Katharine Haviland-Taylor

“ The fat priest reached for Cecilia's hand. He lifted it and kissed it. Cecilia looked surprised.
"A token of immense respect and humble love, dear child," said Father McGowan. "Kisses," he continued, "Cecilia, tie to the man who humbly kisses your hand. There are two kinds, the kind who wants only your lips and the kind who humbly touches your hand and who longs to be absolved by whimpering out his shames against your throat. Lord, what an old fool I am! What a subject for a priest to lecture on!"
Cecilia was silent, for she was thinking of Stuyvesant's kisses, which still burned her palm. ”

“ French heels, Father McGowan, dear!"
"Cecilia Madden, dear," said Father McGowan. His look was inscrutable. He laid a hand on her hair. His touch was very gentle. "Most of all," he said, "remember never to be ashamed of your people, and always to love them. Love those who love you. Reason the truth out in your heart, and don't accept the standards of little Miss Millionairess, because she is that. Understand?"
"Yes," replied Cecilia, "I understand, but Father McGowan, I would always love paw. Wearing shoes and collars in the house is just the trimmings," she stated bravely. ”

“ At least John thought so, the pleasantest, he thought, for ages, but just now he was suffering from a profound shock. K. Stuyvesant had said something that had left John mentally holding on to his solar plexus.
"You say it's an evidence of youth to get drunk?" said John.
"Uh huh," answered K. Stuyvesant in an indifferent tone. "Surest sign in the world that a fellow's about nineteen. You know how it is, a chap wants to get old, be thought old, so he imitates what he thinks is manhood. Like a kid, picking out gilt instead of gold, he picks out a drunk, and thinks it's a man. ”

“ Jeremiah's eyes were like a child's—the eyes of a frightened child. "Sometimes," he said in a whisper, "I'm afraid he's ashamed of me!"
"No!" exploded Father McGowan, "No!"
There is nothing like the scorn of the undetected guilty for those who are exposed. Cecilia was treated to fine scorn, supercilious looks, and, worst of all, a chill overlooking; for she had allowed a boy whom she'd never met to buy her a soda water and a pink sundae! ”

“ I can't, Cecilia——"
"Don't!" answered Cecilia. "You are! I know you better than any one. You have been my best friend always, and I say you are!"
Marjory's fingers plucked at the coverlet restlessly. She breathed in quick gasps. Cecilia laid her hand on Marjory's. "Perhaps to-morrow you'll feel differently?" she suggested. "You know dark makes things so much darker. I'll do anything to make you happier. I'll ask Mr. Twombly to come out and play with you often, Marjory dear." ”

“ The painting smiled down gently.
"Pink roses," it seemed to say. "There are always pink roses, but youth must hold them to see their beauty.... Seeing no loveliness in dreams denied, no heights in greatest depths...."
"Come in!" said John. "Please!" K. Stuyvesant hesitated. He wanted to, for just a glimpse of Cecilia was everything to him; but, she—she had not wanted to see him. "I am out a great deal," she said in that memorable 'phone message,—also, "I have quite forgotten the little episode of the boat." ”

“ Cecilia was aware of Stuyvesant's eyes. They were so dear! She wondered if it was very wicked to love them, for she knew she always would.... And he had intimated that if Jeremiah were less prominent—Cecilia swallowed hard. The gods are visited with temptations, and too often they come to little humans. Cecilia was meeting hers. For the minute she felt anything possible, justifiable for the end she craved, and in the middle of her minute the white spark in her little heart flared.
"Papa," she said, "please tell Mr. Twombly about the time you hit the boss on the ear with a brick." ”

“ They laughed, and Cecilia flushed.
"Are you an upholder of the green velvet 'throw' on the parlour organ, Miss Madden?" asked a young woman, noted for her bizarre dress.
"I am when the green velvet is the only possible beauty for them,—the only reachable one. I think it's so narrow," she went on heatedly, "to make them enjoy themselves just in our way,—to inflict our likes and dislikes because it's possible to do so. I want to give these girls what they consider a good time, and what they want. Patterns for good times differ. I want dances instead of classes in art. They need them." ”

“ As yet nothing had taken the place of blue glass butter dishes for small Cecilia. She still preferred rhinestone hair-pins, and French-heeled shoes to their plainer sisters. Beauty had been taken away and none substituted, at least none that she enjoyed. The only thing she really cared for was the dragging of her newly acquired French in her talk. She did this often with the proud feeling that it was what her mother had wished.
Jeremiah had said, on meeting Marjory, "Pleased to meet yuh, mam," and Cecilia had broken in with, "I love papa so much, Marjory, you must too." ”

“ This day Cecilia walked alone as usual. Mrs. De Pui was an advocate of trust as a developer of "womanly instinct," so on a stipulated number of streets, the girls were allowed to walk unchaperoned. They went in little groups, all except Cecilia. She was her own small group.
To-day she walked alone, at least it seemed so, but by her Cecilia felt K. Stuyvesant Twombly. "I admire art," he was saying. His voice, curiously enough, was Mrs. De Pui's.
"So do I," agreed Cecilia. "Beauty develops us, the best of us, and brings a shining light into the soul." Cecilia stopped. ”

