Margaret Prescott Montague

“ Julie wavered. “It’s—it’s good.”
“A cookie?” He snatched it from her. “Well, if you ain’t the biggest little fool! Look a’ here!” he shouted. “Look what Julie Rose give me. A cookie! Haw! Haw! Haw!” He waved the gift for all to see, and his hoarse mirth ran down the line of children, in surprise, contemptuous laughter, and ejaculation. And only Julie’s shrinking and inadequate little body stood between her soul and the stabs of the other children’s derision. “Here—I don’t want anything from you!” Edward cried, and flung the cookie in her face. ”

“ Apparently, up there in the wide stretches of the deep sky that Julie had always liked, there lurked a terrifying Power that might pounce dreadfully at any moment. Evidently the safest way to get through life was to slip by as unnoticed as possible, clad, if one were a chicken, in speckled gray feathers that faded easily from sight in the grass; or; if one were a little girl, ordering one’s self in the same humble and unobtrusive manner. ”

“ Julie tried again that night to tell Tim what Miss Fogg meant to her. It was a mystery that she could not quite explain to herself. She was constantly drawn back to interpret it to him.
“It’s like she was my child,” she said. “I’m giving her life. She’s mine. Everybody’s forgotten her. Life’s forgot her, an’ gone on by; but now I’ve come along, an’ brought some of it back to her. It’s like all the sufferings of the world had got a-hold of my heart, an I had to go down into hell to drag folks out. It isn’t just that poor old soul. She stands for all the rest: all of ’em that’s suffering. ”

“ Julie said to herself, drawing a deep breath and aware of an enormous content and elation. Her feet moved over the ground with the flying swiftness that had borne her up the church aisle. She was conscious of a beautiful elasticity and freedom, as though a binding cord that had been twisted tighter and tighter to constriction had suddenly snapped, giving her relief and air and release into a beneficent world. ”

“ Anderson cat, and opened her mouth. Julie saw the jaws, she saw the teeth, she saw the red tongue curled back. In a moment everything else disappeared. In all the world there was nothing but herself that was a little naked bird, and that gaping mouth descending upon her. Closer and closer it came, the tongue curled back, the white teeth in rows. It closed upon her, and she shrieked, only she did not shriek in her own woman’s voice but rather in that last agony that the fledgling emitted when Blackie pounced. ”

“ Where shall we pick up the thread of Julie Rose’s life? It runs, a hidden strand, back and back into the past, crossed and recrossed by the threads of other lives,—all weaving a pattern of humanity on an unseen loom,—deflected sometimes by the pull of natures stronger than her own, widened here and narrowed there by circumstance, winding itself for the most part along the muddy streets of Hart’s Run, to the shops on errands for her mother, to the schoolhouse, and on Sundays to the Methodist church ”

“ The words were constrained and inadequate, spoken in obedience to her mother’s command; but as she stood there with the pink folds of the frock caught close to her and her pinched face flushed with happiness, she was a little point of color and joy that lighted up the discouraged room and made her mother’s eyes linger upon her fondly a moment, then turn for sympathetic understanding to Julie. ”

“ Julie planned to seek work also later on, but for the present he entreated her not to.
“No, take time just to be alive a while,” he begged. “Why, we’re almost as new as Adam an’ Eve; all I want you to do is just to help me name the animals.”
“Name the animals!” she laughed, as no human being had ever laughed before at his small whimsicalities.
They were both released into a gayety and laughter of life that heretofore had passed them by. Youth flowed back into Julie’s face, and with it her lost prettiness—or perhaps a fresh prettiness which even her youth had never known. ”

“ As Julie came forth from the Sunday-School room, breathless and trembling, she paused a moment upon the steps, and there the deep serenity of the night received her. She drew a long breath. Her heart still pounded violently, but she had escaped: she was delivered. Inside, Sister Humphries continued to pray, Brother Seabrook speeding the petition upon its way with ejaculations of “Lord, grant it!” “Amen! Amen!” Outside, the sweep of a starlighted sky covered the world. Julie lingered upon the steps, her tense nerves relaxing gradually, as the safety and reassurance outside wrapped her about. ”

