{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_58410/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_58410","id":"gutenberg_58410","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/58410","summary":null,"tags":["Bildungsromans","Category: American Literature","Category: Children & Young Adult Reading","Category: Historical Novels","Chicago (Ill.) -- History -- Juvenile fiction","First loves -- Juvenile fiction","Marriage -- Juvenile fiction","Religion -- Juvenile fiction"],"text":"Produced by Melissa McDaniel and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was\nproduced from images generously made available by The\nInternet Archive)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTranscriber's Note:\n\n  Inconsistent hyphenation and spelling in the original document have\n  been preserved. Examples include \"vandue\" and \"vendue\", \"Cahoky\" and\n  \"Cahooky\", \"infare and \"infair\", and \"Pettingil and Pettengill.\"\n\n  Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.\n\n  Italic text is denoted by _underscores_.\n\n  On page 126, \"Champaign squibs\" should possibly be \"Campaign squibs.\"\n\n  On page 225, the sentence '\"You weigh about seventy-five pounds,\"\n  gravely.' seems to be missing some text.\n\n\n\n\nA Little Girl in Old Chicago\n\n\n\n\n     THE \"LITTLE GIRL\" SERIES\n\n\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW YORK.\n     HANNAH ANN; A SEQUEL.\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD BOSTON.\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD PHILADELPHIA.\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD WASHINGTON.\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD NEW ORLEANS.\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD DETROIT.\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD ST. LOUIS.\n     A LITTLE GIRL IN OLD CHICAGO.\n\n\n\n\n     A LITTLE GIRL\n     IN OLD CHICAGO\n\n     BY\n     AMANDA M. DOUGLAS\n\n     [Illustration]\n\n     NEW YORK\n     DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY\n     1904\n\n\n\n\n     Copyright, 1904,\n     By DODD, MEAD & COMPANY\n     Published September, 1904\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n     CHAPTER.                                PAGE.\n\n         I THE LITTLE GIRL                      1\n\n        II GETTING DINNER                      15\n\n       III THROUGH THE WINTER                  30\n\n        IV A POLITICAL DIFFERENCE              44\n\n         V OF COMMON DAILY THINGS              61\n\n        VI THEN THE UNCOMMON                   85\n\n       VII FROM THE LITTLE GIRL'S SIDE        100\n\n      VIII WITHOUT NORMAN                     117\n\n        IX WAS EVER LETTER HALF SO DEAR?      130\n\n         X A WILD RIDE                        147\n\n        XI A TIME FOR LOVE                    165\n\n       XII NOT MERRY, BUT WEDDING BELLS       179\n\n      XIII A SHADED SIDE                      194\n\n       XIV A TURN IN THE LANE                 209\n\n        XV HOW MUCH WAS LOVE                  224\n\n       XVI HER RIVALS                         243\n\n      XVII POLLY                              262\n\n     XVIII DAN                                276\n\n       XIX HOW NORMAN CAME HOME               294\n\n        XX THE PASSING OF OLD CHICAGO         312\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I\n\nTHE LITTLE GIRL\n\n\nIt is one of the compensations of Providence that after the storm and\nstress of active life is through, one can go back to the beautiful world\nof memory and live over the earlier joys with a delight not experienced\nin youth.\n\nSo the time I first saw the Little Girl is one of the pictures that\nline the halls of remembrance, softened, and it may be rendered more\nbeautiful, by the intervening years, and love.\n\nIt was a late September evening, at least the day had waned. All the\nwest still held the peculiar rich glow of a magnificent sunset that had\nmelted now into one great sheet of softened tints, with no one distinct\ncolor predominating, and changing every instant. Over the great lake\nit dropped iridescent hues, and even the river, with its muddy banks,\nshimmered in a glorified light. And I, Norman Hayne, sat idly outside\nthe log end of the house, that was our real living place, though the\nframe addition had been added, for we had long ago outgrown the other.\nThere was a rude porch over the door, where the Michigan rose rioted in\nthe early summer, and morning-glories later on. Beyond this was a bench\nwith a pail, one or two basins and a dishpan piled with dishes, where my\nmother would presently stand, washing up. Various utensils hung from the\nedge of a narrow shelf, a gourd dipper and one of cocoanut. Out beyond,\non the garden fence, was the churn dasher and the churn on a low pole.\n\nEarly August had been hot and dry, then had fallen copious rains and\neverything had taken a new lease of life. I was looking idly over to\nthe eastward, wondering what the \"States\" were like, though it would\nseem from the influx of emigrants and their tales that they held every\nvariety of climate and productions known to the world.\n\nI watched a great covered wagon lumbering along, drawn by two not over\nlarge but stocky horses. In a vague fashion I said to myself\u2014\"Some one\nfrom the States.\" It had not the air of a near-by native.\n\nThe driver jumped down with a loud \"whoa,\" and the animals, nothing\nloth, stood still. We were back perhaps fifty feet from the road, though\nit had a name as a street.\n\nMother came out just as the man walked up the path. She was rather\nstout, somewhat weather-beaten with our fierce winds, but fresh and\nwholesome looking, with a kindly smile, that had not been banished\nby the scoldings she had found necessary to use. Her hair was a soft\ndun-colored brown, her eyes brown also, with a sort of twinkle in them\nthat sometimes flashed in the heat of anger.\n\nThe man gave his faded wool hat a tug. He was of medium height, much\nseamed and wrinkled by exposure, with shrewd blue eyes, rather reddish\nhair and a sparse ragged beard, the sort of man who would hardly attract\na second look.\n\n\"Ma'am,\" he began, in a respectful tone, \"can you tell me just how I\nshall find the Towner place, and can I reach it to-night?\"\n\n\"Well\u2014\" mother looked over westward\u2014\"I can't say I should advise you to\nattempt it. It's crost the river. An' ther' ain't much but a tumble-down\nlog hut. Be you the man goin' to live ther'? Towner traded off the place\nan' was in high feather 'bout his bargain.\"\n\nThe man looked rather crestfallen. \"I was in hopes I could. But then\nit's good to be so near,\" with a sigh of content in the voice. \"There's\nsome taverns about, I suppose, though, for that matter, we could take\nanother night in the wagon.\"\n\n\"What fambly is ther'?\" and mother peered out rather curiously.\n\n\"Only me and my little gal. There's such big stories told about Chicago.\"\n\n\"An' they're comin' out the little end of the horn,\" said mother with\na short laugh. \"You can hardly give lots away.\"\n\nThe man stood rather uncertain.\n\n\"See here,\" began mother, who was hospitality itself, \"we can put you\nup for the night. S'pose you unhitch and take a bite of supper. It's\ntough goin' to a strange place in the dark, an' a tavern ain't jest the\nplace for a little gal. Norme, you great lazy lout, stir your stumps,\nand show the way to the barn. Bring your little gal in here, Mister. I\ndeclare for it, a gal is quite a treat. I've five boys an' I'm countin'\non the time they get married so's I can see a petticoat around.\"\n\n\"Do I come up here?\"\n\n\"Yes.\" I was off with a bound and began to turn the tired beasts up the\nroadway. Just at the stoop I paused.\n\n\"I'm mighty obliged to you,\" he began, bowing to mother. \"'Tisn't\neverybody you find willing to take in a stranger. But I'm going to stay\nif I can squeeze out any sort of a living. Times are hard everywhere.\nSeems as though the bottom's fallen out of everything.\"\n\n\"When the bottom falls out 'er Chicago we fill it in agen,\" returned\nmother with a heartsome laugh. \"You've come to a queer place, stranger.\nFirst, we're way out top of the chimbly wavin' defiance to everybody and\nbraggin' like all possessed, then down we come kerflunk! But we rub our\nbruises and knock off the soot an' go at it agen.\"\n\n\"That's the way you have to do,\" was the almost cheerful response. Then\nhe went to the side of the wagon and chirped, and lifted out the Little\nGirl and put her down. I looked intently at her and she was impressed\nupon my brain.\n\nA little girl of seven or eight in a faded blue cotton frock that came\ntwo or three inches from her ankles, and her dainty feet were encased\nin a pair of beaded moccasins. Her light hair, more flaxen than golden,\nhung about in short loose curls. Her skin was very fair, her mouth like\nan opening rosebud. But her eyes transfixed one even in the growing\ndarkness. They seemed bathed in dewy sunshine and were of the depth\nof sapphire, or the blue of a winter night. The brows and lashes were\nmuch darker than the hair, the eyes large and clear, but after she had\nonce glanced up fearlessly they drooped and seemed to shine through the\nlashes.\n\n\"You are just a little dear,\" said mother, and she stooped to kiss her,\nthough she was not at all given to caresses. \"And now while they go\nout to look after the horses I'll fix some supper. I've just cleared it\naway. My, but it's dark as a pocket in here. I'll light a candle. Have\nyou had a long journey?\"\n\n\"Oh, days and days! Sometimes we stayed at houses and sometimes in the\nwagon. There were wolves one night and father shot two, and we stayed\none night in an Indian wigwam. The squaws were kind, but the babies were\nso funny, tied to a board and standing round. I didn't like the food\nthough. I can cook some.\"\n\n\"Haven't you any mother?\"\n\nThe child sighed. \"Mother died a long, long while ago. Why do they have\nto be put in the ground? I should think they'd be carried up on some\nhigh mountain, where it would be easier for the angels to get them.\"\n\n\"And who took care of you?\"\n\n\"Aunt Getty did. Then she married Silas Bowers and he had seven\nchildren. I didn't like them though. Then Gran came out of the\npoorhouse, and after that some of the things were sold, only what we\ncould pack in the wagon. It was very nice at first. We stopped by the\nwoods and made fires and broiled fish and birds that father shot. You\nmake a little stone fireplace so\u2014\" and she described the outline with\nher hands. \"And when the wood gets all burned to coals you can broil,\nor you can fry in a skillet.\"\n\n\"You're a smart little thing,\" declared mother in amazement. \"Why you're\nnot much bigger than a minute.\"\n\n\"Why a minute is sixty seconds, and what do you suppose the seconds are?\"\n\n\"I'm sure I don't know,\" and mother laughed.\n\nIt looked cheery enough when I came in. It should have been painted as\nan \"Interior in Old Chicago.\" The room was large with a great fireplace\nat one end, the logs had been chinked in with plaster and then plastered\nover again, quite roughly to be sure. Every spring and fall mother\nwhitewashed it. Now it was rather smoky. Dan and I had put up a kind of\ndresser on one side, shelves braced up by side brackets and a curtain\nhung over them. Our chairs had tough reed grass bottoms, braided in a\nfashion learned from the Indians. There were several gun racks, and some\ntrophies of hunting. On one side was a roomy settle that did duty as\na bed, with dried grass pillows and cured skins, some quite valuable.\nMother had two candles lighted on the table, and they shed a sort of\nweird light around. She was warming up some chicken potpie, and there\nwas a great plate of brown bread and white, and another of gingerbread\nand an appetizing sauce of wild grapes.\n\nMr. Gaynor had stopped at the bench and washed face and hands with a\ngreat flourish of enjoyment. Now he sniffed at the savory fragrance with\nthe eagerness of a hungry man.\n\n\"Jest draw up,\" said mother, nodding to a chair. But she placed one for\nthe Little Girl and would have lifted her in it, only she slipped by\nwith the litheness of a fairy.\n\n\"What is your name, Sissy?\"\n\n\"Ruth\u2014Ruth Gaynor,\" was the gentle reply.\n\n\"And I am John Gaynor from old Massachusetts. I've wondered along the\nroute what evil spirit enticed me to leave the State where I was born,\nbut somehow luck turned against me, and the farm was a bed of rocks, as\none may say\u2014worn-out land. There's to be a great wheat-growing country\nout here, folks say, and bread is one of the things that doesn't seem\nto go out of fashion. Jerusalem! but there's a sight of folks growing\nup all the time. When the world gets full I s'pose it'll have to come\nto an end, for if it is full of folks, stands to reason there won't be\nno room for wheat growing.\"\n\n\"Laws a' massy, I never thought of that,\" said mother. \"But ther's wars\nand plagues an' what not. Sissy, you ain't eating no supper.\"\n\n\"I'm eating slow, tastes so good,\" returned Ruth gravely, looking up\nwith shining eyes.\n\nThere was a sudden rush and howl and she started in terror, turning pale.\n\n\"It's them dratted boys,\" explained mother, going to the door. \"Boys\u2014\"\none or two of them had a resounding cuff\u2014\"you air worse'n a pack of\nwolves! Now jes' wash up in some sort o' quiet or you'll get your\nfather's horsewhip. An' then go straight to bed. Go round 'tother way.\"\n\n\"Who's here?\" both in a breath.\n\n\"That's nothin' to you. Do as I tell you.\"\n\n\"There air three of the noisiest boys in all Chicago. Dan, he's quiet\nand grouty like when things don't go to suit, but he's smart. This here\nboy's slow an' easy like, an' not given to tantrums, an' I guess we'll\nhave to make a 'pason' out of him. Then there's Homer an' Ben 'n Chris,\nan' they'd tear the house down if they got at the underpinnin'. Norman\nhere should have been a gal! My! but I was disappointed when he come.\nI'd jes' set my heart on a gal. Then I got kinder hardened and didn't\ncare. Boys!\"\n\nShe went out again and presently there was a giggling and a scuffling\noff. There was an outside covered stairs leading to the attic over this\nend of the house and the boys slept there.\n\nI had been watching the Little Girl. I had no word for it then, but\nI knew afterward it was daintiness that enveloped her. She sat up so\nstraight and ate so quietly, even in drinking her glass of milk she made\nno noise. Then she looked up at mother and smiled.\n\n\"It was such a good supper,\" she said, and her eyes shone with dewy\nsoftness. Then she turned a little and glanced at me, and I felt my\ncheek burn from some unwonted cause. Not but what girls had looked at\nme before, and I had romped with them.\n\n\"I'm wonderfully obliged, ma'am,\" and Mr. Gaynor rose from the table.\n\"The beasts, too, are thankful no doubt. Hoping presently you'll be\nbetter paid, though I take it that kindness isn't ever made quite\nstraight with money, and I'm glad enough to be so near my journey's end.\nWhat sort of a place is Towner's?\"\n\nMother looked at me. \"You can tell best, Norme,\" she said with a nod.\n\n\"It's just a little 'tother side of the river. The log house isn't much.\nThere's quite a garden spot, then it runs out on the prairie, and up\nthe lake. He cut some of it up in blocks and sold, but I heard pop say\nhe had to take it back.\"\n\n\"Is it the town proper?\"\n\n\"'Twould be hard to tell what's town and what isn't,\" said mother,\n\"though they're talkin' 'bout organizin' something, an' it's high\ntime there was some sort of head to things. They've been surveying and\nsurveying and laying out streets that cut up gardens and farms. Some\npeople think it'll be a great place, an' others say it can't be anything\nbut a mud hole. You see, the river rises in a freshet, and the wind\ndrives the lake in. It's a mighty good place for ducks. They can sit on\nthe stoop of Tremont tavern and shoot them.\"\n\nJohn Gaynor laughed heartily at that.\n\nMother meanwhile had been putting away the food and gathering up dishes.\nNow she said:\n\n\"Light the lantern, Norman, it's grown so dark. Then bring out the\ntowels. You see,\" with a light laugh, \"I have to train my boys to do\nsome gal's work. I don't see when they have to eat why they shouldn't\nhelp clear it away. They'll make all the better husbands.\"\n\n\"Would you mind if I came out and smoked my pipe?\"\n\n\"Oh, dear no,\" returned mother cheerfully.\n\nThe lantern shed a light down on the bench, I brought out the teakettle\nand filled the pan, and she began to wash and put the dishes in another\npan to drain. Mr. Gaynor seated himself on the round of a tree at a\nlittle distance. There was a slight touch on my elbow.\n\n\"Couldn't I help dry them?\" inquired a soft voice. \"If you would find\nme a towel\u2014\"\n\n\"Oh, you dear little housemaid!\" cried mother admiringly. \"But you ought\nto play lady to-night.\"\n\n\"I used to do it for Gran. And there's so many here. Isn't it fun to\nhave a good many dishes! Oh, please do!\" in a coaxing tone.\n\n\"Get her a fresh towel,\" said mother, amused. So Ruth Gaynor and I dried\nthe dishes the first time we saw each other, and with that began a great\nfriendship.\n\n\"You'll do for a housekeeper,\" commented mother. \"What a sweet little\nthing you are! Why I think I shall have to buy you of your father.\"\n\n\"Oh, he couldn't spare me, could you, father?\"\n\nShe ran and slipped on his knee and put her arms about his neck.\n\n\"No, little one,\" he made answer.\n\nI sat on the end of the bench looking at them, and envying him. I\nwondered how the soft arms would feel about my neck, the rose-leaf cheek\npressed against mine. I was past fifteen and not over fond of browsing\nabout and noisy games, though I was well grown and strong. I liked to\nread and dream, and I was fond of hearing the men talk when they did not\nswear too much, or call each other fools too often. I did enjoy their\naspirations about Chicago and the boundless west. Chicago was even then\nan entrep\u00f4t for St. Louis, and also the Mississippi, from upper Michigan\nwith its endless stack of furs to Canada, and from thence to Europe.\nWhen all these great reaches were waving cornfields and wheat fields,\nand there should be a port extensive enough to accommodate them all, a\ngate through which the treasures of the earth and rain and sun should\npass, and the gold and silver of the world return!\n\nWell, it was a splendid dream to be laughed at then. But had not\nvoyagers a hundred years before had dreams akin to it?\n\nThe Little Girl had fallen fast asleep when her father carried her in.\nIt was very foolish, but I wished I could have kissed the soft, slightly\nparted smiling lips as mother had.\n\nMother lighted them into the new part, where there was a small sleeping\nchamber off the best room which, no doubt, would have been called a\nparlor if Dan and I had been girls.\n\n\"What a sweet little thing!\" mother said with a sigh. \"Too nice to come\nto a wild town like this.\"\n\nDan and father were down to the Tremont playing cards and talking\npolitics. Andrew Jackson was still President, a man who had warm\npartisans and bitter enemies. Then, too, Chicago was beginning to feel\nthe birth throes of a city.\n\nWe were up early the next morning. Dan was employed in one of the\ntrading companies, father at the mill, and they were off by six in\nsummer. It was true that I partly did a girl's work helping mother,\nbeing deft and light-handed for a boy. I ran out to the stable to see\nif I had dreamed this wonderful event of the night before. No, there\nwere the horses, who greeted me with a cheerful whinny, and there was\nthe wagon with its patched cover.\n\nRuth Gaynor was as sweet and charming in the morning as she had been\nat night. Soon after breakfast they prepared to leave. My mother would\naccept nothing for her hospitality except a promise that Ruth should\ncome over and visit us. The three younger ones stared at her with boyish\nbashfulness, and she did not seem to be inclined to make friends with\nthem. I was selfishly glad of it.\n\nI was to pilot them over. Everything has changed so now that it is\ndifficult to find an old landmark. There had been great changes even\nin my remembrance. Gurdon Hubbard had moved his business to Chicago\nand erected a brick building on the corner of South Water and LaSalle\nstreets, the first in the town. Then he had built a warehouse on Kinzie\nStreet and was doing a flourishing commission and forwarding business\nwith vessels plying between Buffalo and the upper lakes, the Eagle\nline. Back of this a little was the space a block square that Towner\nhad traded for the Massachusetts farm near a thriving city. Then, still\nfarther away, was the tract of prairie.\n\nThe house we found in a poor condition. But as if Mr. Gaynor's luck was\nto begin at once, some parties wished to buy half of this plot and a\nbargain was struck. That would leave him the house and a garden. There\nwas such a little money that trade and barter was often resorted to,\nand through a third party he could have lumber enough to build two new\nrooms on the house and repair the other. There was a tolerable barn and\nstable.\n\nWe cleared up the best room. It was astonishing to see the useful\narticles and bedding that were stored in the great wagon. We found some\nsecond-hand furniture, and by night they were fairly comfortable. It\nwas still pleasant, but we built a roaring fire in the old fireplace to\ndrive away the dampness.\n\nWhat a day it was to me! How fascinating the Little Girl was in every\nmovement, in her shrewd sayings, her wisdom that seemed much too old\nfor her years, yet she was such a frank, eager child.\n\n\"Must you go home?\" she asked pleadingly. \"Your mother has other boys.\nCan't some of them help her?\"\n\n\"I suppose they could be trained to. They have always kept together and\nare so full of play.\"\n\n\"And do you work all the time?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, I have been to school. But I am old enough to go to work\nregularly and mean to soon.\" I felt as if I would like to be a man at\nonce, though I could give no reason for it.\n\n\"I hate to have you go.\" She caught hold of my hand and swung herself\ngently to and fro. \"I like you very much.\"\n\nShe glanced up out of such clear, shining eyes that she seemed to fill\nmy whole being with their light. My mother had a right to me\u2014had any\none ever really wanted me before?\n\n\"Will you come to-morrow? There is so much work to do,\" sighing with a\nfascinating air.\n\n\"I will come to-morrow,\" I was glad to promise.\n\n\"Let me walk down to the end of the street, and then I will turn and\nrun back, and instead of saying good-by say 'to-morrow, to-morrow,' and\njust watch for the sunrise.\"\n\nShe kept my hand until we reached the corner, then like a fleet little\nfawn skimmed over the ground, never once glancing back, and I had known\nher only twenty-four hours.\n\n\"I hope you were well paid for your day's work,\" said my mother\nlaughingly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II\n\nGETTING DINNER\n\n\n\"The man certainly was a fool,\" said my father that evening as he sat\nsmoking his pipe. He had taken part in a political quarrel the evening\nbefore, and so did not go down to the Tremont to play cards, but read\nthe _Democrat_ and made promiscuous comments as he went along.\n\n\"What man?\" asked mother.\n\n\"Why that Gaynor! The idea of selling out a good home in a prosperous\nState and coming out here! If I could get out of this mud hole to-morrow\nI just would.\"\n\n\"Oh, no you wouldn't. You have said many a time that Chicago would lead\nall the Western cities when she was fairly on the march.\"\n\n\"Well\u2014he will never see any of his money or values back again!\"\n\n\"He disposed of half his plot to Farlie this morning,\" I interposed.\n\n\"What!\" The tone was sharp enough to take one's head off.\n\nI repeated my assertion.\n\n\"And swapped for another mud hole?\"\n\n\"No, he wanted lumber and various materials. The rest is in notes.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, well Farlie'll shave him. Yankees think they are very smart\nand shrewd, but he will find!\" and father nodded vindictively.\n\n\"I think that an excellent thing. They want a comfortable home and they\nmust have some one to help out that child. She ought to go to school.\nShe's too little to keep house. I must go over and see her.\"\n\n\"Oh, do,\" I entreated. \"It's hard to have her there alone.\"\n\n\"Yes, men as a general thing haven't much sense about rearing gals.\"\n\n\"Norman,\" began my father rather abruptly, \"you go over to Hubbard's.\nI heard he wanted some help\u2014a boy good at figuring. When I was twelve\nyears old I turned out to work. You've had a pretty good chance at\nschooling.\"\n\nMy heart beat with a quick throb. Why, if I could get a situation there\nI could see the Little Girl every day!\n\n\"I'll go the first thing,\" I replied cheerfully.\n\n\"And you needn't stick out about wages. Boys nowadays think they are\nworth a heap of gold, but they're not. Be content to begin down to the\nbottom of the line, and thankful that you have the chance.\"\n\nI was amused. I think I was a rather meek boy and not given to exalting\nmyself.\n\nThe three younger ones went to school, and then it was from eight to\nfive, seven months of the year, from nine until four through the winter\nmonths. It might have been hard on the teachers, but no one complained.\n\nThe next morning when I started out my mother said, \"Go and see if that\nlittle Gaynor girl is well, and how they managed last night.\"\n\nI went to the warehouse first. It looked big and business-y in those\ndays. Vessels were lading, men were running to and fro, a few negroes\namong them. Even at this early period there were protests against\nslavery in all the Northern States, and the Missouri Compromise was\nsupposed to have settled it. There were hardly a hundred negroes\nin the town at that time, and some were tall, strong fellows. A few\nIndians were loitering about, though most had been sent out on the new\nreservations. They were still considered rather treacherous, though no\nlonger to be feared.\n\nI picked my way among the piles of goods to the sort of counting room.\nFortunately I saw a familiar face, Mr. Abner Harris, who had been one\nof our neighbors, and had now gone over on the north side.\n\n\"Well,\" he began, looking me over from top to toe, \"what can I do\nfor you? We're short handed this morning, and if you could take a\nturn\u2014something of a scholar, ain't you?\"\n\nI told him my errand and that my father had sent me.\n\nHe nodded in a kind of cheerful way, \"Yes, we want an office boy who\nisn't afraid of work and doesn't take a nap oftener than every three\nhours. Can you do lettering? These things should have started yesterday.\nWhile we have the promise that the world will be burned up, and not\ndrowned out we can't always count on the wind nor this deceitful lake,\nwhich can smile at you and then drive you heaven only knows where! My\nopinion is that when the old Greek gods were dispersed Neptune took up\nhis residence at the bottom of this lake and enjoys the rumpus he kicks\nup.\"\n\n\"Neptune?\" I was not much acquainted with the Greeks in those days.\n\n\"There, don't stand talking all day.\" I had only uttered one word. \"Take\nthat bit of board and copy this, and let's see whether it will be in\nLatin or High Dutch. This little brush, and here's the paint.\"\n\nI copied out the address consigned to a Buffalo firm.\n\n\"That's fair. You needn't stop to flourish. Now go on with these boxes\nand bales, seven of them.\"\n\nIt came a little awkward at first, but I saw that I was making a decided\nimprovement. Mr. Harris nodded. Then there was something else. But\nbefore noon the boat started off, and as I watched her I half wished\nI was aboard of her. I had not been a dozen miles out of Chicago in my\nfifteen years.\n\nThen I thought of the Little Girl.\n\n\"You seem to be a likely fellow, Hayne, and you are not continually\nasking why the sun rises in the East. That stands for any foolish boy\nquestion. I half engaged a young fellow yesterday, Sim Chase; his father\nis deacon in the church, but he hasn't put in any appearance yet. I\nshouldn't like to go back on his father. Tell you what I'll do. You come\nin Sat'day and I'll know then.\"\n\n\"I should like very much to have the place,\" I ventured; standing on\none foot, boy fashion.\n\nHe gave a funny twinkle with one eye and said, \"Oh, I guess it'll be\nall right.\"\n\nI went off with a light heart. It was not far to the Gaynors'. A load of\nlumber had come and two men were laying a foundation driving piles. Mr.\nGaynor was giving orders here and there. Few things escaped his sharp\neye. But he only said to me with a curt sort of nod, \"Go round there\nand see if you can't help Ruth.\"\n\nI was only too glad. She was trying to make the fire burn, and the smoke\nhad filled her eyes with tears. The wood was rather damp and dozy. I\nlooked around for some dry brush; we were not a well-wooded country,\nand presently I had a cheerful blaze.\n\n\"What are you going to have for dinner?\" I asked. \"Or have you had it?\"\n\n\"No; father brought in some potatoes and some fish. I can't bear to\ntouch raw fish,\" and she shuddered.\n\n\"Have you any sort of a kettle?\"\n\n\"Only this,\" and she exhumed a long-handled stewing pipkin, that the\nfolks farther south called piggins.\n\n\"That will do for potatoes if we can find a cover.\"\n\n\"And this frying pan.\"\n\n\"For the fish. We'll have a fine dinner.\"\n\n\"I'm so glad you came. I wonder what I ought to call you?\" with a kind\nof delicate perplexity in her face.\n\n\"Why! Norman if you like. Mother and pop shorten it into Norme.\"\n\n\"Did you come from\u2014England\u2014Normandy?\"\n\n\"No,\" I laughed. \"Pop, I believe, came from York State, and mother's\nfolks from down farther south. You know Chicago isn't a very old place.\"\n\n\"I'd like to hear about it. It seems very queer. And you know we have\nPlymouth Rock. There were English Governors too, and it is more than\ntwo hundred years old.\"\n\nThere was a certain pride in her as she stood there in her faded gown,\nher tangled curls about her small face, her eyes shining with strength\nthrough their lucent light. I could have knelt and kissed her hand.\n\n\"And they had to cook dinners two hundred years ago. I suppose they\nbrought over pots and pans in the Mayflower, and salt and pepper. I\ncouldn't find any salt this morning,\" she laughed merrily, \"and I've\ncome in a wagon from Massachusetts. I am an emigrant, am I not? But I\nalmost wish I had not come.\"\n\nHer voice sank to a pathetic cadence that pierced my heart.\n\n\"Oh, no, don't wish that!\" I cried earnestly. \"And there are some\ncurious stories about Chicago\u2014sad ones, too. We will go to old Fort\nDearborn. And for a good many years one man lived here all alone, and\nLaSalle and Joliet and travellers went to and fro and left romances in\ntheir steps. We will hunt them up some day. But I must clean the fish.\nOh, what nice plump fellows!\"\n\n\"How good you are. I shall like to see those places. I like stories.\"\nHer face was aglow with interest. The potatoes were boiling splendidly.\nI poked in some rough pieces of wood to make another bed of coals, then\nI addressed myself to the fish and soon had them in frying order. But\ncertainly I must have some salted pork.\n\nI ran down the street a short distance and begged some from a neighbor.\nThen I drew out the coals and we soon had a savory fragrance.\n\n\"Oh, how delicious!\" Her eyes fairly shone with pleasure.\n\nMr. Gaynor came in, his face piquantly wrinkled with expectation.\n\n\"I shall have to hire you for cook, my lad,\" he exclaimed in a joyous\ntone. \"I'm hungry as a bear in March.\"\n\n\"Why March particularly?\" I asked.\n\n\"When he wakes out of his winter's nap.\"\n\n\"And he doesn't need any table,\" said the Little Girl glancing about in\na lugubrious fashion, with the corners of her mouth quivering.\n\n\"I'll fix that. You two deserve a table for such a feast.\"\n\nHe brought in a board and laid it on two boxes; but he decided that we\nmust sit on the floor.\n\n\"And we have sat under a tree on the grass many a time, haven't we,\nfather?\"\n\nThere was such a sound of joyous comfort in her tone it warmed one's\nheart.\n\nWhat a feast it was! The fish were browned to a turn, the potatoes we\nseasoned with the gravy, and there was bread and butter. I can recall\na little girl in after life who sat on my knee and never wearied of\nhearing about this feast.\n\n\"Does fall set in early here?\" Mr. Gaynor asked. \"I want to get the\nother room done\u2014it will be two, really, for this is nothing but a\nshack. That Towner must have viewed it with the eye of faith, which\nis the evidence of things unseen, and they say the winds are something\nterrible.\"\n\n\"Yes, you'll get them here off the lake, but not so bad as further down.\"\n\n\"What a tremendous lake! It fairly takes one's breath away. And those\nprairies! Are they good for wheat? A new country ought to be. The corn\nI see looks fine. Why, it fairly stirs one's blood.\"\n\nNow and then the Little Girl glanced up with a happy half smile and a\nlight coming and going in her eyes. How she seemed to enjoy it all.\n\n\"We're mightily obliged to you, young fellow,\" Mr. Gaynor said as he\nrose. \"That was a good dinner. But Ruth is too little to shoulder this\nrough sort of life. I thought I'd see if your mother couldn't find us\na woman to come in part of the time, and we want some furniture\u2014table\nand chairs, and some sort of a cot to sleep on. By the great Mogul!