“ I wish we were back in that little flat, with John laying bricks as my father did. Perhaps then he would be a good man. That is everything to me."
"He is going to be a good man, Cecilia," said Stuyvesant. Neither noticed the use of her first name. "He will be a good man. This is a relapse,—a recurrence of growing pains. There are good things in him. When he's awake he has a sense of humour. That is a darn good thing to have, you know. I think, next to God, it's the best thing a man can own." ”

“ Cecilia nodded absently. She had learned to "yes" and "no" at the proper times with Mrs. Aliston, quite without a listening attention. Strangely, she was thinking of some one else beside her father, John or Father McGowan. This some one who had been the leading man of her dreams for a great many years. In fact, ever since she had rescued a sick and dying tabby.
She had carried his true voice with her wherever she went.... Often when things called men had asked for her hand because it held money, a genuine voice had echoed through the years. ”

“ It's only when you reach for things too high above you that your arms begin to ache,—then papa and John, all the time misunderstanding each other. Both of them being hurt by this money,—and I—I love him so!"
"Cecilia," said Father McGowan, "this world is full of hurts. You have to take them as you do the weather, without a question. Some one put them here to polish our little souls.... After you are fifty you will accept them with thankfulness and cease questioning. The faith of childhood will return in a bigger way, with a belief in the absolutely unknown. ”

“ De Pui said was very terrible. Cecilia crawled off at last, white and shaking. She groped for her door knob. Things before her were not very clear. What Mrs. De Pui had said was very terrible, but,—but the other, her first lie, uttered with that brazen assurance.... She went in and threw herself across the bed.... She didn't cry. The hurt was too big. So her dear father and the fact that she was born in poverty made her an outcast? If so, she would stay so. "Learn her to be a lady," the breeze that came in through an inch opened window whispered. Cecilia felt it, and set her chin. ”

“ One of them said, "Some one's cook."
"Every one has trouble with cooks," thought Cecilia. Then she looked down and forgot cooks. Her shoes were so beautiful! Pointed toes and high of heels. And her suit now, all over braid and buttons, with a touch of red here and there!
Even those giggling girls must have been impressed. Their clothes had been so plain. Cecilia pitied them. She decided to give them a "tasty" hair-ribbon now and then.... The waiting was so long. She wished Mrs. De Pui would come. She thought of paw and Johnny and her eyes filled with hot tears. ”

“ To Stuyvesant, who stared resolutely on them, they all whispered, "Cecilia!"
To Cecilia they shouted "Keefer, the butler."
To John they were lovelier that night from a new hope, and, of his father, a new understanding.
But to Jeremiah Madden they brought back only the heat of an overcrowded flat—the woman who held his heart dying by inches, when money might have made her live.... Money! ... A little tired-eyed girl struggling under a woman's load. A little boy who always cried for things he couldn't have.
"The bunnit with pink roses." ”

“ The doctor began to criticise the administration, as people always do when they know little of the facts. Stuyvesant clutched the straw, and argued hotly first on one side, and then the other. The doctor was pleased, for K. Stuyvesant was illustrating a pet theory of his, universal insanity. "Now if Van Dorn could hear this!" he reflected. "Why, the man could be locked up! He's much worse than millions in asylums!"
The car jolted, and turned. Cecilia swayed, and bumped against Stuyvesant's arm. ”

“ You and John, you people of stronger, fresher blood, are America. You are what comes in and puts bright eyes into depleted stock and takes out the hiccoughs. Don't apologise for your strength and the fact that papa's reservations for his first trip were made in the steerage."
"I don't," answered Cecilia. "I'm rather blatantly proud of it, although since boarding school I haven't bragged of it."
"In time you may even elevate your lorgnette and ask coldly, 'Who is she?'" suggested Father McGowan. ”

“ Hadn't believed her.... "One more try, Cecilia, although you are a great trial both to me and my pupils," echoed through her brain in Mrs. De Pui's cold tones. Cecilia sat upright on the bed. "My heart's right," she said aloud. "I believe it's better than Annette's. Don't that count for nothing? Ain't being kind being a lady?" She stared sullenly across the room. The white furniture glittered coldly. From between the flutter of scrim curtains she saw a painfully well arranged park. Even the trees were smugly superior.
"Gawd was in that flat," she said, and again aloud. ”

“ It made Cecilia feel as if she were in the warmth of a summer sun, just to hear them. So happily natural, they were.
"Horrid people!" said Miss Hutchinson loudly. She elevated a lorgnette, and looked "poppa" up and down critically. "Beer, Cincinnati," she decided in far-reaching tone. Cecilia squirmed.
"That dear baby in the steerage!" said Cecilia, to divert the offended Miss Hutchinson.
"Dirty!" commented the diverted. "So absolutely degrading the way the lower classes have children! One after the other!" ended Miss Hutchinson. ”