“ Halfway down, all the seats on one side of the car were given over to a detachment of men in khaki. They laughed and joked uproariously and burst occasionally into war songs—“We won’t be back ’til it’s over, over there,” and “Keep the home fires burning.” Men in khaki were new and strange phenomena in Julie’s part of the world, and she looked at them curiously. But she was so weary that even they could not engage her interest for long, and closing her eyes, she let herself relax. She could feel the big warm body of the woman beside her heave up and down with each breath. ”

“ Julie awoke the next morning in the dim and early light and sat up in her berth. She had slept so profoundly, swept down to such depths of unconsciousness, that for a moment on awakening she appeared to have drifted beyond all the moorings of her accustomed self, so that it took her a few moments of uncertain staring at the swaying green curtains of the berth and at the flickering light across the bedclothes, to realize that she was on the train. ”

“ So Julie went back, the cookie, fragrant and comforting, in her hand, but a poignant disillusioned throb still in her heart, driven in so deep that it was beyond the relief of tears; and the two phrases her mother had used, “That’s all you can expect in this world,” and “What’ll folks think?” turned themselves over and over, burrowing down into her mind and intrenching [8] themselves there. She took a little tentative nibble of the cookie to comfort herself. It was good, very good.
Good? What did that remind Julie of? Oh, yes! Last Sunday’s Golden Text: “Overcome evil with good.” ”

“ A day in Red River spent in Henr’etta’s society left Julie limp, crushed by the other’s exuberant self-confidence, with all the delicate antennæ of her personality brushed aside, as a butterfly’s wing is brushed by a too rough touch. ”

“ Suddenly for Julie there seemed to be nothing in the house save those marching figures, and his white face watching them. She fixed her eyes upon them also and a twist of horror shot through her. “Look at those men,” she thought. “Look at all of them—those are all real men—they aren’t just pictures, they’re real. Every soldier there is—or was—a real person. Oh, my Lord!” she thought suddenly, “I wonder what they’re up against now.”
At last the war pictures flashed out and a play began. Mr. Bixby drew a deep breath and Julie [131] felt him relax. ”

“ A couple of traveling men, strangers to her, were walking up and down the platform in the fresh morning air, pulling at their cigars, evidently content and well-breakfasted by the hospitality of the Monroe House in the village. The station master was also there. He was Edward Black, the same bully who had torn Julie’s doll to pieces so long ago. He had grown into a stout and flabby man, with small eyes set in so large an expanse of face that one inevitably thought of his cheeks as jowls. ”

“ I never did see any person take things as hard as you do. I reckon it’s because you’re so thin. Just look at your arms!” Mrs. Anderson took one of Julie’s hands, and pushed the loose sleeve up above her elbow. “Looks about the size of a toothpick to me. If you were fleshier, things wouldn’t get to you so quick. Look at me, now,” she commanded, drawing up her frank proportions. “Things have to go through about six inches of grease ’fore they can reach me. But you—why you’re pretty near as naked to the world as that nasty little chimney-swallow. You can’t go through life like that. ”

“ Once or twice he said, “I was [150] kind of lonesome; maybe you’ll let me sit here a spell,” but later he came without even that preamble, simply saying, “Well, Miss Julie, here I am,” and dropping into the plush rocker as though it were his place that was waiting for him. At first his talk was only general news of the day, but as their intimacy deepened they began to unfold themselves to each other more and more. With all the rest of humanity they continually had to pretend, dressing themselves in a garment of life that was altogether too big for them. ”

“ Like children who make a tent out of a couple of chairs roofed by an old shawl and, creeping under it, find an enchanted world of their own, no matter what tragedies may be facing the grown-up people around them, so under the grim roof of a world’s war these two discovered a miraculous existence. ”

“ During the summer months, when he was in Hart’s Run, their reserved little house rocked with his Homeric laughter, accompanying great stories of “Tony Beaver” who lives up “Eel River,”—where all the impossible things of the West Virginia lumber camps happen,—who is blood brother to “Paul Bunyan” of the Northern woods and who owns a yoke of oxen so big it takes a crow a week to wing the distance between the horns of one of them. But just because of his recklessness and daring laughter, Julie adored her father. ”