\nthis _is_ coming to a new country! and it's beginning from the very\nfoundation.\"\n\n\"Mother spoke of coming over,\" I said. \"I think she can find some one.\nAnd next week I hope to go to work at Mr. Hubbard's; then I shall see\nyou often. Oh, I know my mother is very much interested in you.\"\n\n\"And we need a good woman friend, don't we, Little Girl?\" as he softly\npinched his daughter's cheek. \"We can imagine how it was when they came\nover in the Mayflower. We've come to a new country.\"\n\nThen he went out to look after his men. We tidied up a little, washed\nthe few dishes and had a merry time, and to my surprise I saw the portly\nform of my mother peering about as if not quite sure of her bearings.\nI ran out to her.\n\n\"Well, well,\" and she kissed the Little Girl. \"You have had some dinner\nI know by the smell, and I have brought you a loaf of bread an' a\ncake an' part of a boiled ham an' a jar of fruit. It's the grandmother\nbringing something to little Red Riding Hood, only you are not very red.\nYou must get some color in your cheeks.\"\n\nAfter we had talked awhile I called in Mr. Gaynor, who laid a few of his\nplans and his wants before her, and she spoke of some help she thought\nshe could get.\n\nThen she asked to look over Ruth's clothing. There was not much of it,\nand tied up in a pillow case. Mother gave a few sage nods over it.\n\n\"She'll want a couple of woollen winter frocks. I'll conjure them out\nfor her, though I'm quick to say I know more about jackets and breeches.\nThey can wait awhile, but she ought to have a new gingham. You go to\nchurch?\"\n\n\"Well\u2014I'd like her to go if 'twas handy.\"\n\n\"You'll want some dishes an' things, and pervisions. But you can't bake\nnothin' 'cept johnny cake. You'll get a stove? They're mighty handy when\nyou don't have an oven. Though ther's a bake pan that answers.\"\n\n\"When we get in the new room we'll be a little more forehanded as to\nthings. Well, do what's about right,\" and he gave her some money.\n\nThe Little Girl looked with wide open shining eyes as we went along\nKinzie Street and turned into LaSalle, where the Cayses kept a country\nstore at that time. There were two or three higher toned ones, where\narticles were not so promiscuously mixed. At first glance it seemed like\nmoving day. It was long and low, with two counters, one for dry goods\nand a yard measure, and the other with scales for weighing everything\nfrom powder and shot to an ounce of spice, coffee, sugar, honey,\nmolasses, butter, pork, hams, even game that had been traded off for\nother wants, along with more bulky wares and farming implements.\n\nMa'am Cayse, as she was generally called, was a short, stout,\nstrong-looking woman with a square jaw, large white teeth, a rather\nflat nose and a forehead that took full one-half of her face. Her sandy\nhair was twisted in a tight knot at the back of her head, her skirt\nwas short, showing both homespun stockings and home-made shoes. A sort\nof loose sacque enveloped the upper part of her body with the sleeves\nrolled over in a wad nearly to the shoulder.\n\n\"Who's gal is that?\" she asked abruptly.\n\n\"Her father took the Towner place. He's buildin' onto it.\"\n\n\"Some one must have money in sech times as these. It's skace as hen's\nteeth. I declare to man if I could get holt of half a dollar I'd pinch\nthe eagle 'til he squealed, an' ther's goin' to be a vandue, too.\"\n\n\"Whose vanduin'?\" asked mother with a look of interest. People in newly\nsettled places are apt to coin words, I have noticed, and after awhile\nsome of them get regularly accepted.\n\n\"Why the Simses, goin' back to Cahoky before cold weather, but I'd\ngo way down to Noo Orleens if I was them and wanted to keep warm. An'\n'tother folks go to Canady or up to Mackinac. Ye jest can't count for\ntastes. What'll ye have?\"\n\nMother ordered with an air of slow indifference. The gingham was really\npretty I thought, with some fine lines of blue and red with the black\nand little squares of white. Some eatables followed in turn, and the\nordinary country gossip until the next customer came in. It was rather\nearly for the men to be congregating in a line across the front, smoking\ntheir pipes. Those who tarried here were mostly church-going people who\nwould not be seen at the taverns, but dearly loved to argue politics or\nreligion.\n\n\"I'm glad she spoke of that vandue,\" said mother when we were out of\nhearing. \"Ther' may be a chance to get a bargain.\"\n\nFor bargains were as dear to women's hearts then as now.\n\nWe rambled down the river side, then crossed the bridge and came up\nto recross it again. Mr. Gaynor had impressed some new workmen in his\nservice and matters were being pushed ahead rapidly.\n\n\"And while mother goes to the vandue we will take a walk,\" I said.\n\"We'll go to Fort Dearborn, and I'll tell you the story. Only it is very\nsad.\"\n\n\"The Indian stories always are,\" she said with a sigh. \"Do you suppose\nGod made them cruel like because they had to fight each other so much?\nAnd what is there clear out west when they get there?\"\n\nI shook my head. We had not much faith in the noble red men in those\ndays, and those lingering about Chicago were rather disreputable.\n\nMother settled with Mr. Gaynor about going to the Simses' sale, and I\narranged to take Ruth to Fort Dearborn. I would have only two days more.\n\nFather was confident the mantle of honor would fall upon me. Sim Chase\nhe declared a lazy lout. They had tried him at the mill.\n\nThe weather was still superb. Ruth and I crossed the bridge and picked\nour way over the dusty roads. Surely we needed rain\u2014we were always\neither dust or mud.\n\nNo one remarked the Little Girl in her faded frock and sun-bonnet, now\nnearly white. Now and then someone looked sharply at me, and it brought\nthe color to my cheek. I had never thought about girls. I had gone to\na boys' school and had been pretty busy with lessons and rather fond of\nstaying home with mother and hearing her talk of her young days. I had\nno especial consciousness about a girl now, my only wish being that she\nwas truly my sister and lived with us.\n\nIt is all swept away but the tablet and the monument. But before the\nlast century had ended, by the treaty of Granville with five Indian\ntribes, a piece of ground six miles square at the entrance of the\nChicago river was set aside for the building of a fort where there had\nonce been a French trading post. It was a stockade with block houses,\nto be one of the chain for outposts of defence for the trade growing\nof more importance every year. Down here came Captain Whistler and his\nson and the two wives from Detroit, with the company for work and for\ndefence, and bravely they went at their task. On the north side was\nthe sally port or passage leading from the parade ground to the river,\nto be used as an escape in time of emergency. There were no horses or\noxen and the men hauled the wood. There were Indian outbreaks now and\nthen, but the little colony increased and all about the fort clustered\na settlement.\n\nAnd so it remained for about nine years. The women had learned to\nbe as brave as the men, as fearless too. Then came the sudden and\nunexpected orders from Detroit to evacuate the fort, as Detroit was to\nbe surrendered to the English. There had been numerous Indian raids on\nother forts.\n\nThe Pottawattamies had been very good friends with the soldiers and the\ndwellers about. But when they heard that General Hull had ordered that\nthe property in the fort was to be distributed among the Indians they\nsecretly joined the marauding bands, though they promised a safe-conduct\nto those within. Captain Wells ordered the whiskey to be poured into\nthe river, and the powder to be destroyed, knowing the liquor would make\nfiends of the savages. So one August day they started, women, children\nand wagons, guarded by the soldiers; but when they had gone a mile or\nso from the fort, they found themselves almost surrounded by Indians,\nthe remnants of various tribes that had not moved to the reservation,\nand the Pottawattamies joining them, the dreadful massacre occurred. A\nnumber were carried prisoners to St. Joseph.\n\nMrs. Heald, who had brought with her from Kentucky, on her marriage,\na beautiful mare, which had aroused the envy of two Indian chiefs, who\nhad made several attempts to steal it, rode out of the fort, but as soon\nas the raid was made she was forced to dismount and see her favorite in\nthe hands of the savages, and she was led back to the fort a prisoner,\nwhile her husband was killed and treated with cruel indignity. Then the\nIndians took possession of the fort and held pandemonium for a few days.\nAfterward the Indians went off to attack Fort Wayne.\n\nWe rambled about the fort that had been rebuilt later on, and was now\nbeing evacuated for the second time, the victories over the rambling\nbands of Indians having made the country quite secure. Ruth Gaynor had\nheard of massacres in her native State not less cruel.\n\n\"But Mrs. Heald and her beautiful horse?\" she queried with pathos in\nboth eyes and voice.\n\n\"No money could buy it back. Some Indian chief thought too highly of\nhis four-footed prisoner to give it up. Mrs. Heald, badly wounded, for\nshe had fought bravely for her freedom, was left for a few days with an\nIndian trader at St. Joseph's and was finally permitted to return to\nLouisville. Some of the prisoners were taken up to Michigan and given\ntheir liberty on the recapture of Detroit. The fort was set on fire and\nmade a heap of ruins. Several of the prisoners returned, but for a long\nwhile the station was well-nigh deserted by immigrants.\"\n\nIt looked deserted now. A drooping flag waved over it, but there was no\nglitter of arms or soldiery tread of sentinels. Business was taking the\nplace of picturesque romance.\n\n\"You know,\" Ruth said in an awed voice, \"there are stories of ghosts\nappearing. Did no one ever see Mrs. Heald on her beautiful horse riding\nout, or around?\"\n\nIt was growing toward night now, and the drifting clouds had obscured\nthe sunset. The lake stretched off weird and dark. We had climbed some\nsteps and now we looked and listened and then glanced at each other.\nThe spirited form of the woman who had fought for her life should have\nappeared.\n\n\"Come, we must go home,\" I said. I was conscious of a curious impression\nstealing over me.\n\n\"I should like to see _her_,\" Ruth said longingly. \"I do not think I\nshould be a bit afraid.\"\n\nI took her hand and helped her down. \"We will come again,\" I said, \"but\nmother will wonder what has become of us.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III\n\nTHROUGH THE WINTER\n\n\nThe workmen were just leaving off when we reached the place that was to\nbe home for the Little Girl, and where she was to spend many happy days.\nTo-morrow they were to raise the framework. There was no eight-hour day\nor discussion at that period. I gathered an armful of blocks and made\nthe fire. We broiled slices of ham and had some excellent bread, in the\nmaking of which my mother excelled. Mr. Gaynor was much interested in\nFort Dearborn, and strong in his denunciation of General Hull delivering\nup Detroit, as it had inspired the Indians with hopes of re-conquest of\nmany of the posts. But heroic Anthony Wayne had soon turned the tide.\n\n\"I thought you were going to stay all night,\" exclaimed my mother rather\ntartly, \"or that ther' had been a new Indian raid and you had lost your\nheadpiece. Ther' ain't much sense in it, 'pears like, but you'd look\nrather queer without it.\"\n\nI only laughed a little. It was the best way of restoring her to good\nhumor. The men were nearly always off playing cards. Dan was nineteen, a\nfine strapping fellow, good looking too, and a great hand for argument.\nA little one between Dan and myself had died.\n\nMother went to the vendue and bought some necessary furnishings for\nthe new house. Meanwhile the frame had been raised, the near neighbors\nturning out to help. Mr. Gaynor's being a Yankee went rather against\nhim, but the fact that he had some cash to pay out evened up matters.\nHe treated generously to whiskey\u2014they were steady drinkers in those\ndays\u2014and could stand a good deal. He was very abstemious I learned\nafterward.\n\nMother also found an old colored woman, half a century seemed to age\nthe negroes then, and Aunt Becky had grandchildren grown up. She was\nquite a famous cook, and at the rush times at the taverns, holidays\nand political gatherings cooked for the feasts. Any of them would have\nemployed her all the time, but working steady was her aversion. She was\npersuaded, however, to go for two or three hours a day, until better,\nor steadier, help could be obtained.\n\nI dropped in at the warehouse and found to my great joy that I had\nsecured the position.\n\n\"Now you've only got to carry yourself straight and keep a civil tongue\nin your head,\" said my father, \"and you'll get a good business insight\nthat'll make your fortune some day, if you have brains enough; and\nyou keep out of taverns and cards and let whiskey alone until you get\nballast enough not to run aground.\"\n\nThere was, I suppose, a good deal of dissipation in those days, but men\nwere strong and hardy too. Quarrels were not infrequent and occasionally\nhad a desperate ending. But there were some admirable homes, and mothers\nwho left a strong moral impress on their families. The living had a\ncertain fine simplicity if it was not so intellectual.\n\nI liked my new place very much. I was general factotum, to be sure, with\noccasionally an over-measure of hard words. Mr. Harris always stood my\nfriend. He soon found that I was ready at figures and had what he called\nideas; my mother's homely name for it was \"gumption.\" Mr. Gaynor used\nthe word also.\n\nDid any one then, with all the boasting and bragging, imagine that\nin half a century Chicago would spring into wonderful prominence,\noutstripping older towns with a vivid maturity, be burned to ashes, rise\nagain and lift itself not only out of ashes but out of the slough, and\nif it could not be a city set on a hill, still become marvellous in its\nadvancement of all kinds? I thought then that Eagle fleet of vessels\nwas simply astonishing with the freights they carried across the lake.\nMen were fighting then for a canal, a clear waterway to the Mississippi\nwithout any portage.\n\nI liked to hear Mr. Harris's reminiscences of the town. LeVasseur &\nHubbard opened the first dry-goods store about 1820. Mr. LeVasseur was a\nfine man and did a good deal of trading with the Indians for furs, and\nhad several outlying posts. Mr. Hubbard was a very public-spirited and\nambitious citizen. Then for years he coasted up and down the lake in\nCanadian bateaux, commonly known as Mackinaw boats. Some years before\nthis he had erected a large brick building on LaSalle Street, often\ntermed Hubbard's folly, where beef and pork were packed for the outlying\ntrade. His faith in the town was undaunted by the numerous mishaps, and\nhe was Commissioner of the Illinois and Michigan canal, and turned the\nfirst shovel of dirt on the nation's birthday, July fourth, though it\nlanguished for several years.\n\nI went early and often stayed late, but ran away at noon to see how it\nfared with the Little Girl, though I found my mother was taking a useful\noversight of her. The house went along as if by magic. I can recall our\nreading a few fairy stories later on about palaces springing up in a\nnight, and she laughingly said\u2014\"That was the way with our old house, do\nyou remember?\"\n\nThe main room had a wide fireplace, the smaller one beside it was for\nRuth, and here stood her cot and a rude dressing-table and bureau, which\nwas simply a large box shelved, with a curtain drawn before it. Then\nthe old log house was patched up and made into a comfortable kitchen.\nThere was plenty of scrubby pine for firewood when one could get nothing\nbetter. Mother's vendue furniture comprised a large table, with leaves\nsupported with a brace and let down when not in use, a cot, a bedstead\nset up in the best room, quite a fashion then, several chair frames that\ncould be new seated and various kitchen utensils with some dishes.\n\nMr. Gaynor was a \"handy\" man, an ingenious Yankee. In a couple of months\nhe was in great demand, and his odd jobs supplied the family living, for\nmoney being a scarce commodity, barter was much in favor. He was very\nshrewd at bargain making, but he had a pleasant, half-whimsical way with\nhim that made and kept friends.\n\nThere were several schools now, though it did not need a very old\nresident to remember the first one opened at the end of Mr. Kinzie's\ngarden, where the children spelled in concert out of the book found in a\ntea chest, and learned arithmetic orally. Then Mr. Watkins taught boys\nin a room off the postoffice, or rather the building used for that and\nsundry other purposes.\n\nA Miss Chappel with her friend, Mary Barrows, came from Mackinaw and\nopened a school for girls and young children. Afterward Miss Chappel\nmarried the Presbyterian minister, Reverend Mr. Porter, but she still\ntook a warm interest in education. Miss Barrows went on with the school.\n\nWe were Methodists, though for some years every denomination had been\nrepresented. A veteran Methodist preacher, Rev. Jesse Walker, had\nsucceeded in building a small frame church at Clark and North Water\nstreets. The women were the most regular church goers. The children were\nfond of the Sunday School, for a large part of the exercises consisted\nin singing.\n\nMr. Gaynor was pleased to have Ruth go. Big boys were apt to stray off,\nbut I was very regular now, and often walked home with the Little Girl,\nand on these occasions we had fine fun cooking supper. Then we would\nsit before the fire and talk or read. Books were not very abundant. Mr.\nGaynor had an old Bible, the \"Pilgrim's Progress,\" a copy of \"The Lady\nof the Lake,\" and a few old school books. The \"Pilgrim's Progress\" we\nfound very entertaining. To us it was real travels, and the characters\nabsolute people.\n\nRuth came over to the house often on Saturday, as Miss Barrows kept that\nday for herself. She learned to cook, to sew and began to spin a little.\nShe knew how to knit, except that she did not quite understand shaping\na stocking.\n\nThe boys were rather rough and shy at first, but after a little they\nquite adored her, and hunted up curious things for presents. Homer was\na jolly sort of lad, Ben rather gentle, but Chris rough and tormenting.\nI used to envy them the Saturdays.\n\nWinter set in early. What tremendous winds scurried across the lake,\nbeating up great waves, or rushed down from the north and sometimes\nthreatened to drown us out! Navigation had to be given up mostly; we\nhad not then learned what fetters and warders to put on the inland sea.\n\nAnd then the snow! The great drifts blowing in from the prairies, the\nroads trodden down as solid as stone, the sledges and rude sort of\nsleighs, the jingle of bells for those who were lucky enough to own any.\nPart of the time the Little Girl could not venture out, though Ben often\nbrought her home on his sled.\n\n\"But it is all so beautiful,\" she said, looking over the wide prairie\none Sunday. \"Norman, what is over beyond the Mississippi?\"\n\n\"Mountains and mountains.\"\n\nSome hardy explorers had gone out, but we knew nothing of the western\ncoast then.\n\n\"And then?\" with gentle insistence.\n\n\"The Pacific Coast.\"\n\n\"The Delectable Mountains and the beautiful land where the shepherds\nare feeding their flocks, and where there are vineyards and gardens and\nflowers of every hue and fragrance. It is the Promised Land, Norman.\nSome day you and I will start and travel\u2014it will take weeks and weeks,\nand we shall be filled with delight at its loveliness. We will start\nquite by ourselves, and keep our secret until we do go.\"\n\nShe looked gravely inspired as her eyes turned westward over the wastes\nof snow.\n\nYears afterward we were to go to the beautiful land and wander among\norange groves and vines and figs and such flowers as we had not dreamed\nof then, but the name of the country was California.\n\nI put my arm over her shoulder. How fair she was, and her sapphire eyes\nshone with a kind of unearthly light. Now and then there came over me a\nstrange sort of fear as if sometime she might vanish away to an unknown\nworld and I be left alone.\n\n\"You are cold,\" I said; \"come in doors.\"\n\nThe great log had burned in twain and now broke with a crash, sending up\nmyriad sparks while the red coals seemed to pulsate like living things.\nI stirred them up, brought the ends together, and the next moment we\nhad a magnificent blaze.\n\n\"Oh, let us pop some corn,\" she cried. She was down to earth again.\n\"Yes, it does feel lovely here by the fire. I'll go for the corn.\"\n\nBut I thrust down my arm in the great box and brought up two ears, so\nthat I could shell one with the other. Mr. Gaynor, with the aid of the\nblacksmith, had made a tolerable popper. I drew out the coals and then\nshelled a handful. She held it and shook it from time to time, and we\nlaughed at the snapping and bouncing. We took off the lid. It wasn't\njust the kind of corn to turn inside out, like a white rose, but some\nof it was very soft and velvety. I liked the really roasted grains the\nbest. She, girl-like, preferred the more delicate ones. So we laughed\nand ate our fill until we were thirsty.\n\n\"Oh,\" she began suddenly, \"let us read 'The Lady of the Lake.'\"\n\nI did not think I was very fond of verse. It suggested the hymn book\nthat I looked over now and then, and that always left an uncomfortable\nfeeling in my mind.\n\nShe hunted up the book, and bringing a small stand near the fire lighted\nthe candle. We had made the blaze of the pine torch standing up in the\ncorner do duty until then.\n\n\"I am going to read,\" she began. \"I liked it so much one day. But you\nmust sit up very straight and not go to sleep. This first part about\nthe Harp of the North, I don't care for, so I'll begin here.\n\n     \"'The stag at eve had drunk his fill,\n     Where danced the moon on Monan's rill\u2014'\"\n\nThen she suddenly paused, \"This is all in Scotland. Do you know where\nScotland is?\"\n\n\"It is north of England.\"\n\n\"We haven't liked England over well. Grandmother Marvin used to talk\nabout the War of 1812, for grandfather was a sailor and was killed. And\nthere was all the Revolution. Do you think we will ever fight England\nagain?\"\n\n\"If we do we'll lick her again,\" I said with boyish American grit.\n\n\"I shouldn't mind war against the Indians,\" she said slowly. \"And I do\nhope England will stay over the other side of the ocean, and\u2014Norman,\"\nhesitatingly, \"did you ever see a real deer?\"\n\n\"Why, yes. That's where they get venison steak.\"\n\n\"Oh, now, I will begin again.\"\n\nShe read very clearly and with the appreciation that gives the listener\nan insight into the real meaning. I could not have gone to sleep. The\nchase stirred all my blood, but I was glad the deer escaped. The lovely\nlake among the mountains, the maiden in her skiff, the encounter, the\nguidance, the enchanted hall, the welcome to the unknown knight of\nSnowdoun, and the promise of the song. Why, I remembered lines of it\nand said myself to sleep with them.\n\n\"That is the end of the first canto. Next Sunday night you shall read.\nIt sounds like music, doesn't it?\" closing the old book.\n\n\"Yes,\" I assented. It still rang in my ears.\n\nThere was a shuffling and stamping at the door. Mr. Gaynor beat out his\nold hat on the post.\n\n\"Jerusalem! The old woman's feather bed has burst open this time, I\nguess. Why, you can't see your hand before you. I've been in snows\nbefore, but this is about the worst old tougher I ever encountered.\nNorme\u2014\" he had taken up the familiar name\u2014\"thank your stars you are\nthis near the warehouse, if, indeed, you can get there at all to-morrow\nmorning. But I don't suppose there'll be much trade,\" with a short\nchuckle.\n\nI knew that was an invitation to stay all night. I had stayed twice\nbefore in a pouring rain.\n\n\"Oh, let's see!\" Ruth sprang up.\n\nBut as she opened the door a swirl of snow flew nearly across the room,\nand she staggered.\n\nIt took both of us to shut the door and then we put up the bar. For a\nfew moments it was a primitive cyclone. Ruth brushed the snow out of\nher hair and eyes and laughed. Mr. Gaynor stirred up the fire.\n\n\"I hope you're satisfied. You saw the snow,\" he said jocosely.\n\nThe wind swept about with a murderous howl as only a western prairie\nwind can. A flock of wolves could not have equalled it in the shrieks.\nThen there would be a long bay like that of some great hound, or a\nmocking whistle as if the fiends were abroad. We really could not talk.\nMr. Gaynor helped himself liberally to roasted corn.\n\nPresently it died down and was solemnly still. The Yankee clock on the\ncorner shelf in the best room\u2014John Gaynor could not have lived without\nthat\u2014struck nine.\n\n\"Time to be coverin' up fires,\" he said. \"Sis, you run to bed. Want to\nsee the snow again?\"\n\n\"Yes, I do,\" with laughing persistence.\n\nHe opened the door cautiously. The great white sheet was like a wall.\nYou could not see it stir at first, but there was a muffled sound in\nthe air, an indescribable sound almost like the echo of music miles and\nmiles away.\n\n\"It is wonderful!\" the Little Girl said, her eyes like a clear midnight\nsky. \"It is a strange world, terrible sometimes, too.\"\n\n\"Better spread that wolf skin over your bed,\" her father advised as he\nreturned her good-night.\n\nI crawled over to the back part of John Gaynor's bed, though there was\na great mound of feathers between us. People were hale and hearty in\nthose days, if they did sleep half buried in feathers. But it seemed to\nme all night long that I heard the melody of the little girl's voice in\nthe sweetest of cadences.\n\nIt was the first big snow of the season and now it was mid December. One\nhad to begin at once to dig out window shutters and doors, but as the\ndoors opened on the inside they were more manageable. It was still gray\nand cold and one had to be muffled up to the eyes. We shovelled a path\nout to the road, then threw it this way and that until it was a decent\nlevel and hammered it down with a shovel. Then we took the back to the\npigpen. We heard the grunts, so they were not frozen. Indeed they had\na tolerably warm home provided for them.\n\nRuth made pancakes. Mr. Gaynor had quite a large round ring of iron that\none put on the coals. The pan stood on the top of this; a good big pan\nit was, and the batter was poured out of the pitcher. Ruth liked small,\ndainty cakes, her father enjoyed them about as big as a dinner plate.\nHe had a curious knack of turning them without flopping. He liked them\nquite thick as well, so he baked several first.\n\n\"Those little fellows ain't a mouthful for a good-sized man!\" he\ndeclared. \"'Twould keep you eating all day.\"\n\nWe had fried pork besides, and it was wonderfully good. There was \"long\nsweetenin',\" a thick sort of molasses. Sometimes we had a kind of maple\nsugar syrup. Ruth and I baked, and then we sat down to eat, and told\nover the funny sayings that we could recall. It was very jolly.\n\nThe wood was piled up in a sort of lean-to at the side of the house, so\nI brought in a supply of that. We went out in the street again and a few\npedestrians were snowballing each other. A sort of drag with four oxen\ncame along to break the road a little. The town looked like a nest of\nsmall white beehives. The snow had blown off the trees, and they stood\nbare and black against the sky, the finer branches as if traced by a\npencil.\n\nI thought I would venture down to the warehouse, but I had not gone far\nwhen I met one of the clerks, who reported everything \"stiller'n the\ngrave,\" so I turned about. We played high low Jack, and then I took up\n\"fox and geese\" with Ruth, who couldn't see why I should beat whether I\nwas fox or geese. So to her great delight I let her pen up the poor fox,\nwhile her father sat by and smoked his corn cob pipe. Then we shelled a\nlot of corn, and had a late dinner of fried chicken, at which Mr. Gaynor\ntried his hand, and it was excellent. I thought I should like to see my\nfather undertake to cook!\n\nAfterward I declared I must go home.\n\n\"Oh, why do you?\" asked Ruth pleadingly.\n\n\"I don't want to wear my welcome out, I want to come again.\"\n\n\"He ain't likely to, is he, Sis? Seems to me his folks might spare one\nboy when they have so many. Let's toss up a cent to see which one. This\nis for Homer.\"\n\n\"But I don't want Homer,\" with pretty petulance.\n\n\"Ben or Chris?\" He was twirling the penny in his fingers.\n\n\"I don't want any boy but Norman.\"\n\n\"And up at Hubbard's they have a mortgage on him. They're trying to\nteach him how many black beans make five.\"\n\nRuth knitted her pretty forehead, then said disdainfully, \"As if he\ndidn't know!\"\n\n\"Well, then, if a pig can eat a bushel of corn in twenty-four hours, how\nmuch fat will it put on his bones? This is a matter of great importance\nto Mr. Gurdon Hubbard. I think he has offered a prize for its solution,\"\nand he winked at me.\n\n\"A pig couldn't eat it,\" she said; \"he would be a hog.\"\n\nWe both laughed at that.\n\n\"Now, young fellow, if you get lost in the snow, don't blame us. We've\ngiven you fair warning. 'Tain't likely the house will blow over, seeing\nas it stood the gale of last night. And, reely, I don't believe it will\nrain to-night and loosen the underpinning, and there's enough to eat.\"\n\nIn spite of this friendliness I had to tear myself away. But I did\nget stuck in more than one pile of snow and twice had to fight my way\nthrough showers of snowballs.\n\nWe never saw clear ground again until March. There was not much business\ndoing and the men gathered in the warm taverns to play cards and swap\nstories and demolish political candidates, and praise or blame Old\nHickory, as the President was termed who had fought his country's\nbattles and served her for nearly eight years in the highest civil\ncapacity. That the country would go to ruin without him was surely\npredicted; that he had brought her to the verge of ruin the other side\nclaimed.\n\nEvery few days I was at the Gaynors', but the Little Girl had given up\nschool. She knit stockings, she sewed and cooked, and we both concluded\n\"The Lady of the Lake\" was the loveliest of all lovely stories.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV\n\nA POLITICAL DIFFERENCE\n\n\nSpring came at last, though some of us almost longed for the frozen\npaths when we sank inches deep in the mud. We really were a city now\nand had a mayor about whom there was still some contention. He had been\nelected by the small majority. There were many citizens who objected to\nthis step and even then aldermen were looked upon with some suspicion.\nWhere was the money to come from for all the improvements planned? We\nwere going along comfortably, why not let well enough alone?\n\nThere were a few sidewalks, but the streets were a terror until they\nsettled a little. The wind helped; there were times when it swept from\nthe prairies and brought the inspiration of the far west, the promise of\nwhat could be done shortly, visions of acres of wheat fields that were\nto be powerful rivals to peltries and furs.\n\nIt was absolutely funny sometimes to hear the old men talk who gathered\nabout the wharf or strolled round the warehouse, which was stretching\nout as well as running over. We, engaged in the heart of things, had\nour hands full, and were not likely to \"creak in the j'ints\" for lack\nof exercise.\n\n\"This 'ere Hubbard 'lows he knows most every thin',\" old Hiram Green\nwould say, \"'sif the Lord had gin him a kind of far-off sight and\ncalled him into council t' settle things. Ther's some freightin', but\nhe didn't diskiver it. Fore he was born things come down from Detroit\nan' Canady. 'N I've hearn tell that some old Frenchman talked this canal\nbusiness long time ago. Ther's nothin' new under the sun\u2014Solomon said\nso\u2014an' 'though I don't hold altogether to Solomon, he had a clear head\nthere. Canal'l never be built more'n I be made over. Sho now! Country\nwas good enough forty year ago, when you could get your livin' huntin'\nand fishin' and were livin' neighborly round the blockhouse.\"\n\n\"Ye ferget the Injun raids,\" said Abe Byers. \"Had to git yer scalp\nfasten'd on tight every mornin' er cut yer hair short. An' what's livin'\nwuth if yer ain't improvin'? We want a good clear run to the Mississip\u2014\"\n\n\"An' be holpen them ther' towns all along the river. Ther's Saint Louis\nan' Kasky an' Cahooky an' down to Noo Orleens, all them ther' places to\nthe east that are braggin' theirselves up, and we'm goin' to be jest a\nsort o' isthmus between this and that,\" balancing his hands one way and\nthe other. \"All they want is er right o' way jest to tromp thro' us, to\nbuy things down yender and sell 'em up ther',\" nodding his head. \"An'\nwho gits the money? I declar' to man I ain't seen a dollar in so long\nthat I'm 'feared I should drop dead if one kem my way.\"\n\n\"We can't spare you yit, Hi' Green, so we ain't goin' to put that ther'\nkind o' sacrifice in your way,\" laughed a good-natured man. \"Some day\nwhen you're 'bout a hundred they'll be writin' a story of Chicago, an'\nthey'll want to know these 'ere old facts. So you jes' keep 'em safely\nstored in that brain of yourn.\"\n\n\"Can't many remember furder back?\" returned the old man, somewhat\nmollified. \"I've hearn granpop tell 'bout that old black fellow thet\ncome from some o' the islands down 'bout Gulf o' Mexico with his injun\nwife when ther' were only a few tradin' cabins, an' ther' land was free\nfor anybody who could give a string o' beads to an Injun.