Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman

“ Adeline Weaver sat under the green trellis of the south door of the old Weaver mansion, and sewed her seam of fine linen. She did not like to sew, but her aunts, the Misses Jane and Eliza Weaver, with whom she lived, would have turned faint with horror had she suggested the possibility of ready-made garments. All the ladies of the Weaver family had always made their own underwear, and the custom had become, as a species of royal etiquette, not to be lightly ignored. ”

“ Again a soft puff of west wind roughed her yellow hair, and she caught plainly the sense of the conversation in the sitting-room. “I must not forget to remind Hannah to mix up the biscuits to rise to-night,” her Aunt Jane was saying. Adeline's lips curled scornfully, “As if Hannah could forget,” she fairly whispered.
She wished sometimes that the old servant-woman would forget something. It seemed to the girl often as if she were nothing but an incarnate memory of years of routine. ”

“ Adeline's aunts were sewing in the south room. Adeline could hear the soft murmur of their voices, but could seldom distinguish a word. The women of the Weaver family had naturally low and gentle voices with no harsh notes. There was a tradition that no women of the family ever screamed. If protest they had against pain or fear or injustice they kept it locked in their own breasts. This young Adeline was a true Weaver. ”

“ That evening for the first time Adeline weakened, and the two went out in the garden again. Now the roses were gone, but the scent of the box endured under a clear sky, through which the great lustre of the moon floated. They sat down in the summer-house again, and Elias laid his hand resolutely on the girl's.
“Now you must tell me,” said he. “I know a good deal already. You have shunned me because of the willow-ware. Why? What has a set of blue and white china's disappearance to do with you and me?” ”

“ There would be hot biscuits made with cream, cold ham cut in thick, pink slices, an omelet made with sweet herbs, a mould of quivering red jelly, pound cake, fruit cake, and tea, and dainty little pats of fresh butter. Once Adeline in sheer desperation had endeavored to make a change in the unvarying list of eatables. She had suggested cold tongue instead of ham, and a salad. But her aunts had regarded her with a gentle surprise and delicate chins set with obstinacy. “We have always had cold ham, and Dr. Akers prefers it,” her Aunt Eliza had replied. ”

“ Of course Adeline could not be allowed to walk in the garden with a young man, so late, without a chaperon. “Please get my white shawl, my dear,” she said, patiently to Adeline.
But Dr. Akers regarded her with more of romantic reminiscence than usual. He begged that she would remain. He had some matters pertaining to the church to discuss with her. Dr. Akers had a covert sympathy with his nephew. Then it was Miss Jane's turn. She rose and fluttered perceptibly like a bird for a second. Then she sat down again. It was manifest that she could not be in two places at once. ”

“ Punctuality was held as one of the cardinal virtues by her aunts. “None of the Weavers have ever been unpunctual,” Miss Jane was wont to say. Miss Eliza often remarked that she herself had always considered it unworthy of a gentlewoman to be unpunctual. Adeline resolved to fly in the face of this edict of the Weavers. She said to herself that she would be late for tea.
She folded her work, and quilted in the needle. She placed it neatly in her little work-basket. Revolt had not yet fully asserted itself within her. She had been taught that no gentlewoman was disorderly. ”

“ Miss Eliza immediately concurred with his half-expressed view. She had little doubt that some one had told the man of their willow-ware, that the man had also been told that there was no hope of his being able to purchase. “We often have the side door unlocked,” said Miss Eliza; “then if sister and I were in our rooms, and Adeline out — Hannah does not hear readily — it would be quite possible.” ”

“ Nobody knew what the disappearance and mysterious recovery of the willow-ware meant to the Misses Weaver.
They had probably not realized it in the least, but the monotony of their lives had told upon them as well as upon their niece. They had become wearily stagnated. Now all was changed. In spite of their natural grief, when Adeline had married Elias Farwell and gone away to live, they seemed to acquire an after-bloom in their old age. It was all due to the willow-ware. “It would be fairly cruel to tell them,” Elias often said to Adeline, when her conscience smote her, and he was right. ”

“ She sat there in her cool, lilac muslin gown, cut V-shaped at the long, slender throat, and fastened with an amethyst brooch, with her soft gold hair parted over her serene forehead, and she was the very image of peaceful young womanhood at a peaceful task, when inwardly her whole spirit surged in a fierce revolt. ”

“ The cobbler's daughter, who was the less self-conscious of the two, said, “Good-afternoon,” in a thin, sweet little voice. Adeline responded. Then she walked along with the girls. She was the shyest of all. When superiority is shy, it is with intensity. Now and then she glanced at her companions. Her cheeks were burning. She said something about the weather in a faltering voice, and nobody could have understood the response which the other girls made. Finally the cobbler's daughter recovered herself. She extended the sticky little paper bag, which she carried, towards Adeline. ”

“ She let soft lace fall over them, and did not play the piano any more. Adeline always played one particular piece for Dr. Akers which she disliked extremely. It was called “Dewfall.” There was a weakly, sentimental air with weary variations. Adeline suspected that Dr. Akers and her Aunt Eliza might have some romantic associations with the piece. Once, whirling around suddenly upon the piano stool, when she had finished, she had caught the coquettish simper upon her Aunt Eliza's face, and the clergyman's gentle, languishing glance at her. ”

“ Adeline shrank away from him a little. “But it is really very wet,” she said, “such a heavy dew.” In reality she dreaded what her aunts might think if she came in with her new muslin limp and draggled.
Elias had an inspiration. “You do not want to go into the house,” he said. “Why not sit for a while in that summer-house we just passed. There will be a roof over our heads and floor under our feet. Why?” He paused in amazement at the violent start which the girl beside him gave. Suddenly she remembered the willow-ware. ”

“ Even Dr. Akers wrote new sermons under this strange influence. He went home in those days from the Weaver mansion feeling an odd mental strengthening after a discussion about the willow-ware. Right or wrong, they had all gotten a jolt towards happiness out of their ruts of life, which had been wearing their very souls bare of youth and hope. ”

“ She shrugged her sloping shoulders contemptuously. “What is the use?” she thought. “I would just as soon have machine-worked handkerchiefs for the rest of my days. I would much rather than sit and sew as I do.” ”

“ The next Thursday evening the uncle and nephew came again to the Weaver mansion to tea. Adeline wore a pearl ring on her engagement finger. Her aunts and Dr. Akers approved of the match, and Elias's mother had written her a beautiful letter. And the table was set with the willow-ware. The Misses Weaver looked years younger. They seemed to have gotten renewed vitality. They talked quite loudly, quite rapidly.
“Only think,” said Miss Eliza, “Hannah opened the door, and there was the willow-ware.” ”

“ However, when they were in the parlor again, she listened to Elias, with her ears ready for the willow-ware. Presently it came. First Miss Eliza mentioned the mysterious disappearance of the household treasures, then Miss Jane. Dr. Akers listened. Then he responded at once with what seemed a solution of the problem. A man had been at his own home a few days before, and had tried by the most strenuous means to induce him to sell a valuable old clock and a table. He was a collector of antiques. Dr. Akers, with a charitable bias towards doubt, voiced his suspicion of this man. ”

“ In that was kept odd pieces and the cut glass, for which there was no room on the old Chippendale sideboard. Adeline reasoned that no one would have noticed that the willow-ware had disappeared unless she had purposely gone to the closet for it. ”