek around a stump, without seeing them. Her pulses seemed full of little hammers, beating away mercilessly. Her fingers fumbled nervously with the fringes on her shawl.
“Don’t choo want I sh’u’d pack your umberell fer yuh?” ”