\"\n\n\"Beads won't pass muster now, and I wonder if Pierre Menard didn't feel\nsick afterward when he found what a good bargain he had unloaded on John\nKinzie. The Kinzie tribe will be rich enough presently.\"\n\n\"An' then'll come a flood er a fire and swoop down on everything.\"\n\n\"But the land can't be burned up, and it isn't ginerally drowned out.\nPrairie sand can lick up a good deal of water.\"\n\nI had been half listening to the rambling disputations, and now I turned\nfrom my rough desk by the window, which was simply a board with four\nlegs, the two front ones shortened, to Mr. Harris, who stood by his,\nthat was my admiration, though not long afterward it was donated to me\nand he had a much finer one.\n\n\"Is it true that Menard was sick of his bargain?\" I asked doubtfully.\n\n\"I believe he was,\" Mr. Harris laughed. \"I'd like to buy it now for\nfifty dollars. I don't believe he has done any better. Le Mai, a French\ntrader, bought part of it. But Ouilmette's old house is still standing,\nstone and logs and plaster.\"\n\nMichigan Avenue came through it long ago. The Indian wife was quite\nadmired in her day, being tall and straight, and though many white women\ncould not read in those times, she was both shrewd and intelligent.\n\n\"I must hunt it up,\" I said. The little girl was always asking about\nold places and strange things that we call legends now.\n\nShe had wondered about the name. I had inquired of several. It was an\nold Indian appellation, it was said, and meant \"wild onion.\" Once the\ngreat Mississippi was called Chacaqua or Divine River, and was supposed\nto be under the care of the Thunder god.\n\n\"Oh, that is very pretty,\" she declared, \"though we do not believe there\nis a god for everything, and gods living in various places.\"\n\n\"And another legend is that a great tribe of Tamaroras always called\ntheir chiefs by this title 'Checaqua.'\"\n\n\"That sounds much better than a fiery-smelling vegetable,\" the lines\nabout her mouth settling in a smile.\n\n\"And among the Sacs it was the name of one of their valiant warriors\u2014'He\nthat stands by a tree,'\"\n\n\"That is really fine. A tall straight Indian standing by a tree! But\nyou have few such splendid trees as we have at home.\"\n\nThat was true enough. The cottonwood flourished, but except for some\nmiles eastward and a long distance to the north there was little fine\ntimber.\n\nThe Little Girl and I generally took a walk on Sunday afternoon after\nthe Sunday School ended. Some of the churches had a sermon afterward,\nthe Methodists had theirs in the evening. It was quite nice walking now,\nand gardens had been put in orderly trim. We hunted up the old Ouilmette\ncabin, now a heap of ruins. The family had dispersed. But Mr. Kinzie\nhad made a very home-like place of the old estate.\n\n\"Sometime we will go and ask him to tell us about those old times,\" I\nsaid.\n\nThen there was Dr. Harmon's. That was really fine. A sod fence had been\nput up around it and he had planted fruit trees and blossoming shrubbery\nand made a pretty park of it. People often strolled along this south\npath to the settlement just to view the beauty.\n\nHouseholders were beginning to cultivate flowers somewhat, and roses\nwere trained over doors and porches. But the Little Girl sighed for the\nwild flowers of her native State, many of which I knew nothing about.\nI used to like to hear her talk of the trailing arbutus and the violets\nthat sprang up among the grass.\n\nShe began to go to school again. One afternoon in a week she came over\nto our house and mother taught her sewing and spinning on the little\nwheel. She always stayed that night and my brother Ben grew almost as\nfond of her as I. Dan noticed her now and then, but she was quite too\nsmall for him. He was a great favorite with the older girls, and was\nalways asked to their merry makings.\n\n\"I do hope he will marry young,\" said mother. \"I'm tired of such a lot\nof men kind about the house, an' the way they go through stockings! The\nheels look as if they had been gnawed out by rats.\"\n\nShe had a way of cutting them out, picking up some stitches and knitting\nin new heels. Ruth thought this a great achievement and wanted to learn\nhow.\n\n\"'Twould bother your little brains out,\" said mother with a sort of\namused kindliness.\n\n\"Are my brains very small?\" she asked gravely.\n\n\"Not smaller than common. You're only a little girl. You'll grow.\"\n\n\"And my brains will grow too? Then I shall know a great deal more.\nSuppose one didn't have any brains?\"\n\n\"Then he'd be an idjit. Most people have some, but they're not always\nput to a good use. Don't you worry, little one. You'll have brains\nenough.\"\n\nMy father, too, grew fond of her, and I think was pleased to have her\nask questions. It always seemed to me the house took on a different\naspect when she was there and the boys were more gentle.\n\nMr. Gaynor had planted his prairie strip with wheat, and was surprised\nat its astonishing fertility. Even then in a very dry time we practised\na sort of irrigation, wide spaces being left where you could drive oxen\nand a hogshead of water through, letting it run out plentifully.\n\nOne of the next things that attracted attention was the raising of\npigs. Freighting up the lake and to Buffalo continued about as before.\nEverything else was at a standstill. Not only was the Presidential\nelection approaching but that for representatives. Stephen A. Douglas\nand John T. Stuart were competing candidates, and stumped all the sparse\ntowns where there were any voters.\n\nDavis was most complimentary to the new town, and even predicted \"that\nthe children of to-day would see a city of fifty thousand inhabitants\nbefore they died.\"\n\nThis was received with yells of derision and much shouting of the catch\nwords of the day.\n\n\"Town lots! town lots! Shortest route through to China. Will it be duck\nor drakes?\"\u2014in reference to the mud and a slight hit at the men.\n\nEven the women quarrelled about their candidates and for weeks would\npass each other by with disdain. Harrison was one of the heroes of\nthe Indian wars\u2014what had Martin Van Buren done to commend him to the\npatriots of the country?\n\nWe sat out on the doorstep one evening. Mr. Gaynor was down to the\nold Green Tree Tavern, though now it had taken on the more dignified\nappellation of hotel. Quite a party of Whigs assembled there.\n\n\"Norman,\" the Little Girl began after a long silence, \"are you a Whig\nor a Democrat?\"\n\n\"I\"\u2014I seldom thought of politics except to be amused at the old men\n\"jawin'\" about it when they hung around the warehouse and passed\nopinions on the boats and the truck.\n\n\"Yes, you must be one or the other,\" a little severely.\n\n\"But I don't need to until I am twenty-one. I can't vote before that.\"\n\n\"But you can make up your mind.\"\n\n\"Father is a great Jackson man. He would not mind if they put him in\nagain. And he has been a brave soldier. Look at the Indian wars, and\nthat splendid battle of New Orleans! And Dan believes in him. They don't\nseem to know much about this new man.\"\n\n\"Father is a Whig. I am too,\" holding up her head proudly. \"They are\nthe party that wanted us to be free of England, and they fought for\nliberty.\"\n\n\"I think there wasn't much difference of opinion then. They were all\npatriots.\"\n\n\"Then how did they come to differ?\"\n\n\"Well\u2014\" I really did not know, and hesitated.\n\n\"The Whigs don't believe in slavery.\"\n\n\"Father doesn't either,\" I said with a touch of triumph.\n\n\"And there are a good many other things. They have a hero for a\ncandidate, while the Democrats have put up a dandy, who curls his hair\nand scents his handkerchief.\"\n\nMany puerile objections were made to the Democratic candidate.\n\n\"But he has been in the Senate, and he has been Minister abroad\u2014to\nEngland, and _is_ a gentleman,\" I retorted.\n\n\"Why do we want a Minister to England?\" she returned with a sort of\nroyal indifference. \"Tell me that?\"\n\n\"Countries always send Ministers to each other. There are questions\ncoming up all the time that have to be settled.\"\n\n\"I thought everything was settled in the last war.\"\n\n\"I'll try and find out. I'm paying more attention to business than\nto politics. And there are two sides to everything, to all great\nquestions.\"\n\nI thought this was rather a fine way of ending the argument. Then a\nquick step came pattering down the board walk.\n\n\"I declare the good Lord never said a truer thing than that he made man\nupright and he sought out many inventions. I'm not quite sure the Lord\nsaid that either. I haven't read the Bible much latterly, but 'pears to\nme there's no end of foolish and dishonest inventions when a man talks\npolitics. There's been the greatest lot of idiots up there to-night. If\nI didn't know more than some of 'em I'd hold my tongue forever. I don't\nhave much to say in this crowd anyhow. 'Twouldn't be quite safe, seein'\nas I'm a Yankee. I'll do my part when voting comes, and I ain't bragging\nabout it, either. Votes can talk then. Hillo, young fellow, I believe\nyour folks are on the other side. Well\u2014we'll just pass the time of day\ntill the new man gets in. I've observed then the political pot simmers\ndown wonderfully and you can shake hands across it without getting steam\nburned. Good-night, I must go shut up my chickens.\"\n\nI was standing up. \"And I must go. Good-night,\" I said.\n\nShe had been sitting on a little bench inside the porch. Now she rose\nand shook the curls out of her eyes, and responded in the coolest\nfashion.\n\nI walked away rather dazed. It had not occurred to me that anything\ncould happen between the Little Girl and myself. And why should we be\nless friends for the sake of two strangers who were really nothing to\nus?\n\nFather and Dan were coming in the opposite direction and we just met at\nthe path to the doorway.\n\n\"Where you been, Norme?\" Dan inquired roughly. \"With that ther' blasted\nWhig from Yankeeland, listenin' an' believin' all sorts of lies. See\nhere, you're born of good, staunch, Democratic people, and you'll vote\nthat ticket when you're of age er I'll know the reason why,\" and he\nseized me by the ear.\n\n\"Dan!\" exclaimed father, in a stern voice, loosing his hand, \"you've\nbeen drinking too much whiskey. I'm ashamed of you! You are taking just\nthe way to make people despise the Democrats. Go to bed and sober up and\ndon't let me see you in this condition again or I'll horsewhip you. Not\na word, sir.\"\n\nDan went shuffling off, grumbling to himself.\n\nIt was no uncommon thing for young men to drink, but the self-respecting\nclass was seldom drunk.\n\n\"I wish they'd put a President in for ten years,\" said father angrily.\n\"I don't know but we will begin to fight each other pretty soon. Let\nDan get asleep before you go upstairs, and don't make no note of it in\nthe morning. Dan's a nice lad, generally speaking.\"\n\n\"What is the great difference between the parties?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Well\u2014I'll be hanged if I know, only 't seems as if men wanted to make\nit wider all the time. Ther's high and low tariff, and I can't tell\nwhich is best. Then ther's slavery, and northern Democrats are pretty\nmuch agin that. And money\u2014one paper says one thing, one the other. Both\nmen are good enough fur's I can see. From the bottom of my soul I wish\nTippecanoe had been our candidate and a Democrat. Ther's the battle of\nMiami Rapids and Tippecanoe and Fort Meigs and the Thames. He's a good,\nbrave soldier, and he's shown a wise head about Indian affairs and such,\nand he's been to Congress. I'd like it to be so you could vote for the\nbest fellow. But it's party, party. Thank the Lord you're not old enough\nto have anything to do with it.\"\n\nDan was all right the next morning, but not as boisterous as usual. I\nwent over to the warehouse in a rather troubled frame of mind, with a\nmisgiving that I had been warned on both sides. At our nooning hour I\nquestioned Mr. Harris about the merits of each party.\n\n\"You'd better read up history and the Constitution and the Declaration\nof Independence, and see where you come out. I guess there'll always be\ntwo parties. Now England's a monarchy and there's two parties there.\nSometimes one rules the House of Commons, sometimes the other. But it\nis a queer thing that reforms start with the weaker party and have a\nhard time to get a hearing, but they grow and grow, and one is always a\ncheck on the other. Yes, you're old enough to begin to understand some\nof these things, but don't get to be a rabid politician, or you'll be\nserved with walking-papers;\" and he laughed.\n\nThursday Ruth Gaynor went home direct from school and did not take her\nsewing lesson.\n\n\"I do wonder what has happened to Ruth,\" mother said when I came home\nto supper. \"Was she well last night? You were there?\"\n\n\"Yes, she was well. She did not say anything about not coming.\"\n\n\"She'll be in then to-morrow, I reckon.\"\n\nI had a guilty feeling. What if it spoiled the friendship? I wanted to\ngo down at noon, but pride held me back. She was more than any political\nfeeling\u2014why for her sake I would have been Whig or anything.\n\nI saw her in Sunday School and my heart gave a great bound. Hers was\na girls' class across the room. She had on a white frock and a pretty\nwhite ruffled sunbonnet. The lesson dragged, the singing lost its\nmelody, but at last came the benediction. The children loitered in\nlittle groups outside. I hung back, glad to talk to a boy about muskrat\ntrapping. Ben went up to her boldly.\n\n\"Why didn't you come? We missed you so. Mother couldn't think what got\nyer.\"\n\n\"Got yer,\" she returned with a soft little laugh. \"What kind of an\nanimal is it?\"\n\nBen's face was scarlet. We were used to the town vernacular, which was\na conglomeration of Virginia, Kentucky, trapper and rough boatman's\nspeech, as is often the case with immigrant tongue. She was dainty in\nall she did and said.\n\n\"Oh, you know what I mean,\" with a protesting boyish gesture. \"Come home\nwith us now. Even pop wondered what if you were sick.\"\n\n\"No\u2014I was busy. I was trying to do\u2014some things, and\u2014\"\n\nI came around the other side, and gained courage enough to look in\nthe sunbonnet. A tumultuous color hovered over the sweet face, the\nlips had fluttering curves, the long lashes glittered with the light\nshining through. I could not have put it in words, but it was one of the\nremembrances I set along side of my first glance of her. Her hand hung\ndown by her side, a slim little hand, not much sunburned. She kept her\nfair complexion through wind and sun.\n\nA sudden accession of courage seized me, and I caught it very gently.\nIt was not withdrawn, and my heart went up with a bound, though she was\nanswering Ben.\n\n\"You'll come home with us now. Coax her, Norme. Ther' was the grandest\nchicken potpie for dinner, an' some left, an' I picked berries for Mr.\nKinzie, an' ther's lots of 'em left. They're lickin' good.\"\n\n\"Don't be so economical with your letters, Ben,\" she returned drolly.\n\"And what is lickin' good?\"\n\n\"As if any one with half a wit couldn't guess!\" returned Ben with a very\nred face. \"Why, when you want to lick off your lips and your fingers,\nmaybe,\" emphasizing the words he seldom took the trouble to pronounce\ncorrectly. \"And\u2014the batter left in the cake dish, though Chris always\nseizes on that now.\"\n\nShe gave a soft ripple of laughter.\n\n\"Say\u2014\" Bessie Hale pushed in front of us, a big, energetic girl with\nreddish hair and flaming red cheeks, fanning herself with the skirt of\nher frock\u2014\"ther's goin' to be a frolic out in the woods if they can git\nthings and folks together. Take your dinner an' swings put up, an' race\nan' run, an' have a good time. I heard Mis' Eastman talkin'. It'll be\nall planned out by next Sunday an' word give out. All the boys an' girls\nan' mothers an' gran' ma'ams, and jes' to have fun all day long.\"\n\nI had heard a whisper of it, and some dissenting voices among the\nstricter ones as to whether it really was religious. Camp meetings had\nbeen held, but a picnic!\n\nAll the group of children talked at once and kept going on in a huddle\nuntil a few discovered they were in the wrong direction, and then\nthinned out reluctantly. We kept so close to Ruth that, in a manner, we\nimpelled her to turn up our street, though it looked not much more than\na lane.\n\nMother sat out on the bench in a white sort of short gown with a ruffle\nabout the neck, and a rather coarse white muslin apron, but she looked\ncool and sweet.\n\n\"Oh, Ruth,\" she exclaimed. \"I was afraid you were sick or something.\nWhat happened?\"\n\n\"Did you miss me so much? I am afraid of being a trouble sometimes,\"\nshe returned with a delicate evasion that I noticed.\n\n\"Well, you needn't be; that's some of your father's notions. An' a girl\nwithout a mother needs a lot of training, though I must say you do pick\nup things mighty easy. Oh, boys, don't eat her up jes' if you hadn't\nhad a dinner.\"\n\n\"If you poured some milk over her you could eat her up,\" said Chris,\nlaughing, \"an' some sugar on top of her head.\"\n\n\"Think of the sticky mess in my hair!\"\n\n\"Oh, but you'd jes' dissolve an' be like\u2014\" rolling his eyes about to\nassist his brain in capturing a comparison\u2014\"like a lovely pudding.\"\n\n\"What an idea!\" and Ben made a wry face.\n\n\"Bring out a stool,\" said mother. \"So M'liss Hatch comes now. Is she\ngood for anything?\"\n\n\"Yes, I like her ever so much. Aunt Becky grew very cross and she and\nfather had some words, and M'liss likes to show me about things. We have\nreal good times when I'm home from school.\"\n\nMother nodded. \"She goes home at night?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"She's got a beau. Pa'son Walker's 'visin' young people to marry, an'\nit does smart up the young fellows and keep them out of taverns. An'\nthen they get thinking 'bout a house. Well, you jes' make the most out\nof M'liss. Is your father's garden turning out much? We've had quite a\ndry spell.\"\n\n\"Father had it all wet one day. Yes, it is in good order. I hope next\nyear we'll have ever so many berries.\"\n\n\"Chicago won't ever be the garden of the Lord, but Adam an' Eve were\nturned out of that. Even a thistle wouldn't grow here unless you planted\nand watered it. What people ever see in this place to come an' settle\npasses me; an' ther's so many splendid places in the world where things\ngrow fairly wild. I don't wonder people sell out an' go away.\"\n\n\"We're going to be a big port sometime,\" I announced.\n\n\"Sho, that's the men's talk. I've heard men talk before. Where's all the\npeople comin' from, I'd like to know? To hear em brag sometimes you'd\nthink they'd be crossin' the Rocky Mountains 'cause there wasn't any\nroom on this side!\"\n\nMother threw back her head and laughed.\n\nFather was walking up the path and then she declared she must get supper.\n\n\"Oh, let me put on the dishes,\" and Ruth rose, hanging her bonnet\ncarefully on a wooden peg.\n\nFather greeted her cordially and said it had been a full month since he\nset eyes on her. We all filed indoors, even to the big tiger cat, who\nkept following Ruth about wistfully. The boys never tormented him when\nRuth was around. They came to the table with cleaner hands, and were\nmuch more mannerly, I noticed.\n\nWe had a rather jolly meal even if it was Sunday. Afterward we sung\nsome hymns. Mother was very fond of them. Then I walked home with Ruth,\nthough Ben glanced at us large-eyed and wistful.\n\n\"Were you very\u2014very much affronted?\" I asked, as we were nearing her\nhouse.\n\nShe seemed considering.\n\n\"Because,\" in a hurried voice, as if I wasn't quite sure I was\nright\u2014\"I've thought it over. I'd just as leave be a Whig as not.\"\n\n\"I shouldn't like you to quarrel with father.\"\n\n\"I'm not going to,\" I protested earnestly. \"And\u2014I want to be good\nfriends.\"\n\n\"Oh, I want us always to be good friends,\" and the strong sweetness of\nher tone enraptured me.\n\nShe held out her hand, and so we renewed our friendship.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V\n\nOF COMMON DAILY THINGS\n\n\nThe picnic was a grand event, a new sort of entertainment. Some distance\nto the southeast was the nearest real woods about us. Here and there\nwould be a belt of scrubby pines, good for little besides firewood, or\na group of cottonwood trees. But this might justly be called a forest.\n\nTree planting had aroused no especial interest except the fruit and\nshade trees in some of the newer residences. A wide clearing was\nconsidered a greater protection in the earlier days, as one could sight\nroving bands of Indians when there was nothing to shelter them.\n\nOne would have thought from the discussions that the question of\nsalvation was imperilled by this new form of dissipation. Still the day\nwas carried for it, and some of the old people and most of the provision\nwent out in great ox carts. But the children and young people did not\nmind walking and were full of spirit and eagerness.\n\nI managed to get off for half a day. Fortunately, the sun went under\na cloud now and then, for which I was thankful as I hurried along. And\nwhen I came in sight I stood still a moment with a strange awe, touched\nby the beauty of the scene. The trees had grown up tall and straight,\nwith no troublesome underbrush. The branches made arches overhead and\nwaved to and fro against the sky, that in most places had a background\nof faint gray, where darker clouds went drifting over it, or here and\nthere parted to show a rift of blue. I did not know about dryads or wood\nnymphs in those days, but the figures flitting about gave me a curious\nunreal sense, as if they could scarcely be human beings. As I came\nnearer the hum of the voices and the swish of the two swings through a\nclear path, barely escaping the rugged tree boles or a drooping branch,\nmingled with the shout of some daring boy who twisted a little and\nescaped damage.\n\nThere had been a fire built, and the uprights with the crotch were\nstanding but the crosspiece had caught the blaze at last and fallen\nexcept at one end. A heap of ashes, and charred sticks lying about the\nedge looked rather melancholy, yet I had seen the like many a time when\na band of roving Indians, tired with a long journey, had stopped to cook\na meal. There were groups of women together, some of them with babies,\nand others with their knitting, while they sang the hymns most in vogue\nat that day. One haunts me through all this lapse of time:\n\n     \"Am I a soldier of the Cross,\n       A follower of the Lamb,\n     And shall I blush to own His cause\n       Or fear to speak His name?\"\n\nand it always suggests those old pioneer missionaries of the Roman\nChurch, who braved all dangers and even death to carry the Gospel to\nthe Indians of the far west.\n\nThe children were having a grand time, as I both heard and saw, as\nI came nearer. They were playing \"tag,\" from point to point, running\nin and out in a fashion that might have designed a labyrinth, groups\nsitting on the dry leaves playing mumble peg, a few big boys outside\ntossing up pennies. Then a girl holding some of her compeers in awe with\na ghost story. What an odd, pretty picture it was!\n\n\"Oh, Norman, I was afraid you wouldn't come,\" and a gentle step ran up\nbehind me and caught my arm. I had been peering about for her.\n\n\"It is a long walk,\" I said, \"and through the heat.\"\n\n\"Yes, but it is lovely here. Oh, you'll want to sit down and rest.\"\n\n\"That ain't a bit fair, Ruth Gaynor! You'll break up the play.\"\n\n\"Here's Betty March\u2014she'll take my place.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, you're very fine going off with a boy. Betty don't know how\nto play.\"\n\n\"If it's telling riddles, I guess I do,\" rather indignantly, returned\nBetty.\n\n\"But it's guessing them.\"\n\n\"I don't believe that'll puzzle me. I've heard every riddle in Chicago.\"\n\n\"Oh! Oh!\" exclaimed a dozen voices in chorus.\n\nWe passed on.\n\n\"I've had a nice, nice time. Do you want to swing?\"\n\n\"No,\" I returned. \"Let us find a cool place and sit down.\"\n\nThere were older couples who had achieved such a search and were\nenjoying it evidently. We plunged a little deeper in the forest.\n\n\"Oh, I do love trees so much, a great woods full of them. I wish they\ngrew up all around the town.\"\n\nI was used to its barrenness, but the beauty and awe of this touched\nme. A woodpecker ran up and down a tree, surveying it with his beady\nblack eyes and drumming with his bill. Then he paused, turned his head\nthis way and that with a dainty sort of assurance, and suddenly drew a\nworm out of his snug nest and away he flew. We looked at each other and\nlaughed.\n\nThen a squirrel came scampering along and eyed us suspiciously, but as\nwe did not stir he grew braver. How pretty he was with his bushy tail\nlike a waving plume.\n\n\"Oh, I wish I had a bit of bread,\" cried Ruth, \"I have two quite tame\nones at home. They beg so prettily that I love to tease them a little,\nand sometimes I hide the bread to see them hunt for it. They have a home\nin that old gnarled tree. I found it out one time, and I was afraid the\ncat would get at them.\"\n\n\"Oh, they would fight the cat if she poked her nose in the hole.\"\n\n\"I hope they would.\"\n\nGreat black ants scurried about this way and that, listening or\nthinking, it seemed, and occasionally one dragged a burden as big as\nhimself. What queer people they were! And, later on, when I came to know\nmore about them, I was filled with a curious admiration.\n\nThe soft wind cradled in the green branches murmured its wonderful song,\nthe keynote to so many melodies. It seemed as if we had gone into some\nenchanted country.\n\n\"It is a real forest,\" she said musingly. \"And now one need not be\nafraid of Indians\u2014\" yet she peered about suspiciously.\n\n\"But there might be a bear,\" I said, teasingly.\n\n\"A bear!\" Her eyes were large with fright and she caught my arm. \"Are\nthere really bears\u2014\"\n\n\"There was one not so very long ago. He made havoc with some pigs and\nthe men turned out for a bear hunt. You see there's no hiding place for\nthem on the prairies, so he ran off into these woods, and they caught\nhim indulging in a comfortable rest. But he had sharp ears and when he\nfound he was pursued he climbed up a tree.\"\n\n\"Oh, that was bright and funny too,\" laughing.\n\n\"But a few shots dislodged him. There was quite an excitement. So we\nhad plenty of bear steak.\"\n\n\"Oh, poor fellow,\" pityingly.\n\n\"And they dressed the hide and gave it to the mayor\u2014a real native robe,\nnot quite a buffalo, though.\"\n\n\"Did any others come?\"\n\n\"To the funeral? Oh, no. He must have strayed away from his compeers.\nBut there are plenty of wolves.\"\n\n\"Yes, father killed one in the winter that was prowling round.\"\n\nShe leaned her head down on my shoulder. How lovely and peaceful it was.\nI could have drowsed off, but a voice roused me.\n\n\"Ruth, Ruth Gaynor?\" with a boyish cadence.\n\n\"Oh,\" opening her eyes, then listening. \"That's Ben's voice, isn't it?\nI promised to walk with him if he would swing the children. Can't we\nthree walk together if you are rested? And I believe I went to sleep.\nNorman, this wood is like reading beautiful poetry. Oh, do you remember\n'The Lady of the Lake'?\"\n\n\"Ruth Gaynor?\"\n\nShe gave a pretty call as we rose. Then glancing around, we started\ntoward a little opening and presently heard a crunch on the leafy turf,\nand discerned a figure going in a direction that would have taken him\nquite by us, only I called, rather against my will.\n\n\"Hello, Norme! When did you come?\" He certainly did look disappointed.\n\n\"Not long ago,\" I said. \"How splendid it all is!\"\n\n\"Well, I haven't had much of the splendor, gathering wood and waiting\non mother and the women and swinging children. You better go and do some\nof the work.\"\n\n\"Oh, I just came for pleasure. Remember, I'm in a stuffy warehouse six\ndays in the week.\"\n\n\"Well, ain't I in school an' chopping wood an' bringing water and hoeing\nweeds and busy enough, I can tell you. I'd like to be down there among\nthe boats. An' I'm tired. I've been hunting these woods all over for\nyou.\"\n\n\"Several squirrels found us and some birds came and sung to us. Well,\nlet us sit down again. Poor tired Ben!\"\n\nHer tone was very sweet with no mockery in it. Ben dropped at the foot\nof a tree and stretched himself out. What a big boy he was getting to\nbe!\n\nRuth sat down near him, I on the other side. She delicately pushed the\nhair from his warm forehead and smiled in his eyes.\n\n\"Did you swing all that little crew?\" she asked.\n\n\"Yes, and twice as many more. I think there are four hundred children\non this picnic.\"\n\n\"Half of the children in Chicago. How do you suppose we found enough\nfor them to eat?\"\n\nBen laughed with restored good nature. He was never cross long at a time.\n\nThen they began to relate the funny mishaps, and we did not lack for\nmerriment. Ruth had so many shrewd comparisons. But a group of children\nfound us out.\n\n\"They want us all to git together,\" announced a shock-headed boy. \"Mr.\nWalker's goin' to hev' a meetin'.\"\n\nThey were gathering from near and from far, like Scottish clans. Mothers\nhustled their families together. Teachers called the scholars in groups\nand made sure of their number. The baskets were put in the ox van and\nsome cushions to ease up the joints of the old ladies. The remnants of\ncake were distributed. Then Mr. Walker gave out a hymn. In those days\nthey were sung over so often, at least the favorites were, that every\none knew them by heart. With what a shout it went up there at the edge\nof the wood. Then a very earnest, thankful prayer for the pleasure of\nthe day, another hymn and the line began to form.\n\nIt had been a success to judge from the happy faces and joyous, if\ntired, voices. Plans were made for a much greater time another year.\n\nThe sun was slowly sinking into that wonderful west, and filling the sky\nwith the red gold glow of later summer. The wind breezed up and brought\nfreshness from the great lake, that now and then seemed a molten sea.\nIt stirred every pulse within me.\n\nPresently Ruth's step began to lag. It was growing dusky, and I slipped\nmy arm around her waist, sometimes almost lifting the tired little feet\noff the ground.\n\n\"I've had such a good, good time,\" she whispered, \"but the best was to\nhave you come out. Only\u2014hadn't you better let Ben walk out home with\nme?\"\n\n\"Oh, why?\" in a tone of decided objection.\n\n\"I can't just tell. It is one of the things you feel. He would like it.\nAnd you can come in to-morrow for dinner.\"\n\nThat would compensate, but there was no need and I was secretly glad.\nMr. Gaynor was there waiting for her with his mule cart, and I think\nthe weary Little Girl was satisfied.\n\nThat made a fine break in the everlasting political talk. No one was\ndreaming of Woman's Suffrage then, but the weaker sex were as strenuous\nfor their favorite as the men. For a little while they forgot even him\nand enjoyed spiritual conferences, went to prayer meetings and exchanged\nexperiences, sang hymns about their work.\n\nIt seemed to me no one was very clear about the issues. General Harrison\nwas a decided favorite, and even now it seems a matter of wonderment\nthat he did not go in by acclaim. We of the frontier had a stronger\nregard for him than the Eastern States. They were more cultivated and\nleaned to the social instead of the military aspect.\n\nThere were quarrels and not a few open brawls where pistols were used.\nThen came the great day of voting, and whiskey and betting were rampant.\nChicago had improved a little on the old time, when all letters and\nnews had been brought from Niles, Michigan, by a hardy half-breed, only\nonce a fortnight. Still, the tidings were slow in reaching us. And when\nit came\u2014Martin Van Buren was elected President of the United States of\nAmerica. There was great rejoicing among the Democrats. Bonfires were\nbuilt out on the prairies; they were forbidden in the town.\n\nIndeed, there were a number of laws termed \"The Ten Commandments,\"\nthough some of them were not kept much better than the Mosaic Code. Pigs\nwere not to wander in the streets, men were not to shoot off firearms\nin the limits, but they did. A stovepipe was not to run through a board\npartition, as if the city fathers had a premonition that fire would some\nday work a havoc. There was to be no horse racing in the streets, cards\nand dice were not to be played in taverns after ten o'clock.\n\nI was much interested to know how Mr. Gaynor would take it. He was by no\nmeans a red-hot politician, and though he had decided views he seldom\nallowed himself to wrangle, but turned off an argument with a joke or\nsome humorous comparison.\n\n\"Pity it isn't spring,\" he said dryly, \"for then we could go to work\nand be sure of a long summer. Now we will be frozen up before you know\nit. I s'pose your folks are shouting. Well go ahead and have all the\nhurrahing that you can. It's a long lane that hasn't any turning, and\nours has been pretty long. I think I see the turn four years ahead,\"\nwith a funny twinkle in his left eye.\n\n\"I don't see that the President has so much power,\" I subjoined. I\nbelonged to a debating society now, and we were discussing the affairs\nof the country. \"He _can_ veto. Then he has a cabinet to advise him\u2014\"\n\n\"Well, he doesn't when you come to that, but I observe that he has to\nshoulder the blame of an unfortunate administration. I wouldn't give a\nfig for your President, but I do hope Congress will do a little for us.