“ Julie is paralyzed when that big bully snatches her doll, powerless to move or cry out; she can only stand and look, her eyes wide and stricken, her hands clutched together. Not so Henr’etta Wilkins, Julie’s deskmate. She flew at Edward Black, and slapped him full and stingingly upon the face with her competent hand. It was Henr’etta’s dramatic act which precipitated a general scuffle and free fight among the children. They fought back and forth through the snow [6] and over the tattered remnants of the paper doll. ”

“ She looked full at him as she passed, and in that instant of detached scrutiny she was conscious of a sudden stab of pity. For a moment she knew the man for what he was—a poor mean nature, destined always to inhabit the murky backwaters of life, incapable of ever striking out into the clear depths of any great emotion—a crippled bit of humanity never again to be afraid of or bullied by, only to be sorry for. ”

“ A little later, the doctor brought his car to a standstill before the Chapins’ dooryard. The log-house, small and weathered, looked peaceful enough on the outside, with the September sun flowing over it, a white chicken or two walking its grass, and little borders of late flowers running down to the gate; but inside human beings were at grips with death.
Old Doc’ Franklin, long and awkward and loose-jointed, a little tired-looking about the eyes, but still going, picked up his worn bag and swung himself out.
[289] “Come on, Julie,” he said, “here’s our job.” ”

“ But Tim, think of her being Miss Fogg’s niece! Oh, I hate that! Miss Fogg’s mine: she’s my child. I made her. Elizabeth’s never done one thing for the poor old woman; but I worked over her with all my heart. It’s true what Mrs. Watkins said about my blowing the breath of life into her. That’s what God did in the Bible for Adam. ”

“ At the sound children broke their play and began to run, and grown people also stepped off their porches and hastened toward the music. Julie and Tim ran [188] with the rest of the crowd, reaching the corner just as a detachment of marching men swung by in rippling khaki lines. The crackle of clapping hands from the small crowd which had assembled followed the strains of the band and the stamp of the men’s feet, and, as the flag came swaying past, the people cheered and cheered. Tim did not applaud. He stood very drawn and still, his eyes fixed upon the marching men ”

“ Bixby’s face, and letting go of Julie’s hand, his glance sought the ground in confusion. Then suddenly he raised his eyes and gazed straight at her. She saw his spirit, desperate and impotent, like a caged wild animal, looking out at her. The sight shook her once more with that familiar suffocating anger.
“Oh, well,” she retorted boldly, “what people say isn’t really anything. It’s what they are that matters. I’m not much of a hand for talking myself. Maybe the same cat got my tongue.—Excuse [79] me; I’ve got to go back and speak to Brother Seabrook a minute,” she added suddenly. ”

“ Sometimes Julie coaxed her with flattery, into tidying herself up. “That black dress certainly is a handsome piece of goods, and that gray one, too,” she said.
“Why, of course I got handsome clothes,” Miss Fogg retorted with a proud jerk of her head. “Why, who do you take me for? I don’t belong with all the common trash that lives in this house. I’ve sewed for all the best people in town. I ain’t used to common people; I’m used to quality. But these folks here—they’re as common as pig-tracks. ”

“ After their long years of repression, in this sudden release they were intoxicated with the rapture of existence. For Julie the days flowed by in ecstasy, from early morning when she arose and prepared his breakfast, on through all the happy day as she attended to her small home tasks, and so to the fall of evening which brought him home again—every moment was a golden joy keyed to a hidden rhythm. Other [175] people also became a delight to her. ”

“ And now to Julie, all that past that her mother and she had woven together was outraged by Elizabeth’s cigarette.
“I’ve got to stop her! She shan’t smoke here in my shop. What would mother say?” she thought breathlessly to herself, trying to control the tremor that ran through her hands, so that she might set even stitches in her work. “I’ve got to stop her! It’s my shop. She’s got no business to smoke here. ”