“ Didn't you love the whole world more because of mamma? It only makes me want to be much nicer, and want to hug the earth!"
She covered her face as she finished, with slender, little hands. Jeremiah sat down by her.
"I want my bonnet with pink roses on it!" she whispered, "I do want it!" He put his arms around her because he couldn't answer. A gull with silver wings swooped low. Cecilia uncovered her face, and kissed the brick king. "Which is my very prettiest dress?" she asked. ”

“ I'm grateful."
"He said he was glad I wanted him to, that he'd do anything for a certain girl. He has the dearest eyes, when he looks at you—oh, you know how——"
"Yes," answered Cecilia, "I know." There was a pause while the only sound heard was the brush on Cecilia's hair—the soft snap and swish.
"Cecilia," said Marjory, "were you engaged to Tommy Dixon?"
"Yes," answered Cecilia, "but, Marjory, I can't bear to remember it. It—it was while I was much younger and hurt because of something Annette Twombly had said. I thought I'd have to marry some one like that to help papa. ”

“ Cecilia, used to many men of many compliments, coloured. She squeezed his hand, and then shyly drew hers away.
Mrs. Higgenmeyer came waddling down the deck. She saw Cecilia and smiled widely. "Well, dearie!" she said in her usual carrying tone, "Lotty was looking fer yuh. She and poppa are playing rum now. She wants you should see a wireless she had from her gentleman friend."
"I'd love to!" answered Cecilia. Momma passed by. K. Stuyvesant and Cecilia laughed gently.
"I like to love and laugh," said Cecilia; "but if you leave the love out, the laughter is too liable to turn sour." ”

“ K. Stuyvesant removed his hands. He also smiled. John was nettled. His great dignity was hurt.
"Why didn't you tell him who you were?" he asked of Stuyvesant with heat.
"Oh, Lord!" said Stuyvesant. "Why should I? The fact that I draw a little more on pay day than the next fellow doesn't give me the divine right to paw all over the works." John was silent. He was again mentally steadying his solar plexus. ”

“ Hers was the spirit that puts glory into the face of the tired mother in the overcrowded flat; beauty into the face of the tawdry little girl who sits on a park bench with her "gentleman friend"; youth into age, waiting for soft and endless night ”

“ There were ribbons looped carelessly on its gorgeousness too.
"Little Celie," said Father McGowan, "I want to tell you things and I can't. Now if you had a mother! Sometimes women do come in handy."
Cecilia nodded.
"I want to tell you," said Father McGowan, looking hard at the brick, "not to be hurt if at first the girls are stand-offish like. That's their way."
"Oh, no," said Cecilia. "I won't be, but I think they'll be nice. Mrs. De Pui says they're all of the best families with wonderful home advantages." ”

“ I would if it weren't for papa, and John,—and my hair. (I couldn't bear to have it cut.) And he shows so plainly that he likes her, and then she tells me what he says,—oh, dear!"
"Darn fool!" said Father McGowan. "Is he crazy?" He glared at Cecilia with his question, and she laughed unsteadily.
"I'm ashamed to bother you," she said, "but it helps, and I can't tell papa. I think papa'd kill him. He's done nothing wrong, you know. You can't help what your heart does." She avoided the fat priest's eyes and looked down at her ringless left hand. ”

“ At the top of it a daisy was engraved. "I give her that paper," said Jeremiah proudly. "She was tickled. She sez as how none of the girls in school had nothing like it."
"I believe it," replied Father McGowan. There were heavy lines in his face. Cecilia's heart-ache lay on his shoulders, he felt, for he had made the "Brick King."
"Darling Papa:" read Father McGowan, "I was so happy to hear from you. I read your letters over and over. I love you very much. I am learning that that is the biggest thing in the world, loving people, and having them love you. ”

“ In truth she did not consider it smartness, for to her it was the natural attitude of young men. However she was clever enough to see the way this big, silent man felt about it, and to agree outwardly.
"I'd do anything to help one girl," he said loudly. He wanted Marjory to know how he felt about Cecilia. Perhaps she'd help him. They reached the broad steps.
"After dinner I want to see you," whispered Marjory. "In the garden,—alone. Something about Cecilia. By the white wall?"
"Not there," he answered quickly, "but by the Italian dial, if you like."
In the hall he met a fat priest. ”

“ He still gave the brick his undivided attention. "And," he went on, "if you should get lonely, remember that there's one Lady you can always tell your troubles to. She won't laugh, and she always listens."
"Oh, yes!" said Cecilia, and she crossed herself.
Father McGowan drew a long breath. "Now," he said, "remember that if your clothes are different from theirs that your father has plenty of money to buy new ones for you. Remember that. A penance is all right, but not at fourteen."
"Why, my clothes are beautiful!" said Cecilia. ”