\nThose Eastern fellows haven't an idea of what this section is going to\nbe. They think they have the whole Atlantic Ocean and trade, and some\nday we'll have to feed them, keep them from starving. Why, the wheat\nfields will be the wonder of the world fifty years hence.\"\n\nHe was buying prairie land and seeding it to grain, planting corn and\nfeeding pigs.\n\nI remember his telling mother one time about election cake that the\nEastern housekeepers made to treat their friends.\n\n\"'Twould take a mighty sight to go round here,\" said mother.\n\nI was amazed to see animosities settle so soon and the men who had\nthreatened to \"blow off each other's heads\" smoked the pipe of peace\naround the tavern stove. They were really country taverns, where\nneighbors came for a friendly gossip, even if they did drink a little\nwhiskey and bet on a game of cards.\n\nI think Mr. Harris was very much interested in furthering my turn for\nknowledge. He lent me books, he asked me to spend the evenings with\nhim. He had a nice cheerful room with a married sister. He had several\nvolumes of poetry that I borrowed for the Little Girl. Oh, what delight\nwe took in \"Percy's Reliques\" and some of the old ballad singers!\n\nShe grew very slowly, it seemed to me, but then we were such big\nfellows. Homer went to a carpenter to learn a trade, building being\nconsidered a very good business. He was fully as tall as I, but he had\nno especial taste for books, though he was very quick and ingenious,\nand full of fun and frolic. There were dances once a fortnight in\none of the rooms at the old fort, which was put to various uses, now\nthat the Government had removed the troops. The court was held there,\ncommissioners met to confer and ordain, pay taxes and make complaints.\nEverybody had a curious sympathetic feeling about it, as if it was in\nsome sort a monument that commemorated the massacre. For some time\nafter the treaty, when the Government purchased their lands, they\ndistributed goods to the Indians every year. This was on the prairie,\non the west side of the river, and we used to make it quite a holiday.\nThe Indians sat around in a circle with the squaws behind them. There\nwas a great pile of goods which the traders and some of the half-breeds\nbegan to distribute. At first the row of Indians was quite orderly.\nThen dissatisfaction would begin and they would rise to their knees,\ngesticulating and vociferating their mixed gibberish until it seemed\nthey might break out into open war. Then there would be a general\nscramble, the squaws throwing back articles they did not care for and\nseizing a lot, that, perhaps, gave them no greater satisfaction.\n\nThe day ended by a big fire kindled far enough from the wigwams to\nescape the danger of conflagration, and the braves would dance around\nit in a furious manner. Occasionally there were brawls for several days,\nwhich culminated in killing a number, and many of the braves would part\nwith their goods to whoever would trade whiskey for them, though this\nhad to be done underhand.\n\nAll Chicago was glad and relieved when they were removed to their\nallotment. Forty ox teams carried the children and the baggage, while\nthe braves and squaws marched leisurely, encamping for the night, and\nwere nearly a month reaching their journey's end.\n\nWe were not rid of all the Indians, however. There were some who\npreferred semi-civilization and whiskey, and not a few half-breeds whose\ndescendants were to be proud of their Indian blood in after years. There\nhad been mixed marriages, mostly French traders, with Indian wives, and\nsome of these made worthy citizens.\n\nOne of the Ottawa chiefs, who had prevented a massacre, after the\ndefeat of Mayor Stillman's force, still remained in a noted place\ncalled Shabbona's Grove. Shabbonee kept the respect and friendship of\nthe whites, and was quite a power in quelling disputes among his own\nnation. While most of the savages in our vicinity were not such as to\ninspire one with even tolerant sympathy, he was more like the heroes\nof romance that have been handed down to us from our forefathers.\nA broad-shouldered, stalwart specimen of his tribe, with a more\nintelligent face and strength of feature and character than even the\naverage.\n\nTimes were very hard and through the winter little could be doing.\nPlans there were in abundance. Men lingered in the warm shelter of the\nwarehouse and wrangled, of course. I think now it was the foreshadowing\nof \"bulls and bears\" that were to dominate the town in the years to\ncome. One party drew roseate pictures of the possibilities of the coming\nChicago. We were to be the centre of trade\u2014we were between the east\nand the west, not only that, but there was Canada and the lakes and the\nmineral wealth of upper Michigan, the boundless prairies.\n\nAnd the others sneered at the mud hole and saw dozens of ways in which\ntrade could be diverted. The canal wouldn't ever be finished, the towns\nalong the Mississippi had the start of us and would keep it. Cities\nwould spring up along its banks as if by magic. There was the gathering\ntrade centring in the mighty gulf, the outlet to France and England,\neven to the Coast States. What could we produce to compete with them!\nWould the great cities of the east be generous enough to fall back and\nbeckon us on? Trade looked out for itself first of all.\n\nI used to repeat these arguments to Mr. Gaynor. Sometimes when he wanted\nto go out of an evening he asked me to drop in so that Ruth would not\nbe left alone. The handmaid, Melissa Hatch, had married and rejoiced\nin a two-room shanty of her own, but did not disdain coming in for a\nfew hours daily and taking the rough work. They were rather gay and\nspent their evenings card playing and dancing with their neighbors.\nFiddling was a common accomplishment. The dancing was more of the jig,\nor breakdown, order. Two people would dance to each other, executing\nall sorts of fancy steps, then turn to the next couple and pair off, and\nso on until they had gone around the room. If there were not more than\nfour people they seemed to have just as merry a time. Then a little hot\nwhiskey, and to home and to bed. No midnight dissipations for them.\n\nNot that Mr. Gaynor was given to these festivities. He would go over to\nthe Tremont or to Baubein's and listen to the talk, now and then putting\nin some shrewd remark or a bit of humor, and often caught an idea that\nhe saved up for future consideration, and when the time came used it\nand made a success of it.\n\n\"All this talk doesn't bother me,\" he would say dryly. \"New land's the\nplace for fine crops. To the eastward you have to pick stones until you\nfeel as if you had a ball and chain to your leg. Land's getting worn\nout, too. Some day they'll have to come to us for bread. They can't farm\nand manufacture at the same time, and they're just besotted on building\ntowns and calling in people to work in factories. All well enough for\nthose who like it, but these people will all have to be fed and some\none will have to raise the stuff.\"\n\nHe was a typical Yankee for barter. He always had something the\nneighbors wanted, or could give assistance when it was most needed and\ntake it out in something else, for there really was no money. He raised\nexcellent stock. He looked at a thing, a pig or a pile of boards, or\neven a bit of land, squinting up one eye, and saw its good points at\nonce. And he managed to keep on the right side of every one.\n\nSo I spent half my time at the Gaynors', mother said. Dan was a gay\nyoung chap in great demand with the girls, ready for any frolic, and\nalready was the owner of a fine horse that he was very generous with\nwhen he had time to drive, and the girls were ready to tear each other\nhalf to pieces for the chance.\n\n\"I jest wish he'd settle down to one,\" mother would say complainingly.\n\"There's no look when a fellow's butterflyin' round. He ain't like a\nbee who has some sense, but jest goes from flower to flower, an' that's\nthe way with Dan. I ain't no ways anxious to have Polly Morrison for a\ndaughter, but I did settle upon it a while ago, an' now it's Betty Hale,\nbut it does seem as if some girl might catch him an' sober him down.\nHe's smart to earn, but he'll never be forehanded until some woman gets\nhold of the purse strings.\"\n\nEarly marriages were quite in vogue, the general trend of new countries.\n\nI did not have to consider the point, for twenty-one was early enough.\nAnd I was more interested in books than girls in general. I was not\nmuch of a dancer, and I think I was a little afraid of the quick,\nsaucy retorts of the girls. I liked the sledding parties in winter and\nthe skating. We even navigated about on snow shoes, and it was very\nexhilarating when there was a sharp crust frozen over the snow. On\nclear moonlight nights there was an indescribable splendor in the far\nsparkling reaches, whose only limit seemed the boundary of the blue sky,\nstudded with brilliant gems of all colors, it seemed at such times, and\nchanging, as if no settled tint predominated, as the air went waving\namong them, driving a flock here as if they were birds of mystery,\nthen confronted by some daring immovable fixed star. I used to stand in\nsilent wonder, they were so marvellous.\n\n\"And to think that heaven is behind them all,\" the Little Girl would\nsay with grave eyes.\n\nWe were a good deal troubled with wolves and now and then there was a\nregular hunt. Dan was always delighted with such adventures. Some more\nvaluable animals were captured as well.\n\nBut spring came on amain, and curiously enough, business seemed\nstirring up in spite of hard times and money disturbances. The people\nof Chicago were workers. They began to look after the streets a\nlittle, to straighten the houses that had been set in every fashion,\nand though there did not seem much of promise to call them thither,\nemigrants were arriving nearly every day in all sorts of vehicles, and\nof several nationalities. The French had quite a little settlement to\nthemselves, Germans began to look for outlying farms, some had already\nbought Government land. There were still Indian wigwams, in which squaws\nlabored and pappooses abounded.\n\nAnd though it was not a highly diversified country, and many things\nwere left for the hand of man to accomplish, still it took on a certain\nbeauty. The broad belt of timber to the west stood up sentinel like,\nto the south there were various rises of ground; there were the broad\nprairies and the magnificent lake, beginning to be dotted with vessels\nof all the rather primitive kinds. The building of the Clarissa had been\nconsidered a great achievement, and was being followed by others.\n\nGardens came out in summer bravery. Many of them were an acre or two in\nextent. Apples and plums grew readily, indeed it seemed as if plums were\nindigenous to the soil. Smaller fruits were cultivated, and all those\nnot likely to be killed with the hard cold winters.\n\nHere and there you saw prairie schooners, as they were called, with a\ndouble team of oxen lumbering along with a load of logs from some more\nfavorable point for the saw mill. Wheat fields waved in the sunshine,\nmaking billows like the sea. Cornfields green and strong shot up like\narmies. Rye and oats\u2014everything grew as if by magic. Doors were wide\nopen, and women sat spinning, or some one ran to and fro with nimble\nfeet at the big wheel.\n\nIn another house was a loom, the warping bars hung with skeins of\ncolored yarns, and the ceiling of the homely interior still ornamented\nwith the remnants of winter provender, where there had been abundant\nstoring. Children played around outside, older ones went to and from\nschool, raced about in childish games, handed down from generation to\ngeneration. A neighbor woman in a faded blue gown and sunbonnet stopped\nto gossip awhile at some one's door as to who was \"keepin' stiddy\ncomp'ny,\" who had been buying a cow or putting up a shanty, or \"dyein'\nof ther' yarn.\" Less than three quarters of a century ago they had\ndreams of greatness then, but they would have fainted to see this day.\n\nThe Little Girl had learned to spin and had a wheel. She had learned\nmany other things as well, and some of the older people thought she was\n\"fittin' to keep house a'thought any help.\" But M'liss was glad to come\nin daily, though now she brought a small bundle, rolled in an old shawl,\nwhich she generally deposited on a bench and stood a chair-back against\nit.\n\n\"I jest useter think it was orful to strap them little Injun babies\non a board an' hang 'em to a tree, but I dunno. They want ter be made\nstraight, an' fraish air is good fer 'em. I s'pose people'd think I was\norful unhuman to do it, but lawsy a' massy me, what does anything like\nthat want but jest to lay still an' grow till it gets some sense.\"\n\nRuth was not enchanted with the baby, though she berated herself for\na kind of hard-heartedness. It had a funny little face screwed up to a\npoint in the centre, with a sloping forehead and no chin to speak of,\nand it was a curious red brown.\n\n\"'Tain't no great beauty,\" M'liss admitted. \"But I never see one that\nwas. Ther's a big world fer 'em to grow good lookin' in if they hev\nthe gift, an' if they hevn't, why, they hevn't, thet's all. I can't say\nI was eszatly hankerin' fer it, but it's here, an' sent fer some wise\nperpose, mebbe.\"\n\nM'liss was very glad of the good meal and the chunk of pork or loaf of\nbread she earned. The Little Girl only went to school for half a day\nnow, she was learning so many useful things at home to make her her\nfather's housekeeper. He was always very tender to her I noticed, and\nthought her very smart.\n\nSometimes when we sat on the doorstep of an evening he would join the\ntalk. His father and grandfather had been Revolutionary patriots. He\nhad been to Boston and sailed from there to New York and back, and knew\na good deal about the geography of the Eastern States. I brought out my\nstore of knowledge, gleaned from traders who stopped at the warehouse.\nSome of the stories seemed too marvellous for belief, and now they are\ncommonplace history.\n\nThe only thing Ruth was really slow about was figures. Mr. Gaynor was\nvery quick and could not seem to understand it.\n\n\"You must learn,\" he would say. \"I may get old and lose my eyesight,\nthen you'll have to do my clerking.\"\n\nSo we used to labor with her. She knew her tables, children learned them\nperfectly in those days, but there was some little knack of applying\nthem in which she seemed deficient. And when we were alone she would\nsay:\n\n\"Oh, don't bother. Let us read. When I am grown up it will all come easy\nenough,\" and her winsome smile always persuaded me.\n\nMr. Harris had loaned me \"Pope's Iliad,\" recommended it to me, in fact.\nWhen I had gone about half through I was so enchanted that I brought it\nto her, and turned back that we might share it together. How wonderful\nit seemed to us! We took it in as every word true. These were the people\nwho lived long before America was discovered, long before William the\nNorman crossed over to Britain.\n\n\"But I do wonder if men must always fight,\" she said with a sigh.\n\nWe were at peace then except for an occasional Indian skirmish, but\nthese glowing descriptions did stir my blood.\n\nThen there was an old copy of the \"Morte d'Arthur\" that we revelled in.\nAnd there were outside enjoyments, rambles about on Sunday afternoons\nthat we did not keep as strictly as the people to the eastward. Mr.\nGaynor was full of funny stories about the old blue laws, as they were\ncalled, of having a hen put to death because she laid an egg on Sunday.\nBut one that amused us very much was the old couplet:\n\n     \"The deacon, he whipped the barrel of beer\n     Because it worked on Sunday.\"\n\nThere was some splendid birch and sassafras beer made in many families,\nand though there was a good deal of whiskey used, numbers of the best\nmen frowned on habitual drinking.\n\nOne of the great amusements on Saturday afternoon was horse racing.\nThis had to be outside the town. It created immense enthusiasm. Several\nof the young Indians owned fine horses and were proud enough of them.\nDan entered his beautiful Chita, and after some training and several\nattempts she won a race, to his great delight. We had gone out, and I\nmust say my inmost heart was stirred at the sight, but I had not thought\nthe laurel wreath would descend to us. It was a perfect ovation. And\nthat night he came home much the worse for drinking, and he and father\nhad quite a desperate quarrel.\n\n\"I should like to shoot the mare!\" declared father.\n\n\"He'd move heaven and earth to get another,\" and mother put her arm over\nfather's shoulder. \"Dan is a pretty good boy in the main, and I'm hoping\nhe will get a wife some day to steady him.\"\n\n\"Polly Morrison!\" flung out father scornfully.\n\n\"No, I hope it won't be Polly Morrison.\"\n\nPolly was a slim, lithe slip of a girl that no two people ever agreed\nabout. Her skin was of lily fairness no matter what she did. Her eyes\nwere large, and although glorious does not seem the proper adjective,\nthat is what they were. Brown, with golden lights that could flash and\nlaugh and turn so tender, you were sure they were in tears. She had a\nrather wide mouth, full of curves and dimples. The one thing that laid\nher open to criticism was her hair. Somehow red hair was not in high\nfavor, and though her admirers quarrelled about it, red it surely was,\nthe deep rich sort of mahogany red, with a gloss as if the sun shone\nupon it. There were great waves from the white parting to the coil which\ncovered the back of her head. Occasionally she shook it down, and it\nwas a glistening cloud about her, looking like something alive. She was\na harum-scarum sort of a girl, could row equal to a man, ride bareback,\nrun races, dance like a creature bewitched, go to church on Sunday and\nlook as demure as a saint.\n\nThat summer Chicago was all astir. It didn't matter to anybody whether\nMartin Van Buren was President or not. There were processions of grain\ncoming in, ox loads, precursors of trains that no one dreamed of then,\nbringing it in sheets and blankets, begged of the housewives when bags\nwere filled, and there was the crude elevator, the grain hoisted by hand\nwith block and tackle, and dumped into the hold of the big Osceola.\nTwenty-nine hundred bushels to be sent to Black Rock, New York State,\nthe beginning of the mighty contribution that was to enrich not only\nthe city, but the east as well, and in future times to stand between\nthe world and starvation.\n\nCrowds went to see it. How proud everybody was. John Gaynor rubbed his\nhands in glee.\n\n\"What did I tell you!\" he kept saying in triumph. \"This will sometime\nbe the great city of the world, and those blasted fools at Washington\ncan't see that we need anything, not even to have the canal finished.\nWell, we will surprise them yet.\"\n\nHe was not much given to swearing, though profanity seemed rather in\nthe air. The good parsons preached against it, and some of the best men\nrarely used an oath.\n\nFor days nothing was talked of but the exploit. The Osceola had gone\noff with the cheers of the crowd. But when the jubilation subsided a\nlittle, new plans were made for the elevator to use horsepower instead\nof hand, and to enlarge its capacity.\n\nCrops of all kinds had been good. The yield of corn was tremendous.\nPigs were in demand; there was plenty to fatten them. We were almost as\nlikely to have a boom in these products as there had been in real estate\na few years before.\n\nMr. Dole had been slaughtering and packing cattle of both kinds down\non Dearborn and South Water streets. The small log building where he\nfirst lived stood three doors east of the warehouse, but now he had\nbuilt a more commodious dwelling. Mr. Thompson was in his new office and\nstill busy surveying and mapping out lots, and making trades that, as\nfather said, kept the log rolling without any money. Mr. Thomas Church\nhad enlarged his store, and the women had a gala time going to see the\npretty things every few months when a new stock came in.\n\nThe older inhabitants still kept to weaving linsey woolsey and common\ngrades of woollen, as well as some of the coarser cotton cloths.\nSpinning and knitting was much in vogue, but the girls beginning to grow\nup rather protested against the labor. And the goods coming from the\nStates and abroad were so pretty and tempting. So butter and eggs were\nbartered off, strong sacking stuff, pork and woollen stockings for the\nboatmen and the voyagers.\n\nMr. Carpenter was building a fine house over on the west side and\nsetting out choice fruits that stirred others up to emulation. Then we\nhad a daily paper, the _American_ having started a precarious venture\nthat most men predicted would be a failure, and \"where could any one\nfind news enough to fill up a daily paper?\" was on the tongues of the\nobjectors. It might not have been the highest intellectual pabulum, but\nwe were not educated up to that mark, and somehow we took to the effort\nmost cordially and wondered how we could have done without it.\n\n\"You can't wash out a hankercheer now an' hang it on a bush, a'thought\neverybody knowin' it,\" grumbled Grandmother Green, \"an' I kin hear all\nthe news I want on prayer-meetin' night. I hain't got no money to go\nfoolin' round stores an' other people wouldn't 'nother if they paid\nther' just debts.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI\n\nTHEN THE UNCOMMON\n\n\nThat autumn a theatre was opened on the west side of Dearborn Street,\nover a general store, a plain, wooden building. The second floor was\nseated and a stage erected with rather crude paraphernalia. It was\ncalled the Rialto. A Mr. McKenzie was manager and stage director, and\nsome very good plays were given with William Warren, Mrs. Ingersol and\nMr. Jefferson, with little Joe in his first attempts. They had very fair\naudiences, and it was a step above the card playing. There were also\nsome lectures given, and several educational plans brought to the fore.\nIf they were to be a great city they must rouse themselves on every\nside.\n\nI went to the theatre with Ruth and Mr. Gaynor. He, it seems, had seen\nseveral plays. Ruth was curiously interested.\n\n\"Why, it is like what people say and do all the time,\" she said with a\nrather puzzled air. \"Not as funny as some of the stories they tell. And\nsomehow, you seem to lose the thread. You want to know what they did in\nbetween. I believe I'd rather read the whole story.\"\n\nI began to be curious about Shakespeare's plays, and talked them over\nwith Mr. Harris.\n\n\"Oh, if you want to read them aloud to a little girl, I will let you\nhave Charles and Mary Lamb's stories,\" he said. \"You will enjoy them\nbetter.\"\n\nAnd enjoy them we surely did.\n\nBut one night we had a great alarm. There had been occasional fires,\nstill so many of the houses being small and detached no great harm had\nbeen done. But the Tremont Hotel took fire, and though strenuous efforts\nwere made to extinguish it the men soon found their labor was in vain.\nThen the near-by houses began to go and terror filled everybody. Those\nat a distance started to carry out their choice belongings that they\nhad worked so hard to accumulate. Near-by houses were demolished in the\nhope of staying the flames.\n\nWe were safe enough, but I had some fear for the Gaynors, and ran\nover as fast as I could. The streets were packed with people pushing,\nshouting and swearing, and if noise could have deadened the flames the\nbrilliant sheets and spires would soon have turned to a dull smoke. I\npushed my way along, once encountering Dan, who struck out at me, which\nI dodged.\n\n\"You start home, youngster, 'fore you git hurt,\" he cried, but the next\nmoment I was lost in the crowd.\n\nI could not think the Gaynors were in any real danger, and they were\nnot. M'liss had run up with her baby in her arms, while her husband had\ngone to the fire, and they were standing in the small front yard.\n\n\"I declare to man! How did you get over here?\" ejaculated John Gaynor.\n\"Now that you are here I'll just take a stroll over and see the damage.\nSplendid sight, if it wasn't burning up what 'twill be hard to get\ntogether again. You can't make much out of ashes, though it's mighty\ngood for growing corn.\"\n\nRuth clung to me. We talked this night over years afterward, when we\nwere fleeing from an awesome and terrible army of flames that seemed\nbent upon our very lives.\n\n\"Will there be any one burned up?\" she asked tremulously. \"If it wasn't\nhouses, it would be magnificent.\"\n\n\"Oh, no,\" reassuringly. Then I felt I was not sure. I had not thought\nof the sacrifice of human lives.\n\nOut of the black smoke would shoot up a great spire of flame, showering\nsparks like an immense Roman candle. We knew little about fireworks\nthen, but I never see one going to pieces without recalling this scene.\nFortunately there was not much wind or all Chicago would have gone then.\n\nYou could hear the roar and the crackle and it was really frightful. She\nbegan to cry from overwrought nerves, and I tried to soothe her. M'liss\nwas full of queer comments at which I had to laugh in the midst of my\nanxiety. Then the baby woke and set up a howl.\n\nIt was after midnight when Mr. Gaynor returned. The danger of the flames\nspreading had been conquered, the brilliant blaze subdued from lack of\nfurther food on which to vent its ravenous appetite. It was now a thick\nblack smoke that penetrated everywhere.\n\n\"Well, that's something of a fire for a town like this,\" declared Mr.\nGaynor. \"Awfully unlucky, as if times were not bad enough without all\nthis loss. It will take years for the town to get over it. There's\neighteen or twenty houses burned besides the hotel.\"\n\nWe knew most of the owners, and certainly they were deserving of\nsympathy. I stayed all night and the next morning made one of the crowd\ngathered at the ruins. Seventeen buildings had been burned and there lay\na long tract of cinders and ashes. The condolence was sincere and offers\nof assistance hearty. The hotel would be rebuilt as soon as possible.\nThe courage evidenced the indomitable pluck that was to be tested more\nthan once and show an undaunted front.\n\nThe ruins would be cleared away at once. More stringent rules about\nbuildings and fires were discussed. There was a finer public spirit\nin all this. We were to be a town of note presently. The canal came up\nagain for a more earnest share of attention. Streets must be improved,\nwharfage extended, better docks built\u2014they were very crude indeed.\n\nBut winter settled in and most of the improvements had to stop. There\nwas no end of trouble about money matters. The State banks suspended\npayment. One could never tell just what the money of any other State\nwould be worth. The new President had brought no especial prosperity\nsuch as his party had predicted, and some of his warmest adherents\ndenounced him\u2014as if he alone shaped the policy of the Government.\n\nThe Little Girl and I did not meddle our heads about any of these\nthings. I could see that John Gaynor, in a certain way, was getting to\nhave quite a place in Chicago affairs as far as advice went. In other\nmatters he kept closely to his own business. He picked up pieces of\nproperty, giving oftentimes labor, or grain, or pork in exchange. Game\nwas plentiful if you went far enough for it. Often a party of men would\ngo out for a three or four days' hunt and come home laden with spoils.\nStill, there was a demand for domestic poultry and eggs, and Gaynor's\nstock of all kinds was considered first class.\n\nHe was out quite often in the evening, and I fell into the habit of\nstopping as I came from work.\n\n\"Just take a bite with us, Norman,\" he would say. \"I'm going to Green\nTree or down to Baubein's, and I'll be home by nine. But I can't leave\nRuth alone; don't know but I shall have to hire you for steady company,\"\nwith a laugh.\n\nSometimes I ran off home after that, at others remained all night.\nDan was very gay and seldom in before eleven. But as the Little Girl\nwas too young for dances or merrymakings we amused ourselves. M'liss\noccasionally added to our fun by her droll experiences and views on\neverything, in an uncouth dialect. Her granny, now near a hundred, knew\nall about the first people who came to Chicago, and M'liss sometimes was\nvery interesting, though I used to think granny must have drawn on her\nimagination for some of the tales, but they so captured Ruth's romantic\nside that I let them pass.\n\nAt other times we read and really studied about the different States.\nThe Mississippi, with DeSota, La Salle and Tonti, was a mine of treasure\nto her. Later New Orleans, with its changes of government, Napoleon's\nmarvellous history and the purchase of the West, was a great source\nof interest to us both. Mr. Harris was my mentor. Between getting and\ngiving I added much to my incomplete boyish education.\n\nBut it was not all history. Every volume of poems I met with I borrowed,\nand we read the old ones over. I think we both knew pages of \"The Lady\nof the Lake,\" our first love.\n\nOne evening an odd incident happened to me that in the beginning was\nrather a source of annoyance. I was to go to Mr. Harris's and had a\nlist of inquiries in my mind to talk over. At the side of the cheerful\nfire in the arm-chair with the high cushioned back sat a gentleman of\ndistinguished appearance that I had caught sight of in the warehouse,\na tall man with a rather spare but not thin figure, a fine face that,\nno doubt, had been handsome in youth. The forehead was high, but rather\nnarrow, the hair, that now had only a few dark threads in it, but a\ncertain silvery gloss, an aquiline nose, and the beard, snowy-white,\ntrimmed in the Van Dyck fashion. The eyes held me. They were large and\ndark, but with a kind of winning softness. The eyebrows were still dark\nand so were the long lashes.\n\n\"This is Mr. LeMoyne, Norman, and this,\" turning to the gentleman, \"is\nthe young friend I was telling you of.\"\n\nHe did not rise, but extended his hand with such a grace that I felt\nself-condemned for my discourteous thought.\n\n\"We have been talking about you,\" he began, and there was something in\nhis voice that completed his sudden ascendency over me. \"Mr. Harris\nwas saying you were much interested in New Orleans, and that you had\nnever seen any of our larger cities. I have been in that quaint southern\nFrench town for some months.\"\n\nI knew I smiled with pleasure. There was such a charm in his manner.\nBut I felt tongue-tied, abashed.\n\n\"You cannot have much of an idea of it from this place, except as Mr.\nHarris tells me that you are almost in a sea of mud except when you\nare frozen up. They have a great deal of it in the way of inundations,\nand part of the city lies very low. But there is no real winter and\neverything is abloom with roses. Such luxurious trees, indeed all kinds\nof vegetation. It is really a French city, much more so than St. Louis.\nThe States seem to have taken in almost every nation and I wonder how\nthey will assimilate them.\"\n\n\"I should like to see the year 1900,\" laughed Mr. Harris. \"We are not\nhalf through a wonderful century. It is not sixty years yet since we\nachieved our independence, a few poor struggling colonies, and already\nwe are stretching beyond the Mississippi.\n\n\"What madness took possession of France I can never understand, except\nthat she set out to rule men's religious consciences while she herself\nplunged into the depths of depravity. The Huguenots would have been a\ncrown of enlightenment to her, and she martyred them, cast them out,\nand then slowly followed the loss of all this great empire, for which\nshe had paid so much in the lives of her finest and bravest men. From\nNew Orleans to Montreal!\"\n\n\"Have you been to Canada also?\" I ventured to inquire.\n\n\"To Canada, to the cities on the Atlantic, to England, France, Holland,\nindeed as far as Moscow, Constantinople and the Mediterranean,\" and the\nsmile he gave me completed his conquest.\n\nThen we went back to New Orleans with its French, Spanish and Creoles\nliving in harmony, its odd, narrow streets, its great outlying estates,\nits sugar plantations, its bloom and beauty until my heart was aflame\nwith a desire to see it. And its antithesis was Montreal, Quebec.\n\nIt seemed to me when the clock struck nine there had never been so\nshort an hour and a half. I knew I must go, but it was as if some\ncurious power held me back, pervaded every pulse. I could believe in\nenchantment.\n\n\"I hope you have had a pleasant evening,\" said Mr. Harris at the door,\n\"and that it may lead to something more advantageous.\"\n\n\"I can't express it,\" I returned bunglingly. \"I never heard any one talk\nso delightfully before, and to think what Mr. Le Moyne must know!\"\n\nHe laughed softly.\n\nWe were very busy the next day with some accounts, and said nothing\nabout the evening until lunch time. I had brought mine. Then I heard\nthat Mr. Le Moyne was one of the partners in a large fur-trading company\nand also in the new copper mining in Northern Michigan, that was being\nrapidly developed. In his youth he had fled from France to Canada in\nthe time of the Huguenot persecution, and had become deeply interested\nin business later on. I was very enthusiastic.\n\n\"Yes, I was glad to have you see him. Such men are worth knowing.\"\n\nIt seemed quite absurd that I should ever have the opportunity of\nknowing much about him. Men of his stamp were not frequent visitors in\nour provincial town.\n\nIf I had been enraptured myself I have no word to describe Ruth's\ndelight. After all, we were very simple children, though our reading\nhad broadened our minds, and I had found before this that Mr. Gaynor,\nindifferent as he seemed to what is called culture, was a very\nwell-informed man on general topics and shrewd in his observations. I\ndid not know then that education was much more widely diffused at the\nEast.\n\nThe outcome of this was a proposal I could not have imagined. Mr. Le\nMoyne dropped in the rough little office several times and we had a few\nsuggestive talks about business which seemed rather for Mr. Harris than\nfor me. One day my father was called into council, which amazed me, for\nwhen he went out he gave me such a mysterious look.\n\n\"We'll knock off now,\" said Mr. Harris. \"There's nothing to suffer, and\nI have a plan to lay before you, an opportunity that doesn't happen more\nthan once in a lifetime, and I hope you will take it. Your father has\ngiven his consent.\"\n\nThe offer was from Mr. Le Moyne, who wanted what would be called a\nprivate secretary nowadays, perhaps a little more. With his perfect\nhealth he had been seized with a mysterious eye trouble, a dimness of\nvision that nothing could cure, but that rest and carefulness would\nassist in putting off the evil day, and that he might never be totally\nblind. He wanted a young intelligent person who would be pleased to\ntravel, who would be companionable, who could read to him, write his\nprivate letters, who was trusty, honest and reliable, and who had the\nenthusiasms of youth. He would give me a good salary and put me in the\nway of making a fortune if I stayed with him. But we would make our\nbargain first for two years.\n\nI was absolutely speechless from surprise. My brain was in a whirl. I\nwas glad to have Mr. Harris go on pointing out the advantages, though\nI am afraid I could not have told one of them afterward.\n\n\"Well?\" presently, in an inquiring tone.\n\n\"I am so confused,\" I began. \"Of course it is a splendid chance, only\nI had never thought of going away\u2014\"\n\n\"Two years soon passes, and you may come back before that. Mr. Le Moyne\nis a delightful gentleman. If I was young I'd jump at the chance. Yes,\nI suppose it is a surprise,\" with a little heartsome laugh. \"But you'll\ntake it. You see it isn't even as if your parents had no other sons.\nThere's enough of you boys to settle a town. One won't be missed.\"\n\nAh, but I knew one who would miss me.\n\nI went home in a dream. Father had been telling mother and Homer, who\nhad wrenched his ankle skating. The two boys were out snowballing.\n\n\"Well, that's equal to a lottery prize!\" declared father. \"Norme, some\nof your fine notions stand you in good stead. I've sometimes thought\nwith your mother that you should have been a girl, but now we see the\nsense of them. This Mr. Le Moyne wouldn't look at a great rough lout.\nWell, if he'd laid a hundred dollars in gold in my hand I really think\nI couldn't be gladder.\"\n\n\"It's wonderful,\" said mother in a softened tone. \"I've jawed an'\nscolded at the way you boys run through stockings an' wear out trousers,\nbut I shall be awful sorry to have you go away, only this is a chance\nout of a thousand. But you c'n write, an' two years isn't long.\"\n\n\"Well, I wish it had been me!\"\n\n\"You!\" cried mother with disdain.\n\n\"Homer's a smart lad in his way. I look for him to build up half Chicago\nbefore he dies. They're all good lads, if Dan is a bit wild.\"\n\nWe talked all the evening. Of course, there was no refusing. The next\nmorning Mr. Le Moyne came in, and I signed an agreement to stay with\nhim the two years.\n\n\"That's to tide you over the homesickness at first. I wouldn't give much\nfor a lad who wasn't a little touched by parting with his own folks.\nBut we will have some nice times together, and you'll see a good deal\nof the world. I hope you'll like me.\"\n\nLike him! If it hadn't been for the Little Girl I could have knelt at\nhis feet for very joy and gone all over the world with him.\n\nI went to supper at the Gaynors'. Ruth had been making Johnny cake, and\nit was delicious. She had some funny sayings of M'liss' to repeat, and\nwe laughed, of course.\n\n\"Now that you're here I'll go down to Baubein's and smoke an hour,\" Mr.\nGaynor exclaimed, rising from the table.\n\n\"Don't go!\" I blurted out, and I believe I was almost crying. \"I\nhave\u2014something to tell you.\"\n\n\"Nothing bad, I hope!\" He studied me curiously.\n\nI don't know how I told the story. It was all in a jumble. He looked as\nif he didn't half believe me.\n\n\"Not that tall, white-bearded Frenchman, who looks as if he had just\ncome from a King's Cabinet. Well, I swan! Norman Hayne, you're born for\nluck. Give us your hand.\"\n\nHe wrung it almost off.\n\n\"I'll sit down and hear the story over again. That Frenchman is said to\nbe worth a mint of money, and you're on the right side. You just keep\nthere, with care.\"\n\nHe made various comments as I went over the happenings. Then he seized\nhis beaver cap.\n\n\"You don't mind if I tell it?\" laughing. \"I know just how a woman feels\nwhen she's dying to retail a bit of gossip. But this is uncommon.\"\n\n\"No,\" I replied, \"I expect father's spreading it abroad.\"\n\n\"So would I if I had such a boy.\" Then he went out and slammed the door.\n\nWe stood and looked at each other. Ruth's eyes filled with tears that\nslowly rolled down her cheeks.\n\n\"Oh, Ruth, don't! don't!\" I cried, and my arms were around her. Her face\nwas buried on my breast.\n\n\"Oh, how can I let you go!\" The tender accent pierced me to the heart.\n\nIt is curious what people do in times of great emotion or anguish. She\nreleased herself presently, wiped her eyes, and said, \"We must clear\nthe table. I am glad you liked the Johnny cake.\"\n\n\"It was delicious, only I was so full of the\u2014\" the bad news, I was about\nto say, but paused.\n\n\"Of course, it is splendid, and you will see so much of the world.\nThere are so many beautiful places that we have read about. And it will\nbe\u2014Norman, you will be a gentleman. But you won't\u2014\" her voice trembled\nand broke.\n\n\"If you mean that I will not forget, you may be sure of that, and I\nshall never outgrow anything, not even dear old Chicago, even if other\ncities were paved with gold,\" I replied emphatically.\n\n\"Nothing is but the New Jerusalem,\" she said solemnly. \"Whatever\nhappens, we shall be together there.\"\n\n\"Nothing will happen. I shall come back in two years. Business may bring\nme back before that.\"\n\nWe washed the dishes and put them away. Then I stirred the fire and we\nsat down side by side. How often we had done it\u2014two years\u2014how long it\nlooked!\n\nI loved her very much. More than ever I wished she was my sister and\nthat mother could watch over her. She would gladly, I knew. A little\ngirl, barely twelve years old and not large for her age. Once or twice a\nthought crossed my mind, but when I looked at her it seemed sacrilege,\nlike pulling the bud open before it was ready to unfold. She was so\nsweet and innocent.\n\nI told her all I knew about Mr. Le Moyne, and how he had really charmed\nme. \"I should like to bring him to see you,\" I said.\n\n\"Oh, I should be so glad!\"\n\nMr. Gaynor came home, but he had not recovered from the surprise. I\nloitered awhile, but I knew my mother would be waiting for me.\n\nI was quite a hero, I found. The older men congratulated me, the boys\nenvied me. Mr. Le Moyne was very gracious and affable. He came and had\na long talk with mother and she was charmed with him. He went to the\nGaynors' with me and pronounced Mr. Gaynor shrewd and intelligent. Ruth,\nhe thought sweet and pretty, but she was very shy.\n\nOh, how quickly the time sped by. A winter journey was no light thing in\nthose days, but Mr. Le Moyne was well prepared and a seasoned traveller.\n\nThe good-bys and the good wishes were enough to start one on a\nprosperous journey. And when I glanced back I saw my mother had the\nLittle Girl by the hand. They were the two dearest souls on the earth to\nme. How would she look when I met her again? Oh, what long, long years!\nEven then I could have turned back gladly.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII\n\nFROM THE LITTLE GIRL'S SIDE\n\n\nI was so lonely after Norman went away. I suppose it had been almost\nlike having a brother. Mrs. Hayne and I went to see him start, and there\nwas quite a crowd of friends. The sun was shining as if it was a May\nday, with that curious quiver in the air, and it was truly pleasant.\nOf course, pinning our faith to the Almanac, we could safely have said\nwinter had come to an end, but in Chicago March did not mean spring.\n\nWhat a handsome face that Mr. Le Moyne had, and his voice was so sweet\nas he said, \"Never fear, he will come back safe. You may see us both\nbefore you expect it.\"\n\nI suppose that was meant for Norman's mother, but he gave me the smile\nas well.\n\n\"You had better come home with me,\" she said, still holding my hand.\n\n\"Oh, no, I can't,\" I replied. \"I am mending some bags for father. I\ncouldn't finish them yesterday.\"\n\n\"These hands are too little to sew rough bags.\"\n\n\"M'liss is going to help me.\"\n\n\"Oh, then, I suppose I must let you go. Come over to supper, won't you?\"\n\n\"I will see,\" but I felt my cheeks burn, for I really did not mean to,\nmuch as I loved her. I did not want to hear them talk about Norman and\nrejoice at his good fortune. It was good, I know, but I was not quite\nready to be glad over it. I wanted a little time to get my mind steady.\n\nM'liss had the bags strewn around and the baby in the midst of them.\nHe really was growing better looking, his chin was filling out and his\nforehead began to be a little bump that broke the smooth descent from\nthe top of his head. But it seemed as if his mouth grew wider.\n\n\"D'yr know what I've jest gone an' done? Yer pop'll scold like fire 'n'\ntow, but that ther' bag jest wasn't any bag at all but holes. 'N' I've\njest took it to mend t'others. Two patches an' that ther' little smitch\nwas all I could git out of it. Holes ginerally speaking haven't much\nsavin' grace to 'em. You jest can't convert 'em to anything.\"\n\nI looked rather askance. Bags were bags in those days.\n\n\"What yer pop wants is to git a piece o' baggin'. Marty Pettingil's\nweavin' of it. For a good strong heft o' corn er grain'll punch new\nholes in 'em quicker'n wink. En ther's somethin' 'bout puttin' new wine\nin old bottles, though I don't see jest why if you leave stoppers out.\nAny fool oughter know enough fer that. En patchin' old bags is like\ndarnin' old stockin's, tears out jest above en below an' all round.\nI put a patch on 'em now. That's an idee of my own en saves a lot o'\nstitches. Them bags is mended.\"\n\nI shook out two and laid them by. Then I brought out a wolf rug and put\nthe baby on that. He crowed a little and then returned to his former\nemployment of gnawing his fist. \"The baby is real good,\" I said. \"Does\nhe ever cry?\"\n\n\"Oh, Lord yes! But he's findin' out that it don't amount to much an'\ntimes whenst he's cross en don't have stomach ache I hit him a good\nslap, en I give him a piece o' pork rind to chaw on. It's good as a dose\no' ile.\"\n\nThere was not much science or sanitary knowledge in those days. Yet\nchildren throve and grew.\n\nI hunted up my work-box. Homer had made it, though it was Norman's gift.\nWe had pasted some bits of pretty paper in most of the compartments.\n\n\"Now you jest g'long,\" said M'liss, brandishing her formidable needle.\n\"'Tain't enny kind o' work for you, an Norme he stopped t'other night\nan' said\u2014'You jest do the hard things and chores, M'liss, to save her.\nShe ain't strong ernough to tackle 'em, an' I'll make it all straight\nwith you when I kem back.'\"\n\n\"It was so good in him to think of that!\"\n\n\"'N' if you want to work go out en hunt aiggs. Caton's folks sent over.\nTwo dozen ef you've got 'em to spare.\"\n\nI was very glad to do that. It was a mystery to our neighbors how father\ncould make hens lay in cold weather. They had a good tight house for\nthe night, and he seldom let them out until noon. We threw the corn in\non the ear, and it was quite fun to see them tumble over each other to\npick it off.\n\nI only found fourteen, but I knew there would be more by noon. How\npretty and white they were, almost like living things.\n\nI took up my knitting. Men's stockings came up over the knees then, and\nit was a good long stretch to knit the legs. M'liss had pared a great\npanful of potatoes, so I filled up the big kettle with water and swung\nit over the blaze.\n\n\"Now ef you kin find a crust o' bread\u2014I guess that youngun's hungry, en\nI don't want no growlin'.\"\n\n\"Why, he can't eat bread with no teeth!\"\n\n\"Well, he kin gnaw it, en if he thinks he's gittin' some it'll be all\nthe same.\"\n\n\"It wouldn't be for a hungry man,\" and I smiled.\n\n\"Land no! En if he takes after his father the Lord help us! Jed Hatch\nkin eat mor'n any two men I know.\"\n\nThe bags were mended and piled up in the out kitchen. M'liss cooked the\npotatoes and fried the pork while I laid the table. The baby rolled over\nasleep with his crust still in his hand and his mouth. Father came in\nand gave my cheek a soft pinch.\n\n\"I was afraid you had been crying your eyes out,\" he said. \"Brave little\ngirl, we'll miss him bad enough, but it's such a fine chance and there's\nsuch a lot of Hayne boys. Guess he's the smartest of the lot though,\nwhere books are concerned, but it isn't everybody that's wantin' book\nlearning. Why, it's said that fine old fellow Mr. Le Moyne's worth\nthousands and thousands!\"\n\n\"I've been kinder respectin' yer feelin's,\" said M'liss in a low tone\n\"en thought I wouldn't say anythin' about Norme goin' away, seein' as\nye was sich friends. Yer'll miss him jest orful, he was here so much.\"\n\nI winked hard to keep the tears back.\n\n\"Harris says they won't find another boy like him in a hurry. I don't\nknow what's got into boys nowadays, they ain't worth their salt. Seem to\nthink they were put into the world jest to loaf round. That horse-racing\nwill be the ruin of them. I'd have it stopped if I was boss.\"\n\nI didn't so much mind the talk of boys in general. Father ate a good\nhearty dinner and went off to work, pleased to find the bags mended.\nM'liss ate her dinner, fed her baby, washed the dishes and took some\npotatoes home with her, though she \"'lowed she'd stay and company me\nif she hadn't promised to rub out Mis' Crane's wash, seein' she had\nrheumatiz' and wasn't strong.\"\n\nIt was a lonely afternoon, for I was thinking of the evenings in all\nthe two years to come. If I had a sister! There were no girls near by.\nOver the other side of the river there were so many of them and they\nwere always having such good times.\n\nIt was a long, long afternoon. I fed the chickens and shut them up and\nthen cooked the supper. We were hardly through when there was a cheery\nwhistle in the outer kitchen and Ben Hayne came in.\n\n\"Mother sent me over to say she was coming this afternoon only Mis'\nCarpenter an' Mis' Wooley come a-visiting. They are there yet. I was\nkep' in school.\"\n\n\"Then you haven't had any supper. Come and have a bite, though I expect\nyou have lots of good things at home.\"\n\nPeople in those days made a great spread for company.\n\n\"Yes, and stay a bit with Ruth while I go out and smoke a pipe,\" said\nfather.\n\nBen nodded and sat down at the table.\n\n\"Ruth,\" he began, when he had demolished a big slice of bread, \"I feel\nsomehow as if there had been a funeral. I s'pose it is 'cause we know\nNorme isn't coming back in ever so long. But say, won't he have just\nthe beatinest time! We were looking up the places on the map. Norme was\nsuch a good fellow. I'm going to try to get in a store next year. Father\nsays I may.\"\n\n\"That will be a nice thing.\"\n\n\"And over here, too. Then I can drop in just as Norme used to. Mother\ndoesn't see what you're going to do alone. She'll be over to-morrow.\nWouldn't it be a great scheme for you to move?\"\n\n\"Oh, father couldn't move the ground and everything,\" I returned.\n\n\"No, I s'pose not.\" Then he laughed. \"They're going to move some ground\nthough come summer to fill up the slough. Dear me, I wish we had some\nmountains!\"\n\nI could recall some mountains in the old State we had come from, yet,\nsomehow, I had begun to love the long stretch of prairie.\n\n\"Tell me what you are learning at school,\" I said, as I was putting away\nthe supper things.\n\nHe was in full swing when there was a rap at the door. To my great\nsurprise it was Mr. Abner Harris. He greeted Ben very cordially, and\nthey began to talk about Norman at once, and what a splendid prospect\nhe had before him.\n\n\"He is worthy of it, too,\" said Mr. Harris, \"or I could not have\nrecommended him. I am about as sorry to part with him as any one. I\ndon't know when we will find such another painstaking fellow. You will\nmiss him about reading, won't you?\" turning to me, \"and I came over\nto say that if you'd like to borrow any of the books I have, you'd be\nwelcome to them. My sister is going to call on you. Why, you must get\nlonesome here with no one but your father.\"\n\n\"I've never had any one else,\" I replied, \"and everybody has been very\ngood to me.\"\n\n\"And you are your father's housekeeper?\"\n\n\"Partly a woman comes in to help.\"\n\n\"I thought you were larger, older, though I have never noticed you\nespecially. Well, some evening I'll bring my sister over. She has no\nchildren, to her great sorrow, so you must make friends.\"\n\n\"I shall be very glad to,\" I said.\n\nFather came in before he went and they had a little talk, mostly about\nthe good fortune that had befallen Norman.\n\nThen we shut up the house and went to bed. Yes, it must be something\nlike a funeral. The body went out of the house. I wondered how any one\ncould bear to have it put in the ground. Norman had read about some\ncountry\u2014I think it was Egypt\u2014where they built real houses for their dead\nand put in them the things their relatives had used while alive, painted\nand carved pictures on the walls and went in to see them now and then.\nThat seemed ever so much nicer than lowering them into the earth.\n\n\"But Norman isn't dead,\" I said to myself, \"and he surely will come\nback.\" I ran it over in my mind. Seven hundred and thirty days. Each\nday would count.\n\nI recalled the time I had first seen him and the warm welcome Mrs. Hayne\nhad given us after that long journey. That was more than four years ago,\nand then I laughed softly to myself\u2014why he would be away only half that\ntime, and the four years had not seemed long. So I dropped asleep quite\nhappy.\n\nFor some time I think I lived mostly in the past. I began to go to\nschool again. Spring came in early and everybody was astir. Indians\ncame down with pelts they had gathered through the winter and there\nwere some wigwams put up out on the prairies where they held powwows\nand dances and laid out in the sun and smoked pipes. They were a lazy\nlot and they hung around until all their money was spent. They were paid\nlargely in clothing, blankets and useful articles, but they kept trading\nthem off, and though there were some stringent rules about selling them\nany quantity of whiskey, they managed to get it all the same. Then, by\ndegrees they started off north again to join their brethren who objected\nto civilized life.\n\nBut there was quite a stationary residue. The squaws seemed to improve\nmuch faster than the braves, though they had all the hard work to do.\nThey dug up the ground and planted corn and other vegetables, they\ndressed skins and made clothing and moccasins and ornamental bead work,\nwhich they sold. Occasionally some of the traders bought a store of it\nto take to the eastward.\n\nFather kept adding to his stretch of prairie land all the time. He had\nthe true Yankee thrift as I came to know afterwards. Yet at this early\ndate Yankees were not held in very high esteem and peddlers were rather\ntabooed. Indeed, at one time there had been a license of fifty dollars\nexacted for selling wooden clocks in the whole State. The law was\nagainst \"bringing in and selling.\" But the shrewd Yankee evaded this by\nsome parties bringing them in, and quite another party selling them. So\nit was proved that neither man was amenable to the law, which presently\nfell into desuetude.\n\nThere had been another funny point in the license of Mr. Mark Baubein\nwhen his ferry was first established. He kept two racing horses and was\nvery fond of getting up a trial of speed with some of the young Indians\nwho were crazy over this amusement. So he was ordered to ferry the\ncitizens of Cook County from daylight in the morning until dark without\nstopping, and the query was whether the citizens were compelled to go\nwithout stopping.\n\nThe Tremont Hotel was being builded anew, and some of the seventeen\nhouses erected again. Much more care was taken. There seemed to be\na general awakening throughout the town. Streets were lengthened and\nWolf's Point at the junction of the two branches of the river did not\nseem near so far away.\n\nThere were public and private schools, the latter being used mostly\nfor girls. I began to make friends with them, living over the river\nand going only in pleasant weather had kept me out of their latitude\nand influence. I had been rather a shy little girl and Norman had been\ncompany enough. But I came to have a wistful sort of longing for some\nof my own kind.\n\nMrs. Hayne was very sweet and motherly. She tried to persuade father to\nmove over her side of the river. It had the most advantages, she would\nargue.\n\n\"You wait and see,\" father would reply. \"We're going to spread out, I\ncan tell you. There's room enough for two cities, and I have so much\noutlying land. I'm in for raising hogs now and I want plenty of room.\"\n\nThen he would look doubtfully at me and with a half laugh say: \"I wish\nI had two girls instead of one,\" and I wished it as well.\n\nMr. Harris brought his sister to see us. She was a Mrs. Chadwick, a\nvery sweet, quiet-looking woman, with none of the breeziness of Mrs.\nHayne. Her husband was very much interested in the government and\nimprovement of the town, and as there were no public halls the men\ngenerally gathered at some of the better class taverns and discussed\nthe public weal. Father often went, though he did not take any active\npart. Neither did Mr. Harris, for he attended closely to business and\nspent his evenings at home.\n\n\"But what does your little girl do?\" asked Mrs. Chadwick. \"Surely you\ndo not leave her alone?\"\n\n\"I'm not afraid,\" I said. \"I put up the bar and sew or read until he\ncomes home, or M'liss comes up and sometimes the boys.\"\n\n\"Abner, we must have her up with us. I have no little girls, but I think\nwe could entertain you. We have plenty of books to read.\"\n\n\"I'd be mighty glad to have you take her in hand,\" said father. \"Mrs.\nHayne's been like a mother, but you see that's a good streak off, and\nwhen she doesn't go to school it's rather lonesome.\"\n\n\"Of course you miss Norman very much,\" Mr. Harris commented, \"he was a\nnice steady fellow. Dan's smart too, but rather wild. I don't know as\nthis town is the best place to bring up boys, but still we've turned out\nsome pretty nice men. I suppose there's a time when most of them kick\nover the traces, but they get broken in when they marry.\"\n\nThere had one letter come to Mrs. Hayne from Norman. They were at\nDetroit and were going up to the Straits. He had been very busy and a\ngood deal homesick, he admitted, but he liked Mr. Le Moyne, and would\nnever be sorry that he had started out in life. There were so many\nwonderful things in the world. At the Straits he would write more at\nlength. \"Give my love to little Ruth,\" he said, \"and tell her she shall\nhave a good long letter.\"\n\nA week or so after their visit Mr. Harris came for me. It was not very\nfar. They had quite a pretty cottage and a really beautiful garden. It\nwas light enough to walk through it, and I was delighted. I had a vague\nidea that I had seen such gardens in our old State. Great bunches of\ncamomile with their snowy disks and pungent odor, sweet Williams of\nalmost every color, a tall row of hollyhocks just coming into bloom\nranged along the fence, a bed of sweet herbs, lavender, thyme, sage, and\nthere had been roses. I thought the most beautiful of all were the tall\nspikes of pure white lilies that I had never seen before, but I came\nto know afterward were annunciation lilies, and I never see the Virgin\nwith her branch of bloom but it carries me back to that evening in the\nold garden.\n\nThe house downstairs had a sitting-room, a kitchen with a sort of\nshed-room off, and a sleeping-room. The first named had a fine rag\ncarpet on the floor of Marty Pettengill's weaving and several boughten\nchairs that had come from Buffalo. Tall brass candlesticks and a pair of\ncurious bronze-like pitchers with a gay-colored band about their necks\nand an oval of a girl's face set in their sides, that always interested\nme very much; a table between the windows with a Bible and hymn book,\nand a somewhat tarnished gilt frame mirror that broadened out at the top\nwith a sort of cornice that enclosed a picture that I used to study of a\nyoung man in a boat and a girl just stepping into it. She held up a blue\ngown that was meant for silk by the shine of it, and had the daintiest\nslippered foot laced up over the instep with black cord. I admired her\nvery much at first, then I grew tired of her, for I wanted to have her\nstep into the boat and see him row away.\n\nUpstairs, where we went presently, Mr. Harris had a sleeping chamber and\nwhat we might now call a library, or a den. There was a pair of huge\nantlers over the narrow mantle that divided off the fireplace. There\nwere several guns and powder horns and some Indian trophies, and curious\nthings I knew afterward were lichens from forest trees. The chairs were\nmostly homemade, and there was a box lounge with an Indian blanket over\nit. In both corners of the chimney from there to the wall were shelves\nwith books and various curiosities from many parts of the continent.\n\n\"Here's where Norman and I sat and read after I found he had a liking\nfor books,\" Mr. Harris said. \"Books are my choicest friends. You run to\nverses, though, don't you?\" looking at me. \"I suppose that is natural\nfor girls.\"\n\n\"Well, I don't know,\" interposed Mrs. Chadwick. \"When I was a little\ngirl I just hated verses, perhaps because I was compelled to learn them\nby heart, and occasionally speak a piece for the entertainment of my\nmother's friends. Stories were considered very demoralizing and giving\nchildren and young people false views of life. We were allowed 'Rosamond\nand the Purple Jar,' on account of the fine moral.\"\n\nShe laughed softly.\n\n\"Rosamond\u2014\" I repeated doubtfully.\n\n\"Oh, haven't you ever seen that?\"\n\n\"No, ma'am,\" I admitted frankly.\n\n\"Oh, Abner, do read it to the child,\" she exclaimed smilingly.\n\nMr. Harris had lighted two candles and stood them on a stand that I\nremember was painted green, and a gay-colored mat on it.\n\nSo I heard Rosamond and her unwise choice. I had seen some glass\njars with colored liquid in them at Mr. Carpenter's drug store, but I\ncouldn't understand even then how any one could make such a sacrifice\nto possess one.\n\n\"Why, I should have found some poke berries and mashed them up and put\nsome water on them,\" I said, \"and there are dye stuffs\u2014\"\n\n\"Perhaps poke didn't grow in Rosamond's country,\" said Mrs. Chadwick\nwith a laugh.\n\n\"I'd rather had a jar of flowers, though that would not have lasted,\"\nI added as an afterthought.\n\n\"And you do not like the story?\"\n\n\"I think Rosamond was a foolish girl.\"\n\n\"So her mother thought, and she made her suffer for it\u2014learn by\nexperience, as we say.\"\n\nMr. Harris laughed heartily.\n\n\"What else did you do when you were a little girl?\" I asked with some\ncuriosity. It seems strange to one in childhood that a grown-up woman\ncould ever have been a little girl.\n\nShe had lived in Philadelphia and been one of quite a large family of\nplain Methodist people, almost as strict as Quakers. She had gone to\nWestern New York with a married sister and had met Mr. Chadwick there\nand married him, and after they had moved to Chicago her brother Abner\nhad come out. Most of the older members of the family were dead. Her\nsister lived at Ithaca now and had quite a large family, with some\ngrandchildren.\n\nI was wonderfully interested in these reminiscences; indeed, I was quite\ncaptivated by Mrs. Chadwick. She was very different from Mrs. Hayne,\nand I wondered if it was not disloyal to like her so well. I understood\nafterward that it was the difference made by education and leisure.\n\nIt was a very pleasant evening and gave me some new ideas. Mr. Harris\nbrought me home. Father had come back and was sitting on the doorstep\nsmoking his pipe.\n\n\"I was wondering if I had lost my little girl!\" he exclaimed with a\nshort half laugh. \"But I guess I should have known where to look for\nher.\"\n\n\"We shall be very glad to have her any time,\" was the response, \"and\nyou must not leave her here alone. Not that there's anything to fear,\nbut it's lonesome.\"\n\n\"I look out for that,\" and father nodded, drawing me closer to his\nknee and tightening his arm about me. We did love each other dearly,\nbut people in that day were not effusive. There was so much work to\ndo in the new countries that affection ran more to deeds than words or\ncaresses.\n\nA few days after I had my grand, glad surprise\u2014a letter from Norman.\nFrom Detroit they had gone up to Marquette on Lake Superior, where\nthere was a great deal of business to straighten out and claims to\nadjust. The world was wonderful and splendid. One hardly had any idea\nof it in Chicago, and Mr. Le Moyne was proving one of the most generous\nand charming of friends. Norman was learning French. It was almost\nuniversally used up there, and Mr. Le Moyne was a great reader of French\nliterature and knew pages of it by heart. \"I wish you could study it,\ntoo,\" he wrote, and then he gave me places to trace out on the map where\nthey had been; and there was the great Lake Superior and the Indian\ncountries, the most elegant furs one could imagine, and a variety of\nstrange and beautiful animals. The trading stations and the small towns\nwere so picturesque, the people curious indeed. Altogether it sometimes\nseemed like a dream to him, and he could not put half the wonderful\nthings in a letter. They were to return to Detroit and I was to send\na letter there and tell him all about myself, and if I missed him very\nmuch, if I took the old walks and read the old poems over, and what I\nwas learning.\n\nAt that period mails were slow and uncertain, and letters were often\nsent by friends. An appeal had been made to the general government,\nand Mr. Hogan was postmaster, combining it with some other businesses.\nThe little old place was quite a rendezvous on mail day, though no one\nwas ever certain of that even. A row of old boots nailed up for mail\nboxes created much amusement. But mere friendship letters were a rarity.\nIndeed, writing a letter was considered a great feat. If one heard from\nfriends once a year it brought content. Postage was very high, and in\nnew countries money was scarce.\n\nI labored over my letter, writing it first on various scraps of paper,\nas I could think of things I wanted to say. Books are written nowadays\nwith more ease.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII\n\nWITHOUT NORMAN\n\n\nIt seemed suddenly as if Chicago took a great leap. Perhaps the whole\ncountry was more prosperous. But everybody was full of business, and\nimmigrants were pouring in at the rate of ten a day, the newspaper\nannounced. They were of all kinds. Some from Virginia, many from the\ntwo States south of us, hardy people with an uncouth dialect and new\nways that were more or less picturesque. The men had been great hunters\nand could hardly adapt themselves to any employment at first. The women\nwere used to all kinds of household work. They hetcheled flax and it was\nvery entertaining to me to see the mass swept across the sharp wires and\nthe person drawing her body back with a monotonous croon, then starting\nforward again. The soft silvery stuff was laid in a pile by itself, and\nhow beautiful it looked. The rough and coarse strands were for common\nuses.\n\nI could spin quite well now, but I used to love to watch these other\nspinners with their deft motions. The big wheel fairly fascinated me,\nand the nimble running back and forth. The great dye tubs, too, with\ntheir yellows and browns, blues, and reds and the long hanks of yarn\nhung out in the sun, dipped over and over to darken them until they made\nsome really handsome shades.\n\nBesides these people there came quite a colony of French in our\nneighborhood. I was glad of this, though it seemed as if their \"jabber\"\nwas too intricate to be taken up by any native tongue. Their attire\nwas much more picturesque than that of the Kentucky women, and they\ndisported themselves in brighter colors. A short skirt, a bodice laced\nup both front and back, and above this a white body with sleeves,\nthe neck drawn in with a ruffle and tied with a bright ribbon. White\nstockings and low shoes with a great buckle, though some of the older\npeople had these laid by as mementoes of their younger days. The church\nwas at quite a distance and a priest came over and held service in the\nmorning for them in a little log house. I used to love to watch them\ngoing to and fro with prayer book and rosary and happy, smiling faces,\nalways chattering.\n\nThere were Germans, too. We seemed fair to be a conglomerate town. All\nalong the lake, houses were stretching up north and down to the southern\nend. The shipyard was a scene of activity; indeed, most people were very\nbusy. Wheat fields and cornfields increased and cattle were multiplying.\nEverything rushed through the summer; indeed, it seemed as though one\ncould see the corn grow; and was there ever a prettier sight than when\nit tasselled out and blossomed in the soft yellow. It was like a great\narmy. I used to look at it sometimes until I could believe it was a\ngiant host advancing, and I would shrink back in fright.\n\nWe had a school on our side that summer, and what with that and Mrs.\nChadwick, I did not go to the Haynes' as often as before. Ben and Homer\ncame over frequently. Homer was a big fellow, almost as tall as Dan,\nand quite a favorite with the girls as well. There were many pleasure\nparties for the grown-up ones\u2014rowing, when the lake was not too rough,\nand sailing parties. Some of the more venturesome ones took an excursion\nover to Black Rock.\n\nOur nearest French neighbors were the Piagets, and the two girls, Sophie\nand Nanette, soon became very friendly. Nanette was a little younger\nthan I, Sophie, nearly two years older, bright, vivacious girls, who\nhad some accomplishments beyond our ken. We sewed patchwork, but it was\ndifficult to get pieces, though now and then a quilt was made of blue\nand white. But Sophie could make fringe with an ingenious knot in it,\nand she could knit edging. That set all us girls crazy to learn.\n\nThey talked rather broken English and were very eager to perfect\nthemselves. And after screwing my courage up many degrees I confessed I\nwould like to learn French. What work we made of it, and how we laughed\nat the German tongue! You began to hear it quite often in the street.\n\nM'liss had taken up her abode with us. Jed Hatch had gone lumbering up\nthe lake, above where Milwaukee now stands, where there was some fine\ntimber that could be rafted down in auspicious weather. They had what\nwe should now call a logging camp. Father wondered how they had ever\npersuaded Jed to join them, but I think M'liss had a strong hand in it.\nSo she brought little Joe, who was now quite a respectable baby. Mrs.\nChadwick had more than once said to father some woman ought to come in\nand take charge, and M'liss thought she made a good bargain hiring out\nher house for a certain amount of repairs.\n\nM'liss brought her big wheel, the little one I had already, but when I\nwould have spun she turned me away with a gentle push and\u2014\n\n\"Oh, you jest g'lang. Ther' be time er nough nex' winter, when you can't\nrun out en play en skip round. En ther's so little work to do I'm main\nafeared I'll git rickets by so much sittin' still.\"\n\nThen M'liss was in her element cooking, and father enjoyed that.\n\nSophie was very eager to see Chicago. They had lived inland many miles\nfrom Kaskaskia, and as I came to know afterward, had a hard struggle\nwith poverty.\n\n\"I think everybody has come from somewhere else,\" she said one day, when\nI had been telling about the Haynes, the Wrights, and ourselves.\n\n\"Why, of course,\" I said, \"people don't grow in new countries like\ntrees. They have to come from somewhere else,\" and she laughed.\n\nIt was true enough. When we arrived at a time when we would have\nliked a Mayflower or a Holland Mynheer, Virginia Cavaliers, or Spanish\nDons, behold we had no ancestry that had risen out of the foam or been\ntransplanted by fabled Deity. Only sturdy, courageous, hard-working\npioneers who had seen an objective point and seized it and dreamed of\nbeing a connecting link between the East and the West and then worked\nmightily to make the dream come true.\n\nWe rambled about the old places. The Ouilmette cabin had fallen into\nruins, but the memory of the trader and his Indian wife still hung about\nit. We went over to the fort, that began to show signs of neglect. Here\nwere the unmarked graves of those who had perished and we trod softly.\nGrass and a few wild flowers were springing up over them. Mrs. Heald\nand her beautiful horse stirred Sophie as it had me.\n\n\"If you came out here and stayed until midnight, don't you suppose you\ncould see her go riding down to escape the Indians?\"\n\nI shuddered. \"I don't believe I should want to be here at midnight,\" I\nsaid, rather awestricken.\n\n\"Wouldn't you try a charm to see your future husband?\" she queried.\n\n\"I don't imagine I shall ever have a husband,\" I said, with a curious\nkind of assurance about the future. I seemed to belong altogether to\nfather.\n\n\"Oh, I wouldn't stay single for anything,\" she cried, \"and here, where\nyou don't need to have a dot, it must be easy to get a husband.\"\n\n\"A dot?\" I repeated in perplexity.\n\n\"Why, yes. In France, _Ma m\u00e8re_ had to have some money beside a string\nof gold beads and two rings and some bed and table linen. Papa's mother\nwould hardly consent then. You have to get the permission of the parents\non both sides, and then you have two marriages.\"\n\n\"How queer! Why, it is almost like buying your wife,\" I said, and I felt\nmy eyes open wide.\n\n\"And now we are poor enough,\" and she sighed. \"I don't know whether\nNanette and I could have any dot. Then you generally go in a convent\nand become a sister, but I shouldn't like to be shut up and only visit\npoor people and those in trouble. There is a convent in New Orleans and\nin Canada.\"\n\nI did not think I should like convent life either. The Piaget girls went\nto the Catholic Church in state, and the priest was Father Shoffer. It\nwas moved to the rear of St. Mary's Cathedral afterward and used as a\nschool-room, but children of all denominations went to school together.\nThe Methodist Church had been moved across the river two years before on\nscows, the first building of any account to be moved intact. Everybody\nhad thronged to see the wonderful achievement.\n\nWe used to wander by the edge of the great lake, often picking up shells\nin the sand. I had quite a collection, some beautiful ones Norman had\ngiven me. Homer had made me a box that I covered with them, arranging\nthe choicest ones on the top in a figure as near to a rose as I could\nget it.\n\nBen used to walk with us sometimes. The magnificence of the lake down\nhere, where there was no business and nothing but the swelling waves\nto ruffle its bosom, always filled me with a kind of reverent awe. The\ngreat space ending\u2014where? To my childish mind it was like the ocean that\nI had never seen. I could not truly believe there were villages and wide\nstretches of ground on the other side. I liked its immensity. Several\ntimes we had been here on a moonlight evening, when it was silvered over\nand set with tiny gems. All at the west and south stretched the dusky,\nblurring expanse, but to the eastward one could imagine that one could\nsail into the heaven that touched the farther boundary of the great\ninland sea. That wonderful angelic blue with its myriad stars! Were they\nworlds in which the souls of the redeemed lived again? I wanted to talk\nall my new thoughts over with Norman. I seemed to have acquired so many\nin this brief while.\n\nThere was another great excitement about this time. Was it really four\nyears since the last Presidential election? The town was all astir\nagain. The same candidates were put up. Dan Hayne did a good deal\nof electioneering, though it was not in such a very eager manner. I\nbelieve most of the people felt very sore about the canal that was to\nopen the Mississippi to us, which dragged along to little purpose. Then\nthe postal regulations were so inefficient, and there was a complaint\nabout many things, confusing State and general government. The Kentucky\npeople were all for General Jackson, and some of the old men declared\nthey'd vote for him as long as they lived whether he was alive or not.\nThe two papers indulged in sharp rejoinders, and occasionally stretched\nthe point of truth, at least each accused the other of doing it. Father\npinned his faith upon the American.\n\nPeople were very busy, too, with the abundant harvests. Such splendid\nyield of wheat as there had been! And to think of all this labor done\nby hand! One would have been smartly ridiculed if he had predicted the\nday of mowers and reapers and great grain elevators run by steam. Many\na moonlight night men turned out and worked until they almost dropped,\nsome did stop in their tracks and take a brief nap on a fragrant bed,\nwith the stars for watchers. For the winter was coming, when Nature took\nher rest and locked our little world with her icy chains.\n\nThere was beef and pork packed to send away, piles of hides, bushels of\ngrain, and the prominent business men left politics to care for itself\nawhile. The river and the docks were thronged and piled high, we thought\nthen. Ben was much interested in this, and now had gone in Norman's\nplace, though Mr. Hubbard's business was growing larger every year, and\nnew warehouses were pushing in.\n\nBut we children went to school, and at home followed the useful\narts\u2014spinning, sewing, knitting and cooking. We had little time for the\nfripperies of life. They were to come later.\n\nI did not forget my reading with Mrs. Chadwick, though I was growing\nvery fond of the girls and girls' play. Jed Hatch had not come back,\nso M'liss remained with us. There was a great stir about the copper\nmines in northern Michigan, and the lead at Galena. Then coal was being\ndiscovered here and there, and men's wits were put to work in inventing\nlabor-saving and money-saving machines.\n\nWe did not care much about these, though the neighbors who stopped at\nthe garden gate or sat awhile on the stoop talking to father wondered\na little if this or that could not be done, and sometimes laughed at\nfather when he predicted great things for the future of Chicago. We did\nnot look much like it in those days, though people were beginning to\nbuild brick houses and replace their old log structures with frame. Many\nof the streets were simply staked out. And when the Wrights built their\nreally pretty mansion down near what was the end of Madison Street, they\nwere laughed at as going out on the prairie.\n\nGood water seemed a serious question. There were so few springs good\nfor anything. We caught rain water in the wet season and filtered it,\nputting it in bottles for time of need, when after a good shaking up\nit answered very well. The water from the lake was fine if taken from\na little distance out or farther up. The river was simply dreadful.\n\nOne of the best springs had an odd story. The children used often\nto congregate about it and drink their fill. I used to wonder if it\ntasted as good to the stag at Monan's rill as to the thirsty children.\nIt was called Colonel Baubein's punch bowl. Half a dozen years or so\nbefore, the State ordered that the militia of Cook County should be duly\norganized, and officers elected. There was quite a rivalry, but Mr. John\nBaubein was elected over all opposition, and it was resolved to have a\nfine celebration. At the base of a small bluff the spring made a natural\nbasin. This was dammed up across the outlet and a keg of brandy poured\nin. Six dozen lemons, four packages of loaf sugar were added, and the\nwhole stirred with a new clean stick. Most of the town turned out, and\nsitting around swapped stories and drank punch until they absolutely\nlowered the novel punch bowl and went home in a high state of hilarity.\nFor days after one and another stole down, happy even in getting a taste\nof the weaker stimulant.\n\nIt was delightful water long after that, and the two Baubein brothers\nwere famous men in old Chicago.\n\nChampaign squibs and songs had a new impulse just then. Even the\nchildren who could made rhymes to the glory of Tippecanoe. And then\nthere was a sudden and well-nigh unexpected rejoicing\u2014William Henry\nHarrison gained the day by a handsome majority.\n\nFather was deeply delighted, though he did not exactly crow over his\nopponents.\n\n\"You'll see now,\" he said, \"this will be the beginning of good times.\nFour years from now you will hardly know yourselves.\" No one could have\nimagined then his reign would be so brief.\n\n\"If there could be more money, more money,\" cried everybody. The canal\nwas given up for better times, but the lake was left. And when one\nlooked over the list of enterprising citizens and found the hides and\nwheat, the corn and pork and beef, the beans, salt, the furs, and the\nlead, there was no need of feeling really discouraged. \"Rome wasn't\nbuilt in a day,\" was a favorite saying of father's.\n\nMrs. Hayne and I had good long letters from Norman. Mine were written at\nintervals and finished at Detroit, that, like some of the other towns,\nhad a rather romantic history. It had been French and English, it had\nbeen a great trading place in the pioneer days; it had been turned over\nto the United States by treaty, then given up to the English by General\nHull at the same time the order had been sent for the evacuation of Fort\nDearborn. It had been destroyed by fire and rebuilt on a more generous\nplan, and bid fair to be a fine city.\n\nBut with all these interesting matters Norman's heart did not waver,\nand he was looking steadily forward. One year was almost gone. He had\nbeen very busy and happy, had proved of great service to Mr. Le Moyne,\nand had acquired much knowledge. He could talk French quite well, and\nwas learning to read correctly. It seemed as if most of the northern\nworld was French. Now they were to go to Montreal and Quebec. Would I\nfind some histories or books and read up about those famous cities and\nthe heroes who had fought and died for them? And would I tell him all\nabout myself? Was I growing tall? And did my hair keep its beautiful\nlight tint, and he hoped I would care for my complexion. He had seen\nsome such beautiful girls, some splendid Indian maidens, so lovely he\ndid not wonder white men married them. Did Ben come often, and did I\nlike him very much? But I must not put any one in his place.\n\nHe could write ever so much more\u2014and there were pages and pages in the\nletter, but there were so many things to do, and this letter would go\nby private hands, with some other matters consigned to Newberry & Dole.\nFor postage was very high and increased with additional miles.\n\nI read it to father, and he was very much pleased, but he made one\nlittle growl. There are some voices that express disapprobation that\nway, and it is really more amusing than unkind.\n\n\"Like Ben Hayne! Why, he's nothing but a big, soft-headed boy. Homer's\nsmarter in his little finger than Ben's whole body.\"\n\n\"Ben is very nice and kind,\" I said honestly, \"but Norman is the best\nof all.\"\n\nHe gave a chuckle at that. \"You mark my words, Homer will be a rich man\nsome day. I don't know about the rolling stones, though it did seem an\nexcellent thing for Norman. But he will never come back here and settle\nin Chicago.\"\n\nLong afterward that sentence recurred to me.\n\nI took my letter over to Mrs. Hayne. Hers was a good deal on the same\nlines, only there were more to ask about. She made a different comment.\n\n\"Why shouldn't you like Ben!\" she exclaimed, rather tartly. Then as she\nlooked at me I felt hot all over. \"Ben's a nice boy an' he'll make a\nnice man if he gets the right kind of wife. He will do quite as well as\nNorman, you'll see if he doesn't. I dare say Norme will get so stuck up\nwith fine people an' talkin' French that he'll hardly look at us when\nhe gets back. I'm most sorry I consented to have him go.\"\n\n\"But he will be back in another year.\" I did not think he could change\nso very much in that time.\n\n\"Mebbe so, mebbe so,\" and she tossed her head.\n\nThere was not another girl in school who had a letter from a friend or\nwho was asked to write one. My secret was too precious to be bruited\nabroad. I put it in my box of treasures and read it over when no one was\nby. It seemed very silly to do this, and yet I took fervent pleasure in\nit.\n\nI was to write and have my letter go in a package Mr. Dole was to send.\nSo when I had it finished I went over to the warehouse, for I would not\ntrust it with Ben. I had some trouble to find Mr. Dole, and explained\nthe matter to him.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" he said, \"I shall be glad to do this for you. I think he\nwill be in Quebec before it reaches him, however.\"\n\n\"Thank you,\" I replied, with a little curtsy.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX\n\nWAS EVER LETTER HALF SO DEAR?\n\n\nHow eagerly we devoured the paper when the new President was\ninaugurated. The Whig party had a ball at the Tremont Hotel, and the\nyoung ladies who went held their heads very high for weeks. Polly\nMorrison and Peggy Garnier were the two belles. Miss Garnier was among\nthe immigrants from the border of Kentucky. Her father had taken a\ngreat interest in cattle raising and packing. There were two smaller\ngirls and a son, who certainly was a spoiled darling, even in those\ndays. Margaret Garnier was tall and really handsome. Sixteen was grown\nup at that period. She had large, beautiful black eyes, and a great\ncoil of black hair which, those who knew, said came down to her knees.\nA brunette complexion, not very dark, and color in her cheeks like an\nopening rose; by all odds, the handsomest girl in the room, it was said.\n\nBut Polly Morrison pressed her hard. She was tall and slim and with the\nlitheness of figure that made every movement fascinating. And as for her\ndancing, every man was crazy to dance with her, and when he had danced\nonce he was bewitched and bound to dance again. She must have had some\ncharm in spite of her red hair and her peculiar eyes. Her skin was very\nwhite and she rarely flushed all over her face, even when she had been\ndancing at her wildest.\n\nSome of the girls in school had sisters or brothers who were present.\nMany of the married people went as well. I sat at home and studied my\nlessons, then knit some rounds on a pair of white wool stockings for\nmyself, while M'liss told of some dances she had been to out at the old\nfort.\n\n\"An' how I could come to be sech an idjit as to marry Jed Hatch I\ncan't fer the life of me 'xplain now, 'cept what is to be will be ef it\ndoesn't come to pass in years, en ef 'tis writ down agin yer, yer can't\n'scape it. An' now he's up yander 'n I'm jest as good as a d'serted\nwife, airnin' my own livin'.\"\n\nI couldn't altogether fancy M'liss dressed up in an airy costume\ndancing. I had always thought her rather heavy footed.\n\nDan Hayne was one of the stars of the evening as well, and no one could\nhave mistrusted as he and Peggy whirled round, and I sat between the\nchimney and the light stand knitting, that we three were marked out for\na tragedy. Was it true what M'liss had said\u2014\"That what is to be will\nbe?\"\n\nThe girls discussed it eagerly at recess. Jenny Hale's sister Betty was\nat the ball and had spiced the breakfast with it.\n\n\"'Pears like them two girls were jest neck and neck for Dan Hayne, Bet\nsaid, 'n he was the han'somest feller in the room. An' Bet danced once\nwith him 'n she didn't see that he was so much eleganter than Tee Kent,\n'n she was glad she had a feller of her own. Bet's goin' to be married\nwhen Tee's house is done\u2014long in May that'll be\u2014en ther'll be some\ndancin' then, an' I'll have a sheer, you'll see!\"\n\n\"You need a little grammar more than you do dancing,\" declared Martha\nDole. \"You talk as if you had just come out of the backwoods.\"\n\n\"Oh, you think you're great, Mat Dole! You're mighty stuck up on a\nlittle.\"\n\n\"Girls, don't quarrel,\" said a soft voice, \"and it does seem as if we\nmight pay a little attention to teacher. You know she wrote out a lot\nof words the other day that she asked us to be careful about. Some of\nus do talk outlandish.\"\n\n\"I'll talk as I like. I'm way ahead of you in figurin', an' I don't\ncare a pin fer grammar. 'Twont help you keep house, 'n I'm goin' to be\nmarried first chance I have. I ain't hankerin' fer school teachin' and\nsech.\"\n\n\"What sort of rigs did they have on?\" asked another girl. \"My mother's\ngot a satiny frock all lace and white ribbons that she was married in,\nand in a year or two I'll grow in it. You'll see me dancing when the\nnext President goes in.\"\n\nThe bell rang and we filed back into school. M'liss heard about the\nball, and it was dished up at supper.\n\n\"The men had a big dinner which was quite as sensible,\" said father,\n\"except the whiskey, and if they hadn't all been of one stripe they'd\nquarrelled. Strange men don't know enough not to get drunk!\"\n\nDan Hayne was getting to be one of the young men of note\u2014born lucky,\npeople said. He was dickering in a good many things, and whatever he\ntook hold of turned out well. He traded one of his horses for some wharf\nproperty and a few weeks afterward sold that at an advance, and so with\nmost things. Chita, his beautiful mare, was the apple of his eye and\nalways won in a race. If there was a purse she captured it.\n\nA week afterward he had Miss Garnier out sleighing, for the snow was\nnot all gone. The handsomest couple in Chicago, the men said, and the\nwomen predicted it would be a match.\n\nAlas, in the midst of gayeties a great sorrow fell over the nation. The\nhero of the Indian wars, who had borne his former defeat with dignity,\nand his elevation to the highest office the nation could bestow,\nwas suddenly called away from earthly honors. The nation mourned him\nsincerely. Mr. Tyler, the Vice-President, succeeded him, according to\nthe Constitution.\n\nPerhaps the whole country emerged from a period of prostration. Chicago,\ncertainly did, and this time not to fall back into languor. The hogs\nwere finally banished from the street. There had long been an estray\npen, but it had proved no terror to evil doers. There was an attempt\nto make the streets passable, and the water question again came to the\nfore. There were some artesian wells, and some good water quite on the\noutskirts of the town. Court House Square was filled up somewhat, and\nthe questions of raising the grade of the streets was discussed, of\na water supply, of deepening the bed of the river at its outlet and\nremoving the sand bar, of new wharfs and docks to accommodate business.\nThe papers were full of plans and schemes, and the completion of the\ncanal was again strenuously advocated.\n\nFather was a good deal interested in all these matters. I used to sit\nand listen to the talk and imagine what the town would be sometime, but\nno dream ever approached the marvellous reality. Occasionally Dan would\nstop. He and father were interested in corn and cattle. He had developed\ninto a handsome fellow, but all the Haynes were good looking.\n\nQuite in the summer word came to M'liss that her husband was dead up\nin Michigan. As he had never done much toward taking care of her, even\nchild as I was, he did not seem much loss, but she took it very hard,\nand straightway endowed him with numerous virtues, and bewailed him in\ntones of anguish that really alarmed me.\n\n\"O, M'liss,\" exclaimed father, \"do use a little reason and sense. You\ntook more than half the care of him when he was home, and now for over\na year you have not had a penny from him. You can support yourself\nand your child just as well without him as with him. And if you are\nhankering for another husband, I'll hunt up two or three likely men and\ngive you your pick.\"\n\n\"It's all very well fer you to talk, Mr. Gaynor, but you only had a\nlittle gal to bring up, an' she's been the kind that doesn't jump over\nbars an' get outen the pasture. But boys is diffrunt an' mighty high\nheaded. En I'm thinkin' what I'll do whenst he grows up an' needs a\nstrong hand\u2014a man's hand. Poor fatherless lamb!\"\n\n\"He seems a pretty good kind now,\" and father gave, a dry smile.\n\"Between you and me, M'liss, I guess we can manage to bring him up and\nhave him trot in single harness. You can have a good home here as long\nas you like, so I wouldn't worry.\"\n\n\"But I've never lost a husband before, an' to have him snatched outen\nyour hand without a momen's warnin', as one may say, is very tryin'\nto nerves. An' no funeral to speak of. Mebbe not a hymn sung over him.\nEverybody's sorrows is deepest.\"\n\nFather took his hat and went out. M'liss caught up little Joe, who\nkicked and scrambled to be let down on the floor again.\n\n\"Oh, you poor lamb, you don't know what you've lost. You can never have\na nuther father. Fer if I should marry again, which the Lord forbid,\nhe'd only be a stepfather an' like as not be ugly to you.\"\n\nLittle Joe gave an expansive smile, showing his eight small white teeth,\nand pounded his mother's knee with his fist.\n\n\"I'll clear the table,\" I said, thinking to leave her to enjoy her\nsorrow.\n\n\"No, you needn't. I won't defraud any one, even if I am bowed down with\ngrief. I've got to airn my livin' an' my child's livin', fer ther's no\none to depend on now, an' I've heard say he who goes sorrowin' fills the\npools with water, er somethin' like that. No, I'll wash up. But I'd feel\na heap better ef there'd been a funeral en a farewell to the remains.\nAn' that ther' great big cimitery with hardly a livin' soul in it, where\nhe'd be doubly welcome, I know.\"\n\nShe went at the dishes, and presently began to sing,\n\n     \"Why should we mourn departed friends,\n       Or shake at death's alarms?\"\n\nThat seemed to be her favorite for days, but I wondered she did not\ncomfort herself with the remaining half of the verse.\n\nI think father felt altogether resigned to the affliction of Providence.\nM'liss was a good cook and kept the house tidy. Sometimes he thought\nI wasn't learning enough to fit me to manage a house, but there were\nso many other interests. I was working away with spirit at the French.\nI knew a good many words, and when Madame Piaget found that I really\nwanted to learn, she gave me assistance more to the point than Sophie's\ndesultory training.\n\nIt was a delightful, merry summer. Sophie knew some games and curious\nstories and was always ready for a walk, and whether I had not noted\nit before or whether civilization had induced it to compensate for the\nbarrenness, there were new wild flowers springing up here and there,\nand how magnificent the prairies were in their long reaches over to\nthe western world, to the infinite golden distances and the glittering\nsplendors of the sunset. Then when the long spires of crimson faded into\nlavender and pale pink and blue, then soft grays and darkness settled\nabout the edges, coming nearer and nearer, like some weird army with a\nsoundless step until one fairly shivered with a weird terror, and one's\nsoul was entranced.\n\nCrops were excellent. It seemed as if everything was prosperous and\npeople were full of stir and spirit and hope. We girls used to go in\ntown, as we called it. There were some stores with very pretty goods,\nand the two quite pretentious drug stores with red and blue jars. I told\nSophie about Rosamond, and we wondered how any one could be so silly as\nto make a sacrifice for a purple jar.\n\n\"I just wish I could find some little girls willing to buy them. Mother\nmakes such beautiful dyes,\" declared Sophie.\n\nMadame Piaget, later on, made quite a little money by dyeing goods.\n\nOf all the places, I liked the bookstore best. There were various\narticles besides books. Cigars, tobacco, papers from Black Rock, rather\nfrom the cities of the east. No matter if the news was a month old if\nwe had not heard it before. Father was very fond of reading about the\nadvances Boston was making.\n\n\"I wish we had a greater grasp of intelligence,\" he would say. Then with\na sigh\u2014\"But one must have food and shelter first, and a town like this\nis going to cost a mint of money before we get through. Why, they're\ntalking of raising the whole thing, so the river and the lake will\nnot overflow. Pity it's so low, and no mountains about us to cast into\nthe sea,\" with a chuckle. \"If we had had faith to move 'em, we might\ntransport some from Virginia or Tennessee, or we might find some nearer\nhome, up Michigan way, or farther west. But I'm afraid we haven't the\nfaith, so we must go at the work with good courage.\"\n\nThe Chicago River was not very wide then, but it had a considerable\ndepth. It seemed as if the earth had been split open at some time just\nas a mighty plough had turned a furrow. It had no current to speak of\nand was a source of great discomfort.\n\nIt was true Chicago did not begin intellectually. There was too much\nwork to do, and all honor to those who evolved a great city out of a\ntrading station after years of work.\n\nBut we did take note of what was going on outside. Dickens was\nattracting attention, and Mr. Harris and his sister were quite\nenthusiastic about him until he had visited America and written the\n\"Notes,\" showing up a certain uncouthness and sharpness in national\ncharacter that was very displeasing. As if England had reached her\nfull glory in a few years instead of centuries. I liked Sir Walter\nScott best, though Thackeray was much talked of. I was fond of the\nillustrations\u2014how crude we thought them twenty years afterward! There\nwas a Mr. Cooper writing Indian stories and novels of the earlier\nhistory of the country, but Boston was considered a kind of head\ncentre. And though there were such stirring episodes all up and down the\nMississippi River, the Gulf of Mexico and the islands below that, no one\nthought of putting them in print. Madame Piaget knew many stories about\nJohn Lafitte, who had once been such a terror and defied the authorities\non his curious unconquerable island. But I liked to hear how he came and\noffered his services to General Jackson when New Orleans was in danger\nby the British; and I used to wonder about the old wonderful Spanish\nFrench town, with its balconies overhung with roses that bloomed all the\nyear round, and the beautiful women sitting on them and looking down at\nthe passers-by, the streets full of bright merriment and music.\n\nChicago had begun to consider a regular water supply. The water carts\nhad been the main dependence. Now at Lake Street and Michigan Avenue\nplans were laid for a great reservoir. An iron pipe was to run out\nin the lake about a hundred and fifty feet to clear water. There was\nto be a big pump, worked by steam engines of twenty-five horsepower.\nLarge logs were bored for the water to run through. We all thought it\nwonderful then, and throngs of people crowded around on Sunday to view\nthe progress, making various amusing comments. Ten years later the work\nwas renewed on what was considered a magnificent scale, and even this\nwas presently outgrown.\n\nI was happy and busy through those years and making friends with the\ngirls, the boys as well. We all played together, rambled around, went\nto each other's houses and spent evenings in guessing riddles, telling\nstories and reciting incidents or poems. The girls joined in ball\nplaying and running races. Polly Morrison distanced all competitors,\neven the boys. I used to like to see her. She never \"wriggled,\" nor\nthrew out her arms like sails, but seemed to cut the air in a straight\nline. It was like the flying of a bird.\n\nThere was no end of guesses that summer, I think bets as well, as to\nwhich of the girls would capture Dan Hayne. Miss Garnier held her head\nvery high. Peggy was daring and lawless. She had no end of admirers and\nthe young fellows almost fought for her. But she had some art to keep\nthem from coming to blows. They always had a good time where she was,\nand a dull time without her.\n\nI had two staunch friends that I dealt around to the girls I liked the\nbest\u2014Homer and Ben Hayne. I was too young to think of lovers. They were\nboth very good to me. Homer was doing finely and his father was proud\nof him. Building was no high art in those days, but Homer possessed\na certain attractive ingenuity. He could make a closet that had an\nornamental air. He could put up a shelf and tack a bit of moulding on\nit and it set off the corner or the vacant space. He made an ingenious\nchair held by strong oak pins, that you could let down and transform\ninto a bed. He designed such dainty mouldings with his array of beading\nplanes. His charm was that he finished everything so exquisitely.\n\nHe had his heart set on making money. He meant to be \"well to do.\" What\na small sum then seemed to be a fortune. Father liked him very much and\noften advised him.\n\nBen had less originality and aim. On the booky side we agreed very\nwell, but he had not the breadth nor quickness of Norman. When I bade\nhim pause at some delightful thought that one wanted to linger over he\nwould glance up with a smile of unreasoning obedience. Everything I did\nand said was just right. He was a nice, steady, business fellow, but\nMr. Harris admitted that Norman was worth two of him.\n\nMrs. Hayne was always sweet and motherly to me, but she was growing\nstouter and less energetic, though she kept her passion for cooking.\n\n\"If I had you down to the hotel!\" Clement Ward used to say. \"Though I\nd'now, you cook so all fired tasty an' temptin' that I might be et out\nof house an' home afore I knew jest what was the matter. There's no one\nin fifty mile that can give jest the flavoracity to victuals that you\ndo. When I've et a meal here the taste stays in my mouth fer days. An\nsech pie crust!\"\n\n\"Well, I've been cooking for men and boys all my life, afore I was\nmarried and since. An' Dan an' his father are powerful eaters. So\n'twould be a poor story if I couldn't hit it jest right.\"\n\nThere was always plenty to cook, meat and game and several fine kinds\nof fish.\n\nThen the day when the mail steamer came in was beginning to be one of\nexpectation. I did not care for the ones that came down the lake, though\nthey often brought valuable mail, but this came from the East. I had\nlooked for a letter such a long while, it seemed to me, and early as I\nwas the long line appalled me.\n\n\"You're John Gaynor's little girl!\" said a friendly voice as I was\npeering about. \"Come here, I'll make a little room, and he thrust out\nhis arm, drawing me into the line just before him. \"Father got any folks\nin York State?\"\n\n\"No, but a letter may come from Canada.\"\n\n\"Whew!\" he ejaculated. \"Let me see\u2014G\u2014 isn't it?\"\n\nThey were sorting letters in the small room, and laying the piles on\nthe floor.\n\n\"Denby,\" said my friend, \"and John Gaynor.\"\n\n\"Here's a Gaynor, but it's a woman. Oh, yes, care of John, twenty cents\npostage.\"\n\nYou could not always pay postage through and no one made it a matter of\ncompliment in those days. I had a quarter and some pennies beside.\n\n\"Here, I'll make change,\" he said, and I thanked him most sincerely.\nHe smiled and nodded as I stepped out of the line and ran swiftly home.\nNorman had said the next letter would be all to myself.\n\nIt went in the great fire with hundreds of other choice treasures, but\noh, what a delight it was to me! I had looked at the flag token in the\nmorning, so I had not gone to school. Joe was playing about the door\nstep, emulating the old monarch by eating grass. M'liss was washing out\nunder the apple-tree, so I slipped into the room and threw my sunbonnet\non the floor.\n\nThere were no envelopes, no dainty sheets of paper. This was \"foolscap,\"\nwritten on three sides, and little spaces rescued on the fourth. Ah!\nwhat a delight it was. So much about the historic old city, the French\nresidents, the English officers, the government and business, the\npicturesque houses with their pathetic stories. Norman could talk French\nalmost like a native. And the business! Chicago would be amazed at the\nvolume of it.\n\nThere was a great deal about Mr. Le Moyne, his kindly care, \"almost\nas if I was a son,\" was the eager confession. The journeys they were\ntaking about, the friends Mr. Le Moyne met, the charming and cultivated\nwomen, who played the piano and sang in the most delightful manner.\nIt was like living in a story book. And he had to go everywhere, to do\nalmost everything for Mr. Le Moyne, whose eyesight was poorer than ever.\nPresently when the business was all finished they would go to New York.\nAnd then he hoped to be able to come home. It seemed almost a lifetime\nto him.\n\n\"You are such a dear, sweet letter writer,\" he said. \"The boys only send\nmessages by mother, and she hasn't the fashion of telling me all the\nlittle things about them that you do. You picture everything so that\nI can see it. Mr. Harris writes about business and books, and what the\n_American_ and what the _Democrat_ says, and the squabbles of the city\ngovernment. But I like to go down to the very heart of things, to know\nwhen you have a new frock, and the little companies you attended, and\nthe plays and the walks, and the new wild flowers you have found. Is\nthere any place like the boyhood home, any other little girl like you?\nNot if I should search the world over.\n\n\"I have been reading some wonderful plays by Shakespeare. Mr. Harris\nhas a copy, I know. Ask him to let you see 'Midsummer Night's Dream.'\nWe went to a theatre here in Quebec and saw it played. I can't tell why,\nbut I thought of you all the time. 'If she were here, if she were here,'\nI kept saying to every turn. It was enchanting. I cannot do it any\njustice in a letter, and I have written so much already. Oh, why can't\npeople talk through space? I sometimes send messages on the wind\u2014do\nyou get them, dear? Send me back some. And\u2014can you believe at Christmas\nor thereabout I shall see you? I measure six feet now, and sometimes I\nthink I begin to look like Dan, only I shall never be as handsome. Tell\nme all about his girls. It's high time he was married.\"\n\nIt was written very closely, and oh, what a delight it was! I sat there\nall of a tremble hugging it to my heart. Joe was hammering on the steps\nwith the new potato masher that Homer had made, and I never heard him.\nM'liss came in wringing her hands as if she was squeezing the suds out\nof them.\n\n\"Fer the land sakes! Haven't you done a bit about dinner? I see you come\nin, an' sez I, 'She'll peel the 'taters sure,' an' here you're sittin'\ncalm as if dinners come to hand already cooked. Ye might as well bin in\nschool, then I'd a-knowed jest what to do.\"\n\n\"I'm sorry,\" I said penitently. \"But I had such a splendid long letter\nfrom Norman.\" Then I jumped up and there was a sound like a pistol. A\ncontinual dripping will wear away a stone saith the adage\u2014the steady\npounding on the stone had split my masher.\n\n\"Drat that young un!\" M'liss gave him two or three slaps, and the roar\nof little Joe was terrific.\n\n\"Oh don't!\" I cried, and went to comfort him.\n\n\"You'll jes' spile that fatherless child, who'll need a man to govern\nhim 'fore long, he's that deestructive. You goin' to peel the 'taters\nor me?\"\n\nI smiled at the question, but went for the potatoes, and soon had them\nover the fire.\n\n\"Ther's beans to heat up, an' that ther huckleberry puddin' to steam\nover. People can't have much to do whenst they write letters so long it\ntakes a whole mornin' to read 'em. I've got the clothes to hang up.\"\n\nJoe had rolled over on the grass and was trying to catch \"hoppers,\"\nlaughing at the way they eluded him. I set the table, brought out the\nboiled ham and sliced it, and when father came in everything was ready.\n\nHe was intensely interested in the letter.\n\n\"I do wonder how Chicago will look to him after all the fine cities\nhe's seen. I sometimes think I was a fool to come out here. Then when I\nsee the wheat standing so thick with great golden heads, and the corn\nrushing along like a regiment, and the pigs fattening, and the hens\nlaying eggs, I say it's about as good a country as the Lord has made\nanywhere. Only if he'd raised the ground a little higher just around\n'twould a been more to my liking, and there are plenty of mountains that\ncould have spared a slice off of them.\"\n\nI went over to the Haynes' in the afternoon. Mother Haynes's letter had\ncome too. She was beginning to have trouble with her eyesight, and her\nspectacles didn't seem to fit rightly. So she was glad to have me read\nit aloud to her. Mr. Le Moyne had raised Norman's salary, and said he\nwould never be able to spare him. And Norman was very happy, only he did\nwant to see all the home folks. Did father keep well, and was little\nChris growing? Why didn't some of the boys write to him? With all the\npleasure and the business it was hard to be away from everybody.\n\n\"Harder for him than for us,\" and the mother sighed.\n\nI read her my letter except some paragraphs that had a kind of sacred\nfeeling to me, though there was nothing very secret in them.\n\nAnd if we could see him by Christmas!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X\n\nA WILD RIDE\n\n\nIt was truly a gay summer for the grown-ups. There were rowing parties\non the lake, and picnics came quite in vogue. Dan Hayne was doing a\nlittle of everything, buying and selling lots, interested in lead, in\ncattle, taking short journeys here and there to view coming prospects.\nWithal he found time for girls, went to dances, drove them out, and just\nwhen some one thought him caught, he was off with the old fancy.\n\nMiss Garnier seemed to like him very much, or was it the spirit\nof coquetry? For in August a young Kentuckian of one of the first\nfamilies suddenly appeared on the scene, and then it was said they\nhad been lovers and quarrelled, and now made up again. A date was set\nfor a speedy marriage in St. James' Church, to the great surprise of\neverybody.\n\nHow would Dan Hayne take it?\n\nHe took it with a jaunty indifference, and not only went to the wedding,\nbut led the procession that saw the bride start on her journey to her\nnew home.\n\n\"She was an awful flirt,\" declared Polly Morrison, \"but I knew he didn't\nmean to marry her.\"\n\nEven Polly held her head quite high in those days, and seemed to take\npleasure in parading her numerous admirers.\n\nThe school girls were playing under a group of cottonwood trees one\nafternoon, when Polly and two or three of the older ones paused and\njoined the merriment. Sophie Piaget was telling charms. They should have\ngone out on St. John's night and walked three times around the church.\nOn the way home you would hear a name called, and that would be the\nname of your future husband. Then you counted nine stars nine nights\nin succession, and you were sure to marry the first man you shook hands\nwith.\n\n\"But what if you didn't like him, or if he was married,\" suggested some\none.\n\n\"Then you mustn't shake hands with him,\" laughed Polly. \"Save your shake\nfor some one you do like.\"\n\n\"Oh, let's go out and get Shubenca to tell our fortunes.\"\n\nThey all rose in eagerness. Shubenca was an old Indian woman who did\npredict remarkable events, and they sometimes came true.\n\nIt was not far to the tepee, though two or three girls suggested it\nmight be better to go home and help get supper.\n\n\"Will you have _your_ fortune told?\" Several of the girls were hanging\non Polly.\n\n\"Yes, first of all, I've a silver shilling to cross her hand, so it's\nsure to come true.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear, but will we have to pay?\" exclaimed a chorus in vexation of\nspirit.\n\n\"I'll make her tell a lot for the shilling.\" Polly was in high spirits\nand a generous mood.\n\nWe found Shubenca sitting by the side of the tepee, thumbing a pack of\ncards. She gave a careless nod and went on. Polly stated the purport\nof the visit and displayed the shilling. The black eyes snapped with\ndesire.\n\n\"How many?\" in her guttural tone.\n\n\"Let me see\u2014Sophy and you, Letty, and Caroline\u2014well, say six.\"\n\nThe woman shook her head. \"Too little, too little,\" she said with a\nfrown.\n\n\"Oh, very well. I can tell the fortunes myself for nothing,\" and Polly\nturned with a toss of the head.\n\nThe woman caught her skirt.\n\n\"Three,\" she said\u2014\"three,\" in an eager voice.\n\n\"No, six,\" in a decisive tone.\n\n\"Too much for the money.\"\n\nPolly threw it from hand to hand, catching it in a tempting manner.\n\n\"Well, well,\" with a reluctant grunt. \"You first?\" giving her a piercing\nglance.\n\n\"Yes, so the others can take courage.\"\n\nShe looked at her hand and nodded curiously.\n\n\"You get your heart's desire after a long while,\" she said in her broken\nEnglish. \"You want it very much, but you go past it and then sorrow.\nA fair girl picks up what you have thrown away, and you hate her.\" How\nthe eyes gleamed! It made me shudder.\n\nI had gone past the old woman to where a younger one sat doing some bead\nwork. Little ones played about in their noiseless fashion. I caught\nsentences at intervals. She would have two husbands and journeys, go\naway and come back, and meet the man she loved and be happy with him.\n\"He throw away the fair one for you\u2014she too pale, too thin, she not love\nenough.\"\n\n\"Well, so that I get him at last.\"\n\n\"You be wild for very joy.\"\n\n\"Yes, that is good. That is what I like.\"\n\nSophie Piaget came next. A husband of course. First she thinks she\ncannot have him, for he love another, then \"it is not love, no, no!\"\nshaking her head.\n\nSome one came galloping over the stubble, and we all knew the horse and\nrider. He reined up suddenly. Polly nodded indifferently.\n\n\"You promised me a ride on Chita,\" began Nannie Piaget, patting the\nbeautiful creature, who tossed her head gayly.\n\n\"Did I? Well, now is a good time. Can you jump up? And you won't squeal\nfor fright? If you do I shall let you drop.\"\n\n\"Oh, are you in earnest?\" in a delighted tone.\n\n\"To be sure. Now\u2014step on my foot and spring.\"\n\nThat was successfully achieved. He settled her in front of him, put\none arm around her, and off they sped. What a beautiful sight she was,\nand her rider sat her proudly. They appeared smaller and smaller as\nwe watched them. I had lost interest in the fortune telling. Then the\nmoving speck grew larger, and they came in sight again until Chita\ntrotted up to the throng with what seemed a laugh in her eye.\n\n\"Oh, that's splendid! It's like going on the wings of the wind.\"\n\nSurely it was. I had watched them until it stirred every pulse within\nme. Chita seemed human in her enjoyment.\n\nOld Shubenca's inspiration seemed to give out, though she eyed Polly\nsuspiciously. The last two fortunes might have pleased little girls.\nThey were of new frocks and surprises, and a great pleasure coming this\nway, and some one who cared for you, listened to with girlish giggles.\n\nDan set down Letty Dole, who was profuse in her expressions of delight.\nI don't know whether I looked wistful. I wanted to hug Chita and she\nturned and put her nose in my hand. What mystery was there in her eyes?\n\n\"We must all go home,\" began Polly, peremptorily, turning the girls in\na kind of squad.\n\n\"Here's one who has not ridden Chita, nor any other creature, I\nthink\u2014this little Gaynor girl.\"\n\n\"It's too late, Dan. And then she's such a timid little thing. No, let\nher alone.\"\n\n\"It's time she had some courage put in her then,\" and he laughed gayly.\n\nI was not a coward. I often ran over the wretched bridges when the logs\ntilted so that you were in danger of falling in. And I really was not\nafraid of ghosts nor cows, not even mice.\n\n\"No, no. Let her alone. Come, children. Come, Ruth.\"\n\nDan Hayne was fond of having his own way, and crossing other people's\nwills. There was an imperious note in Polly's tone. How it happened in\nan instant no one perhaps could have told. I turned, Chita backed a step\nor two, and then a strong arm caught me just above the waist line, and\nI was whirled up on Chita's back in front of Dan.\n\n\"Oh, don't, don't!\" I cried.\n\n\"Dan, put her down!\" commanded Polly.\n\nThe only reply was a gay laugh as we bounded away. Dan slackened a\nmoment and settled me, holding one arm tight about me, and then we went\non that loping gait that seems like the motion of long swells. It almost\ntook my breath away.\n\nThe sun had set in vague levels of dun, purple clouds, now making a\ngradual darkening of the atmosphere, though it did not betoken any\ncoming storm. All about was softened, not like a fog, but a tenuous\nveil. The stubble stretched out like a sea, and seemed to light the\npath, but presently we came to the coarse prairie grass, at which Chita\ngave a snort of disdain. On and on we flew. It was unlike anything\nin my narrow experience. I had no thought, no care, no fear, it was\nexhilarating, fascinating. Were we riding into the night and the\nunknown? For the pale yellow edges of the level bars had vanished, it\nwas all smooth darkness over to the westward. And then a narrow golden\ncrescent hung out in the sky. All the eastward was growing bluer with\nthe suggestion of infinite space.\n\nIt was afterward, many a time, that I recalled this wild ride, the weird\nloneliness, the penetrating silence in which one feels what bated breath\nmeans.\n\n\"So, girlie, so,\" said a soft voice that recalled Norman, and Chita\nslackened her pace, came to a standstill.\n\n\"Are you afraid?\" He almost pressed the breath out of me.\n\nThere was a cry of some wild animal. It seemed to smite the night like\nblows, growing fainter at the end, but I shivered.\n\nDan drew me up closer. I could feel his heart beat against my back.\n\n\"No, I am not afraid.\" Somehow I was not with him.\n\n\"Well, you _are_ plucky,\" with an oath. \"And you don't even want to\nscream?\"\n\n\"Why\u2014no,\" yet I was confused and bewildered.\n\n\"Suppose I dropped you down here and rode off?\"\n\n\"But you wouldn't,\" I returned confidently.\n\nHe gave me still a tighter squeeze. \"No, I might murder the man I hated\nin hot blood, but I couldn't be cruel to a kitten if it was entrusted\nto my care.\"\n\n\"Oh, Dan, you could do a worse thing than leave me there on the lonely\nprairie to perish. But I like to think that you did not dream of it\nthen.\"\n\n\"Now, Chita, take it easy. This little girl isn't any more afraid of\nthe dark than you.\"\n\nChita gave an answering whinny. We turned toward the east, where the\nstars were faintly stealing through the space that seemed tintless at\nfirst and then grew bluer. How curiously timid they seemed, how they\nblossomed out in amber and opal and chrysoprase. Afterward I came to\nknow their names, their path to the summit of glory and their decline,\nto wander for years, perhaps, and then reign again in new effulgence.\n\nI was almost sorry to come back to sordid civilization, crooked streets\nand mean houses and dark ways. Taverns and hotels hung out lights; the\nrest of the town was buried in darkness. Here and there some one had\nraised a sidewalk; you went up two or three steps and then went down\nagain. But there was often a candle burning in a window.\n\nFather was pacing up and down the path. We had a front fence now to keep\nout strays, though we could drive them to the pen.\n\n\"I began to think you were never coming back. Nanny Piaget came and told\nme. Dan Hayne, you must have been struck in a new spot, gallivantin' a\nlot of young ones round; and you so choice of that mare you hardly let\na stray hand touch her. She's splendid, but my advice to you is to give\nup racing and all that and settle down, marry and have young ones of\nyour own; but I'll venture a five months' shoot you won't be careering\nround prairies half the night with them. Ruth, ain't you going to light\nand let Dan go home?\"\n\nI held out my arms to father. Dan bent over and kissed me on the mouth,\nthen handed me down.\n\n\"Gaynor, I think you're long headed buying all prairie land,\" he said.\n\"It'll be a fortune for the Little Girl some day.\"\n\n\"Meanwhile it'll raise corn and feed hogs,\" father said with a chuckle.\n\"Ruth, ain't you going to give a word of thanks for your safe return?\nWhy Dan might have broken both your necks.\"\n\n\"Dan ain't that kind,\" laughed the young fellow in his proud strength.\n\"Good-night, little one. John, I wish you'd go down to the Wabash with\nme and look at some cattle\u2014say, in about ten days.\"\n\n\"I'll see,\" returned father.\n\nI felt stiff and strange, as if I must walk on a sort of gallop and had\nno strength to do it. M'liss was all curiosity and insisted that we must\nhave gone to the end of the world, and the supper was cold and not fit\nto eat because she had \"het it over and over.\"\n\nI did not want much and went to bed very soon. I still felt bewitched.\n\nWe all talked of our rides the next day at school, and thought Chita\nthe most splendid horse in Chicago.\n\nAfter Sunday School Polly Morrison came over with a curious glitter in\nher eyes and snatched at my hand.\n\n\"That was a pretty caper you cut up with Dan Hayne!\" she said in a\nsharp, angry tone. \"If you begin this way you'll be the talk of the town\nin a year or two.\"\n\n\"I didn't want to go at first,\" I answered rather resentfully. \"But then\nit was splendid.\"\n\n\"My advice to you is to keep out of Dan Hayne's way. Still, you're\nnothing but a chit! Set your cap for Homer or Ben.\"\n\n\"I don't want to set it for anybody,\" I returned, jerking my arm away.\n\nOne confessed to liking boys, and boys and girls played together, but\nlovers were quite different, not to be expected until you were grown\nup, and most of the courtships were very pronounced and rather brief.\nIt was a sort of settled matter that Dan and Polly, who were unlike\nthe average, would make a match some day. They sparred, and, like the\nsmaller children, \"made up,\" danced, went out riding\u2014she had a saddle\nhorse\u2014and then for weeks tossed their heads loftily at each other. He\nwent off down the Wabash and then to Cahokia, but Polly did not lack\nfor attendants.\n\nHow busy the town seemed. Now the canal started afresh. Some of the old\nindebtedness was wiped out. The land along the border was sold in plots,\nand men set to work on a new basis. To hear them talk, it sounded as if\nvalues increased daily.\n\nSophie Piaget and I became very dear friends. I am not sure but I ought\nto include Homer. If he came to our house first we walked down to the\nPiagets; if Sophie came up we spent the evening in some simple games.\nNeither she nor Homer cared much for books. But she was very industrious\nand handy, with a certain French ingenuity, I suppose I ought to\ncall it. She and her mother did fine dyeing and they made over gowns,\nor indeed concocted new ones. Sophie could tie a bow to perfection,\nstraighten out crumpled artificial flowers, and give them a touch of\nfresh color that made them blossom anew. She really had the beautiful\nside of an artist without the intellectuality. But new countries have\nlittle demand for this. The fine arts came later.\n\nThere was a long pleasant fall. Business was thriving. Father built\ntwo new rooms on the house. We were beginning to have parlors, though\nthe old-fashioned keeping room, where you sit and work and talk to\nyour friends, the spinning wheel in one corner, the dresser with its\ndrawers holding table linen, the shelves above for the best dishes, the\ncommodious settle and the Boston rocker, hold a charm that modern rooms\ncannot give, for they had the heart of family life.\n\nThe winter brought great changes to me, set my life in a different key,\nthe octave above childhood, girlhood, before the woman begins to unfold.\nI had been undersized, a truly little girl. Now I suddenly shot up like\na sapling, not particularly thin, but slim, and outgrew all my skirts.\nI felt very, very sorry. I did not want to be grown up.\n\nSophie was delighted. Nanette kept pace with me. So did Letty Dole and\nBessy Hale. We were not going to school. Fourteen was considered old\nenough to begin the real work of life. I was not quite that, but the\nhouse seemed to demand me. For M'liss, with all her sorrow of widowhood,\nhad consoled herself and was to give her boy the strong hand to guide\nhim through perilous ways. On the other side, she was to undertake two\ngirls, six and eight. Mr. Weaver had a farm down south branch, kept cows\nand supplied people with milk.\n\nI was very sorry to have her go. I had grown fond of the baby, who was\na great chatterbox and extremely funny little chap, and M'liss was an\nexcellent cook, good and strong, and housework was hard for girls and\nwomen in those days.\n\nThere was all the new part to clean and set to rights. We had a fine\nwhitewashed wall and a thick soft rag carpet. My chamber opened on this\nroom as well as father's. Then there was a big room upstairs that we\ndid not need at present.\n\nM'liss was married in the morning and went to her new home at once. We\nboth cried at the parting, for we were to be nearly two miles apart.\n\n\"I don't mind anything so much as that,\" she said. \"If I could run\nin every day or two and cook a meal for you. I don't believe that old\nJolette will be worth her salt, and you've studied books so much that\nI am afraid your poor father'll starve.\"\n\nJolette was not so very old, perhaps forty, of rather mixed Indian and\nnegro extraction, quite tattooed by the Indians. She had come up from\nVincennes some years before, and had three children, who were bound out\nin various families.\n\n\"She'll do for the present,\" said father. \"But I'd like to have some\nnice kind of white woman who could be motherly, and know what was\nfitting for a girl.\"\n\nFather kept a boy now, a rather loutish young lad, just the kind to do\nthe rough work, chop wood and feed the stock. Andy always came for me\nwith a lantern if I was out in the evening where the Hayne boys could\nnot see me home.\n\nAll the fall I had one happy thought in my mind\u2014Norman would be home\nwhen the winter broke up. They had gone to New York, and were to visit\nWashington. Mr. Le Moyne was deeply interested in some trade relations\nthat he expected to lay before the governing powers at Washington.\nNorman was delighted. To see the President and both houses of Congress\nwas beyond his wildest dream.\n\nThere was quite a merry making at Christmas. March or before, Norman had\nsaid. And now what with railroads coming to the fore and stage coaches,\njourneys were more readily made, and letters reached one oftener.\n\nThen came the heart-breaking tidings. A long letter beginning so\nbravely. New York had proved very interesting with its landmarks of\nearlier times and its peculiar location. Washington had still many\nsigns of newness. It had not grown by accretion, but been planned at\nonce, and all the plans had not been executed as yet. But the capital\nand the White House were superb. And the great squares that were to\nbe embellished in the future, the historic points, the adornments\nprogressing slowly, the Senate Chamber and House of Representatives,\nand the great men of that day were vividly described.\n\nAnd then the change in all Norman's plans, the parting for years instead\nof the happy meeting.\n\nMr. Le Moyne was going to France, charged with some quite important and\nextensive trade matters that he understood thoroughly, and that might\nlead to advantageous relations. That was sort of _sub rosa_ not to\nbe generally announced. An intelligent secretary might perhaps do the\nwork, but Mr. Le Moyne needed more than this. His eyesight was failing\nfast with some obscure trouble that did not in the least affect their\nappearance. He had written to an eminent surgeon at Paris, who held out\nsome hope of help. At New York the leading doctors had said there was\nno possibility of arresting total blindness. Mr. Le Moyne was still in\nthe prime of middle life, and this verdict was appalling.\n\nAnd now he really could not do without Norman. They were like father and\nson. He was an excellent French scholar, and had also taken up Latin. He\nread to Mr. Le Moyne, wrote his letters, accompanied him everywhere. \"I\nwatch all that goes on as well as read the papers daily, and am really\neyes to him. He is sensitive on the point and scarcely acknowledges his\nmisfortune, but you can see how very dependent he must be on some one.\nAnd he has trained me to his habits and methods. He has the loveliest\nand most sincere nature, his friendship is the greatest boon a young\nfellow can have. I should be an ingrate to leave him now when he has\npleaded for me to stay. It is not altogether for the advantages, though\nthey are many, but my sympathies go out to him in the strongest manner.\nI could not refuse, although I longed to fly back to you all. And it is\nthe uncertainty that pains me most. It may be a year\u2014it may be\u2014I dare\nnot think. But he likes America, and expects to return even if the worst\nhappens. I have had a delightful time\u2014it would take weeks to recount\nthe pleasures and satisfactions. If I could only see you for an hour.\nAre you still a little girl? I cannot think of you as being large, as\never being what people call grown up. Oh, keep little until I come back,\nwhich must be in another year or two.\"\n\nI could not talk it over at first. I was glad when father came in\nthat he was in a great hurry to go to some meeting, where they were\nconsidering measures to be put into execution for the benefit of the\ncity as soon as spring opened, of broadening the river to give it a\nbetter current, of building new wharves and bridges. Improvement seemed\nto be the watchword everywhere. I listened with a thankful heart. I\nwas so glad not to have him ask about a letter as he had several times\nof late. So I brushed his coat and pulled his stock around straight,\nand found him a clean handkerchief. Then I went to bed with my sorrow,\ntelling Jolette I had a headache, and could see no one. Homer came\nover\u2014I heard his voice.\n\nI re-read my letter the next morning. It was dull and gray, with now\nand then little spits of snow, too cold to snow, pedestrians said one\nto another. Jolette's great comfort was smoking a pipe in the chimney\ncorner. Sometimes I quite longed for M'liss's inconsequent talk, but I\nwas glad to be alone to-day.\n\nAbout mid-afternoon Mrs. Hayne came over.\n\n\"You poor child!\" she cried. \"Are you ill?\"\n\nThe tears rushed to my eyes.\n\n\"Oh, Ruth, dear, don't take it so hard. I was afeared you would. The\npeople who go away are always more to us than we are to them in their\nnew lives. But this is such a splendid thing that we oughtn't grudge\nhim the chance. It's a thousand pities for Mr. Le Moyne, of course, and\ndreadful to be blind, but just think of all the advantages. Seeing the\nPresident, and actually going to a levee\u2014did he tell you?\u2014and wearing\na tail coat\u2014the old fashions coming round. I wonder if they have brass\nbuttons! My gran'ther had. Why, I never s'posed a son of mine would be\nthere or go to Paris! And you can't tell but what one of the boys will\nbe President!\"\n\nShe laughed gayly at the conceit.\n\n\"Then the salary! Of course people are making money here, but seems to\nme property's up one day and down the next. Chris got out his map, and\nwe looked up Paris. It's hundreds of years old, but my! France can't\nbegin with the United States, though we're not half settled. And it's\na great thing! They'll go to England, too, and he will see kings and\nqueens and high dukes. Why, I think it's just grand. Only I hope he\nwon't forget us all or get up to such a degree he will never want to\ncome back.\"\n\n\"Oh, he can't do that! He can't forget us!\" I cried with a rending pang\nat my heart.\n\n\"Well, not exactly that, but don't you see, Ruth, that his life is going\nto be altogether different from ours? Of course you can't understand\nhow a mother feels. She is glad to have her sons prosper, improve, even\nif it does take them away from her. She gets old and dies, and they\nhave their new lives to live, so it is all right. Betty Collins's son\nmarried a girl whose father owned miles and miles of live oak timber,\nand they've made a fortune somewhere in the Carolinas. She's a great\nlady and wears velvet gowns and some kind of lace that was forty dollars\na yard\u2014think of it! And how she'd look setting foot in this muddy old\nChicago. It's good enough for us who live here right straight along,\nbut for ladies!\"\n\nShe threw back her head and laughed. She was not at all dismayed, rather\nelated.\n\nWell, it was a fine opportunity. And then to be held in such high esteem!\n\n\"How are you getting along with your black woman? And your new rooms!\nHusband's talking of building, our house is old, and we're crowded, and\nno mistake. I do wish Dan would see some nice girl out there,\" nodding\nher head, \"and marry her. Homer's counting on getting married when\nhe's twenty-one, but I tell him to get his cage first. Birds are easily\ncaptured. Homer's nice and steady, and he's saving, too. He will make\na first-class husband. I have my eye on a girl for Ben,\" and her smile\nbrought a warm color to my cheek.\n\n\"I hear your father's taking great interest in all the goings on.\nThey talked high in '37. Why, you'd think the earth would be so full\nof people there'd hardly be standing room, and there's all to the\nMississippi River. Not but what the town wants clearing up bad, but we\ndon't want another panic.\"\n\nShe had been knitting as she talked. I liked to hear the rattle of her\nneedles, they kept such exact time.\n\n\"Would you mind reading your letter? You're doing nothing, I observe.\"\n\nI went in the other room and laid out the page that had the most\ntenderness and longing in it.\n\n\"Yes, yes,\" she subjoined in a pause. \"It's pretty much the same as\nmine, only those things about books and his learning Latin, I don't\nsense that,\" was her comment.\n\n\"'Twould be awful if that nice man should go blind. Then I s'pose Norman\nwould think to stay with him as long as he lived. Well, he will have a\ngood time, no doubt, and we mustn't murmur s'long as he's prosperous.\nAnd he may pick up some nice girl. Goodness me! Look at that snow! I\nmust trot off home. Come over, we miss you so much. And don't feel too\ndisappointed about Norman. I'd counted on seeing him sure.\"\n\nShe put up her knitting and bustled about, tied her ears up with\nher woollen hood, and set off cheerily. Yes, we were in for a storm,\nthe flakes were like a great army sweeping over the land. But it was\nsplendid! There was no wind to hurry them, they could take their time\nand be beautiful.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI\n\nA TIME FOR LOVE\n\n\nEverybody rejoiced in Norman Hayne's good fortune. There was another\npoint in it that sent a pang through my heart. Would he outgrow and\nforget?\n\nAnother friend went out of my small circle in the spring, Mrs. Chadwick.\nHer husband had established a business in Buffalo, and they moved\nthither. I did not realize then the valuable friend I had lost. I\nwas more interested in the young girls' good time. Homer Hayne was\nalways ready to escort Sophie and myself to the little parties and\nmerrymakings. Just now Dan had one of his periodic fancies for Polly\nMorrison, and his mother was much troubled about it.\n\n\"But if they love each other?\" I said. It really seemed to me that\nthey must, and now I had begun to speculate a little on this mysterious\npower.\n\n\"Child,\" she replied almost sternly, \"that kind of off and on business\nisn't love at all, and the great question is whether they can spend a\nlife together, and take up all the cares and perplexities and help each\nother along, steady them, comfort them, tide over the rough places that\ncome in all lives. It isn't all dancing and driving about with a fast\nhorse or careerin' over the prairies, racing like mad. I don't believe\nPolly knows how to do a single useful thing. Her old grandmother's\nalways been one of the high and mighty ones, and danced with two or\nthree of the Presidents. Maybe they were big people in Maryland, and\nshe gets some money twice a year from her people there. They've just\ngot that house and garden. Morrison was a nice kind of man, but then he\ndied, and Mis' Morrison just slaves herself to death taking care of that\nqueer old crittur that doesn't look like any sort of human being now.\nI hope to goodness I'll never live to look like that, as if the crows\nhad picked me, an' eyes like two burnt holes in a blanket.\"\n\nMrs. Hayne paused, all out of breath. I couldn't imagine her ever\nlooking like Granny Verrinder. Mrs. Morrison did not resemble her mother\nin the least, though she must have been past both youth and beauty\nwhen she was married. How they had come to drift to this place might\nhave puzzled people curious about their neighbors' antecedents. Polly\nhad been born here. From grandmother's early years to Mrs. Morrison's\nmarriage there seemed a hiatus about which they never talked. Mrs.\nMorrison was a meek, quiet, hard-working woman. I think now she could\nnever have known what to do with Polly, but whatever she did granny\ntraversed. She, the elder, quarrelled with the girl, and yet she adored\nher and brought out her old finery to adorn the madcap for the dances\nand merrymakings. But Polly held her head as high in her blue homespun\ngowns. The good time was all to her no matter if it was in a log cabin\nwith a black fiddler.\n\n\"The kind of wife Dan wants is a good, modest girl of strong principles\nwho can keep a clean, cheerful home and cook well. Poor feeding has\nruined many a man, and children are his salvation. I hope Dan's wife\nwill have a houseful. You see, a man begins to think about the future\nwhen there's sons to grow up. I've always wanted one girl, but Hayne was\nmighty fond of boys and that sort of 'leviated things. But I do hope and\npray that with all their wives there'll be one I can take to my heart\nlike an own daughter.\"\n\nThe little house of the Morrisons had only two rooms and a lean-to\nkitchen. The front was grandmother's, and had a carved high-post\nbedstead with faded silk curtains from the tester poles. There was a\ncurious chest of drawers with a kind of cabinet that had glass doors.\nBehind these were china and silver that did betoken former grandeur.\nGranny drank from the cups and took her sugar out of the silver bowl,\nher milk from the silver cream jug. In pleasant weather she sat out\nof doors a good deal in a great chair stuffed around with pillows. It\nhad rollers, and when the street was passable she would sometimes be\npushed up and down by her daughter, who was a veritable slave. A little\nshrivelled up old woman with a long nose and a sharp chin, but her still\nfine teeth would always keep them from meeting. She wore a cap and a\nfalse front of faded black, and was bundled up in shawls. Her stick kept\naway curious children. I think they felt there was something uncanny\nabout her. People had ceased to cultivate them, if they ever had, but\nPolly was welcome for her fun and brightness.\n\nI had noticed and Mrs. Chadwick had spoken of a great improvement in the\ntown. Education had really begun to educate. Provincialisms, elisions,\nand what father had called outlandish talking was falling into disuse.\nOf course, families coming from different States had brought in accents,\npronunciations and adages, some bright and to the point, it must be\nconfessed, but these were being toned down and refined. I had been a\ngood deal amused at the manner in which Ben had corrected his mother,\nand she had protested with the tart rejoinder, \"that her talk was plenty\ngood enough for her, and she didn't expect to put on French airs at her\ntime of life,\" but she did take more pains.\n\nOnce she said, \"Dear me! We shall all have to spruce up when Norme comes\nback so he won't be ashamed of us. I think father'll get the new house\nalso.\"\n\n\"Norme!\" How dear the old boyish nickname sounded.\n\nI was just past fifteen when the real things began to happen to me.\nThe year had been very pleasant, and I rather reluctantly did my hair\nup high and wore a bonnet for Sunday best, and a long skirt\u2014not very\nlong either\u2014what they would have been like trailing over dust and mud!\nFather was prospering, raising wheat and pigs and corn and buying up a\nbit of property or acres of prairie land. Jolette and I managed very\nwell. Mrs. Hayne occasionally suggested that girls of fifteen ought\nto be able to keep house, but now we had two cows and a great flock of\npoultry. Jolette made fine butter, and our eggs found a ready sale. Even\nat that time we sent some across the lake, for now vessels were coming\nand going continually, except in extreme weather.\n\n\"I was married when I was sixteen and did my washing and scrubbing\nand cooking. But such hands as those don't look like near kin to a\nwashboard;\" and she caught mine in hers so large and strong.\n\nThey _were_ slim and small. We had not begun to cultivate points of\naristocracy in that early period, or talk of claims to good birth, but\nI had often noted that father's hands were small and shapely for all\nhis hard work, though I am not sure but he managed to get the hardest\nand roughest out of other people.\n\nWe heard at intervals from Norman, who was busy and full of enjoyment.\nParis was wonderful. The new physician had at first given Mr. Le Moyne\na good deal of hope, except that the treatment could not be rapid. Then\nhad intervened a really serious illness, and during this time the optic\nnerve of one eye had been paralyzed. After that a winter in Spain, which\nwas enchanting.\n\n\"I am afraid I see many years of exile before me,\" Norman wrote in\nmy letter. \"What can I do? Mr. Le Moyne is the most delightful, the\nsincerest and certainly the most generous of friends. Through his\nconvalescence he has said so many times, 'What could I do without you,\nNorman, when I have no son or nephew even?' He has one sister, who is\nan invalid from a broken hip and partial paralysis, and her daughter is\na fashionable and titled lady. He is very fond of travelling and enjoys\nsociety, but now he needs some one continually. I know he fears he will\nbe blind, and he wants to be sure of a permanent stay and solace. Can I\nrelinquish some of the best hopes of my life\u2014yet I feel that I ought.\nIt seems as if God had given me this work to do, that it was not of\nmy own seeking, and I must trust Him to make it right in the end. It\nis very hard, but must I not go on in this straight path? Pray that I\nmay have strength, little girl. If I could not see it so clearly, but\nI do, and whatever may be said, remember that I would rather come home\nwithout a dollar and trust for a welcome than remain away years and reap\na fortune.\"\n\nBut I thought even years, five or seven, would not be so very long.\n\nWe had been down to the Piagets\u2014Homer and I. Mrs. Piaget was like a\ngirl in her merry ways. We had some guessing of proverbs and songs, a\ncup of tea and cake, both very plain, but with the fun and frolic most\nenjoyable. Just as we were saying good-night we crossed hands, Sophie,\nHomer, Luther Chandler and I.\n\n\"Oh, a wedding, a wedding!\" cried Nanette, and we all blushed and\nlaughed. \"Sophie is the eldest, it is her turn first.\"\n\nLuther was very sweet on Sophie, but I thought she did not care much\nfor him.\n\nThen Homer and I walked home.\n\n\"It's late, but I'm coming in,\" he exclaimed, and the resolution in his\nvoice roused me curiously.\n\nJolette was in her chimney corner. During the cold weather she rolled\nherself in a blanket and slept on the old settle.\n\n\"Ye'r pop's gone to bed,\" she said with a sort of grunt.\n\nWe went through to the keeping room. She had mended the fire, and it\nwas now blazing cheerfully. Oddly enough, two chairs stood invitingly\nbefore it, but I knew father did not like company staying late. It\nseemed unsocial not to ask him to sit down.\n\n\"You make a room look different from any one else, Ruth,\" he said,\nglancing around. \"There is always an air about it as if one really lived\non a little higher plane. Who would think of placing those pine boughs\nin the corner, and having pictures and books around, and always the\nnewspaper and little knicknacks and your work basket, and those pine\ncones with grass growing in them,\" as his eyes wandered around.\n\n\"Was that what you came in to say?\" I asked saucily, for it amused me.\n\n\"No, it wasn't.\" He looked at the fire a moment, then at me. I had both\nhands on the back of my low sewing chair.\n\n\"Ruth, will you marry me? Could you love me well enough to be my wife?\"\n\nI do not think the question took me quite by surprise. Mrs. Hayne had\nmade suggestions. Father had indulged in a few comments such as \"that he\nmeant to give Homer his walking papers\u2014it was too soon for any fellows\nto be hanging round.\" But we had been such good friends, without a bit\nof sentiment, as if a girl of fifteen could understand what sentiment\ntruly was!\n\n\"Oh, Homer!\" My voice almost failed in the great tremble of every nerve.\n\"Oh, what made you ask it?\"\n\n\"Because I wanted to know. Surely, Ruth, you will tell me the truth,\nthe whole truth. I've always been fond of you, and it seems as if Norme\nleft you to us when he went away. You were only a little girl, and\nhe has companied so much with high and mighty folks that I suppose he\nwill be miles and miles above anybody here. But mother's heart is set\nupon you, and she's nagged me lately, as if she thought I wasn't\u2014well,\nforward enough. We're all fond of you, you know. If you could\u2014only I'm\nafraid\u2014\" hesitatingly, \"that you _don't_ love me. A girl always shows\nit a little. We seem just good friends\u2014\"\n\n\"Oh, that is all we are, Homer!\" I cried, but my face was scarlet with\nblushes, and my heart gave a great throb of thankfulness. For I knew by\nsome sure insight, girl that I was, that he had no best of all love to\ngive me.\n\nThen he reached over and took my hand.\n\n\"I think I could love you dearly, and oh, little Ruth, I'd carry you in\nmy arms or let you walk over me, and spend my whole life thinking how\nI could make you happy. I'd work day and night that you should have the\nthings you enjoyed. All that would be nothing if you did not love me.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, you understand. And so let us keep friends. I think there\nis some one who could love you very dearly, who would be glad of your\nlove, and you would be very happy. I think you are saved for that.\"\n\nHe turned scarlet first, then deadly pale. \"Sophie,\" he murmured just\nunder his breath.\n\n\"Yes, it is Sophie. Homer, I have been hoping this long while\u2014\u2014\"\n\n\"Mother would never forgive me if I passed you by,\" he interrupted. \"You\nsee, I had to ask you. And if you had said yes I should have bent every\nenergy toward making you happy. Yes, I would have done it. But you're\nnot quite\u2014not like\u2014\"\n\n\"Not in love,\" I said smilingly. \"That makes everything easy, levels\nall inequalities, I have read somewhere. Then I am still a little girl.\nI didn't want to be grown up. I don't want any real lovers this long,\nlong while. And I shall be so glad for Sophie. She's seventeen and just\nthe right age, and so dear, and sweet, and wise, and such a splendid\nhousekeeper! Oh, you will be so happy, and she will just run over with\njoy.\"\n\n\"What I wanted to say, though I do not know as I can put it in the\nright words, is that you are not quite like other girls. You're like\na choice china cup, while the every-day earthen wouldn't mind the\ndishwater so much, you see,\" and he laughed. \"Ben understands. He said\nit wouldn't be fair, that you ought to have a gentleman who loved books\nand cultivation, and all that. And though I hope I'll be well-to-do\nsome day, I shouldn't ever care for the fancy things. Still I wouldn't\ngrudge them to the woman I loved. And you ought to have the best\u2014which\nisn't always money either.\"\n\nI didn't want to hear about myself, though I knew then there was a great\ngulf between Homer and me that only love could bridge over. Yet I did\nlove him dearly at that moment.\n\n\"And Sophie?\" I interposed.\n\n\"It's queer, isn't it? And they say girls are always jealous of each\nother. Ruth, you are the sweetest little thing in the world. If Sophie\ndidn't love you, I don't know as I could ask her. And I shall tell her\njust how it was. Of course, mother\u2014she must know, too, that I asked you.\nI like everything open and above board. And I guess the sign will come\nright\u2014that crossing of hands,\" smiling.\n\n\"And you'll ask her soon? I want her to be happy.\" I know my face was\nall eagerness.\n\n\"You may trust me for that.\"\n\nThe clock struck eleven.\n\n\"Ruth!\" exclaimed a peremptory voice.\n\n\"Yes, sir.\" Children said sir and ma'am in those days long after they\nwere grown up.\n\nWe went through the old kitchen. Jolette was snoring, but covered up\nhead and ears, and the embers covered over likewise. I let Homer out\nand fastened the door. Then I went back to father. He was leaning on one\nelbow, his head tousled and his eyes almost fierce, but I did not mind.\n\n\"Was that Homer Hayne making a night of it?\"\n\n\"Yes, father,\" and I couldn't help a mirthful sound.\n\n\"Did he ask you to marry him\u2014the truth, child.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" and I could not forbear laughing. \"But he is in love with Sophie\nPiaget, only his mother wanted him to\u2014to\u2014\"\n\nThen father laughed and gave me a hug.\n\n\"Yes, I knew that was in the air, but I thought I'd head it off.\nSophie! Well, she will make just the right sort of wife for him. Ruth,\nchickabiddy, you're too young to get tangled up in such things. You're\nnot to have any lovers for years yet. Do you hear?\"\n\n\"Oh, father, I don't want any. I couldn't be any happier if I had a\ndozen.\"\n\n\"A dozen! I hope it will never come to that. Not even one in ever so\nlong. There, little girl, give me a good-night kiss and go to bed.\"\n\nHe held me in his arms for some seconds. Perhaps it wasn't the fashion\nin those days, but people were not generally effusive.\n\nIt rained the next day. I spun with a light heart, looked after my hens\nand then knotted some fringe for my curtains in a pretty way Sophie\nhad taught me. Father read the paper aloud. There was an Indian war\nin Florida now, and some important political questions discussed in a\nrather heated manner.\n\nI really wanted to run down to the Piagets, the next morning, but I\nresolutely refused myself. It was clear and cold. Jolette made mince\npies. Father had brought the love of pie from his native State. What an\nappetizing fragrance they diffused.\n\nAbout mid afternoon I caught sight of Sophie slipping about the frozen\npath full of hummocks, but she balanced herself with a fascinating art.\nI ran to the door.\n\n\"Oh, I wanted to see you so, I hoped you would come. Of course you\nknow. I am the happiest girl in all Chicago! But if you had loved\nhim\u2014and often I thought he loved you, and I stood no chance. I wouldn't\nlet mother speak\u2014that is the French fashion, you know\u2014I was so afraid\nhe might be affronted. Luther had asked mother's permission, and she\nthought it was time I was betrothed. But I couldn't make up my mind to\nthat. I've been gay and full of fun, but sometimes my heart ached for\nvery dread. Only you are such a child!\"\n\n\"Why, yes, it was ridiculous.\"\n\n\"But Mrs. Hayne loves you so. You'd do worlds better for Ben.\"\n\n\"I don't want to do for anybody.\"\n\n\"But Ben isn't grown up.\"\n\n\"And there's Chris, if Ben won't have me,\" I said, with a sense of\namusement at being handed down. \"And you understand\u2014Homer asked me to\nplease his mother. Of course he likes me, but that isn't marrying love.\"\n\n\"Yes, you are going to be the dearest little sister to us. Oh, I do\nwonder if Mrs. Hayne will truly like me?\"\n\n\"Yes, she will when she comes to know you well. She has hoped so that\nDan would marry, only she didn't want Polly Morrison.\"\n\n\"And now they're at it again. This time everybody thinks it will make a\nmatch. I don't like Dan. He's the great Mogul, and he flirts awfully. I\nwouldn't be his wife for half Chicago. But Homer is so sweet and patient\nand tender. He has some of your ways,\" smiling generously, \"and he will\nbuild his house at once. Oh, won't it be just splendid! I shall go to\nwork immediately. What a delight it must be to make up one's trousseau.\nI have yards and yards of lace knit, and fringe made. I shall not sell\nany more. Oh, Ruth,\" studying me intently, \"are you quite sure you are\nhappy over it? For you could have taken him\u2014and I don't see how you\nescaped loving him.\"\n\n\"Then you would have been unhappy. Now we are both happy and content.\"\n\nI came to know afterward that there were women who fancied you were\ndying for their particular lover, and it vexed me, and men who thought\nyour world could easily have been bounded by them.\n\nI made Sophie stay to supper. Homer was not coming that evening. He\nwanted to explain to his parents and make some arrangements. Father\nwished her all good fortune and teased her a little, admitting that she\nwould have one of the best of husbands.\n\nI hesitated to make my weekly visit to Mrs. Hayne, and the day I set it\nstormed. But I walked over with Ben and Chris after Sunday School.\n\n\"You naughty girl,\" Mrs. Hayne began. \"I don't know when I can forgive\nyou. I suppose you _were_ ashamed.\"\n\n\"What did she do?\" asked Chris, eager eyed.\n\n\"Oh, she knows. There, you two boys, run off. I want to talk to her and\nI don't want you catching gabble seed.\"\n\nThey went reluctantly.\n\n\"I hoped he'd wait for you, he would have been young enough then, and a\nchit like you don't know her mind, though many a girl has been married\nat fifteen. Sophie Piaget is a nice enough girl, industrious and all\nthat, but he might have looked higher. I don't quite like the French of\nit, and the Catholic, though I'm not bigoted. I never supposed you were\nhelping things along, or I'd put my finger in the pie sooner.\"\n\nHad I helped it along? I had a guilty feeling.\n\n\"Father wouldn't hear to my being engaged or having a real lover,\" I\nsaid with some dignity. \"And\u2014I don't want one, I don't care about being\nmarried.\"\n\n\"You'll sing another tune presently. Though after all,\" in a softer\ntone, \"there is plenty of time.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII\n\nNOT MERRY, BUT WEDDING BELLS.\n\n\nMrs. Hayne did not feel comfortable over Homer's engagement. It was a\nfull fortnight before she could make a formal call on Mrs. Piaget. She\nhad been there on errands, and Sophie and I were often at the Haynes'.\nBut she stopped for me one day, \"since it had to be done,\" she said,\nand we walked down together. She was not at her best, though she had\non her Sunday clothes. Perhaps she would have felt more at ease in\nher every-day ones. She was generally so cordial and heartsome that I\nnoticed and felt sorry for the stiffness.\n\nOf course she said some pleasant things\u2014that she knew Sophie would make\na good, industrious wife, and that was what young men needed. She had\nno patience with flyaways, and girls who were too good to work, who were\ntaking up the new ideas that you must sit in the parlor and play on the\npiano, and have lace undersleeves dangling about your wrists, and a tail\nto your frock to sweep up the dirt everywhere. Clothes, she took it,\nwere made for use and comfort.\n\nWomen were wearing very full skirts, and all around the back they\n\"dipped\" and had to be held up in the streets. Sleeves were wide and\nflowing with lace or fine muslin ruffles inside. Some had an edge of\nneedlework, but if that came from the convents in Canada it was costly,\nand the younger girls were doing it for themselves. They took their work\nalong when they went to make calls, and calls then were an hour or so\nlong between friends, and you \"laid off your things.\"\n\nThere was coming to be quite a circle of what was considered afterward\n\"the first people,\" and who had streets named for them. There were the\nNewberrys and Owenses, the Hamiltons and Pecks and Roberts, the Menards\nand Nobles, and Baubeins and Kinzies, who seemed the fathers of the\ntown, and talked of the block house and the few cabins around it, the\nattack on the fort, and the Indian skirmishes. When you listened to them\nChicago seemed really old.\n\nThen there was only one set, with the clergymen having the place of\nhonor. Now there were several circles, not strongly defined, and living\nin amity, but each one choosing its own friends. The cream went out\nshopping when the new goods came in, and no longer wore homespun. Their\nsons and daughters went away for the finishing touches in education.\n\nThe Haynes were then in what we should call the middle class. There were\nsome fine French people, but they seemed a little colony to themselves,\nas well as the Germans. I liked all the French people I had met very\nmuch, perhaps I was drawn to them by the thought of Norman in Paris.\nI did admire their courtesy and a certain dainty politeness as if they\nalways knew just the right thing to do, and did it graciously.\n\nMrs. Piaget brought out her best cake and wine. She had some fine\nembroidered napkins, others done in exquisite drawn work, and her\nglasses were clear and fine, letting the tint of the wine shine through.\nAnd the cake was delicious. She always flavored it. She had the art\nof making flavors and scents, and their clothing had an indescribable\nfragrance.\n\n\"Well, well,\" Mrs. Hayne said, when we had left the house, \"that's done\nwith, and I've been dreading it. Sophie will make a nice wife, I dare\nsay, but I think Homer could have found some good American girl. There's\nKate and Annie Noble. They always ask him to their gatherings, and Mr.\nNoble said to father that he was a smart, level-headed fellow, and would\nmake his mark. I've been counting on my boys marrying, and I've wanted\nsome one I could company with and feel to like as an own daughter.\"\n\n\"But Sophie is very sweet and affectionate,\" I ventured.\n\n\"She's French. The old saying is that 'blood's thicker 'n water.'\nAnd she'll have her ways, and her friends, and they'll jabber that\neverlasting tongue that you can't make head nor tail of until you wish\nthere hadn't been any Tower of Babel, and everybody had gone on talking\nthe same language.\"\n\nI laughed at that. How queer it must have seemed when no one understood\nany one else!\n\n\"And I s'pose Norman will come home with some fine French body who\ncan't comb her hair nor put on her stockings nor shoes, and must have\na maid, as old Granny Verrinder talks about. What better off is she for\nall the fuss! Granny Pettingill is eighty, and she can spin on the big\nwheel, and knit and sew, and is worth a dozen of that other old thing,\nthat's wearing out her daughter's life. I don't know what you'd do with\na dozen. I'd bundle 'em up in a bag an' drop 'em in the lake.\"\n\nMother Hayne was forgetting Ben's training, and dropping back into her\nelisions, which showed that she was rather short in the temper.\n\nI was truly sorry about it all. Yet I could not wish it different. And\nwhen Sophie ran over in the edge of the evening I tried to comfort her.\n\n\"She doesn't like me, I can see that,\" she said with a catch in her\nbreath that was like a sob. \"And I feel so sorry for Homer. He has\ncounted on our all being so happy together, and I would try to be like\na true daughter, only she is so stiff I shall always feel afraid.\"\n\n\"I think she will get over it. She has such a good warm heart. I'm quite\nsure it will get settled by the time you are ready to be married,\" I\nsaid hopefully. I couldn't imagine Mrs. Hayne holding out.\n\n\"We're going to have a betrothal party. Mother was waiting for her call\nto settle that, and Mr. Hayne has given Homer a lot. It's almost out\non the prairie, but if the Wrights don't mind living there we oughtn't.\nWe've been planning it\u2014he's going to build two rooms quite to the middle\nof the lot, and when he gets forehanded, as you Americans say, he will\nput up a nice front.\"\n\nFather thought that an excellent idea. Homer came and talked it over\nwith him, and I think he was much pleased.\n\nThen there was the betrothal party. They had a new priest now at St.\nMary's\u2014Father Fischer, and he was very gracious and kindly. The ceremony\nseemed as solemn as a marriage to me. But it was true that most of the\nguests were French. I was beginning to talk quite well, and felt really\nat home among them.\n\n\"I don't know what we should do without you,\" Homer said, squeezing my\nhand. \"You must coax up mother, and we will try to do our best. Sophie's\nthe one girl in the world to me, and yet I love you just the same. But\nthe sweetest of all is having the girl glad to come to you.\"\n\nAfter P\u00e8re Fischer had given them a second blessing and gone, with some\nof the elders, old Billy Griffin came in with his violin, and we had\nsome dancing, with plenty of cake and a kind of cordial made out of\nspiced fruits, that was quite harmless.\n\nDan had come in and seemed a good deal interested. I danced with him,\nbut Sophie said it was long and short division. I was still growing and\nalmost as tall as Sophie.\n\nAfter that we began to plan for the wedding outfit. The night of her\nbetrothal Mrs. Piaget had given Sophie her string of gold beads. She\nhad one of not very choice pearls, but pretty, I thought, which would be\nNanette's, six of her silver teaspoons, three tablespoons with the mark\nof a Paris silversmith on them, and some quaint china dishes, as well\nas a fine pewter basin. Then there was a cream silk gown with dainty\nflowers sprinkled over it, some of her mother's youthful finery, that\nwould be made over into the wedding gown.\n\nAs for sheets and blankets and table linen, they were to be evolved\nsomehow, and pretty underwear, so dear to a girl's heart. There was\nstill a scarcity of money about, and so one had to exercise one's wits.\n\nThe town was thrown into quite a ferment that entirely eclipsed our\nsimple engagement. A Frenchman, one Pierre Maseurier, had been up\nto Chicago some weeks. He was much interested in the canal and trade\ngenerally, and had a large place at Vincennes, as well as some sugar\ninterests in Louisiana. Small, old, but sharp and eager, as if he were\njust beginning life, instead of having it more than half spent. What\nbrought him into contact with Granny Verrinder no one could explain, but\nhe was quite a frequent caller. Suddenly the little town was astonished\nat another betrothal. Whether Polly Morrison had captured him, a widower\nof long standing, with two married sons, or whether he had tempted her\nwith the brilliant prospect, no one could tell. She curtly dismissed her\nold admirers, there was an elaborate wedding gown sent for, and Polly,\ndressed in sumptuous furs and covered with a white wolf robe, was driven\nabout as if she were a queen.\n\nTwo days after a night's debauch, Dan Hayne left for Buffalo. He knocked\ndown a friend who offered him a teasing condolence, but vouchsafed no\nexplanation to any one. Then there was a wedding at St. Mary's, with a\nnuptial mass and all the accessories of state. Bishop Quartier came up\nto marry them, and the lovely Saint Palais, who was afterward Bishop\nof Vincennes. It was a grand affair, and it seemed as if the whole town\nturned out. Polly looked as handsome as if she had just stepped out of\na picture, and most people wondered afterward, for she had never been\nconsidered a beauty.\n\nMrs. Hayne felt so much relieved that she began to take a warmer\ninterest in Sophie and the new house. There were other mothers who\ngave thanks, no doubt, for wild, wilful Polly had been a terror to\nthem. First it was one lover sighing at her feet and then another. She\ncertainly did delight in using her wiles on other girls' lovers, not\nthat she wanted the admirers either, but just to try her power. There\nwas only one man who won her heart as I came to know afterward, but\nmoney and position outweighed love.\n\nOf course she had taken M. Maseurier for the luxury he could give her.\nNo girl of eighteen would be likely to marry a wizened-up old man past\nsixty if he were poor. Everybody settled to that.\n\nAbout six weeks afterward Granny Verrinder died very suddenly, though\nshe was past ninety-six. She had been taken to her granddaughter's\nmarriage, lifted in and out of a coach, and so bundled up that no one\nsaw much of her except two staring black eyes. It was supposed Mrs.\nMorrison would rejoin her daughter, but whether granny had more money\nthan any one thought, or that the wealthy son-in-law had made provision\nfor her, no one was quite certain. She repaired and renovated her\nhouse, built on another room, distributed the furniture around more\ncomfortably, took in an old negro woman, and though she did not enlarge\nthe borders of her friendship, she came to look less careworn, went to\nchurch occasionally, and perhaps found a little happiness. At least,\nshe was exempt from care.\n\nWe heard that Polly was living in great style and had everything heart\ncould wish.\n\nDan came back three or four weeks afterward and went about his business\nas if nothing had happened, held up his head and was in no wise broken\nhearted. Indeed, I thought him improved. He took a real interest in\nHomer's house, advanced him some money, so that he could meet bills\npromptly, and was pleasant and brotherly to Sophie, who had always felt\na little afraid of him.\n\nIt was a very delightful spring and early summer to me. Father was\nprosperous and jolly, and we were so interested in completing the\ntrousseau and house equipment. When one goes out and orders a long list,\nhas them sent home and put in their places, one misses the delight and\ninterest of real home-making.\n\nThen the wedding day was set. It would be in the church, of course,\nand that did fret Mrs. Hayne. There was no great fuss about mixed\nmarriages then, though good P\u00e8re Fischer hoped in his pleasant manner\nthat sometime Homer would be numbered among those of the true faith.\n\nNanette and I were bridesmaids. I had a sheer white muslin frock and a\nwide white satin sash that came down to the very bottom of the skirt.\nThere were no picture hats, but we each wore a wreath, and Sophie her\nmother's wedding veil, that then was folded up and laid away in a box\nfor Nanette, who was free to have lovers now.\n\nThe wedding was at noon, and Mrs. Hayne gave a generous dinner, tables\nbeing set in both rooms. Sophie made a sweet and blushing bride, Homer\nwas fine and manly. Dan made the speech of the occasion, and everybody\ndrank to the health of the bride and groom and wished them children and\ngrandchildren.\n\nAbout mid-afternoon the procession started for home. Dan took Nanette,\nBen and me in his two-seat wagon. There was to be an evening company, an\n\"infair,\" as it was called, in the new house. The bedstead and bedding\nhad been stored in the shed, the two rooms were decorated with vines\nand flowers and hanging candlesticks and lamps, so that in the evening\nthe lights would be in no one's way.\n\nRandolph Street was a lane then with but few houses, and out beyond\nstretched the prairie that was to be a compact city long before the\ncentury ended.\n\n\"Oh, I do hope you won't be lonesome way out here,\" I said to Sophie.\n\n\"Why, I shall have Homer, you know,\" opening her eyes wide as if she\nthought my wish inconsequent.\n\n\"But not in the daytime.\"\n\n\"Then I shall be busy about my work.\"\n\n\"Why I thought we had done sewing enough to last seven years,\" I said\ngayly.\n\n\"Well\u2014there will be cooking for a hungry man, and I don't mean that\nHomer shall wish for his mother when meal time comes. And Mr. Hayne\nthinks it will be a good thing for Homer to bring his shop over here.\nChicago is building up so fast, and it will have to stretch out every\nway. Then a good deal of the time he will be home to dinner. You and\nNan and the girls will visit me\u2014oh no, I shall not be lonesome.\"\n\nShe was so happy. And though it had not the brightest beginning, Mother\nHayne came to take great comfort in her daughter.\n\nWe had a merry time with some new plays and dancing. Mr. Hayne took\nseveral of the older people home, then his wife, Nanette and myself.\n\n\"Well, they've had a very nice time and started fair, and they'll get\nalong all right,\" said the satisfied motherly voice.\n\n\"Homer has a long head. I shan't have made a fortune, but I look for\nmy sons to be some of the rich men of Chicago. Dan knows how to make\nmoney, and if he learns how to keep it, he'll be all right. I dare say\nthat blind Frenchman will do well by Norman, and Ben's steady going. I\nshouldn't wonder if Chris turned parson,\" and he laughed.\n\n\"Dan's like his old self,\" returned Mrs. Hayne. \"I don't know when I've\nset so much store by him as I have this last week. That girl was a sort\nof a witch, I do believe, and she just upset every man that she set her\neyes on. There's 'Lias Gordon gone to the dogs, hasn't drawn a sober\nbreath since her wedding day. 'Twas said she promised to marry him, but\nI don't believe that. She was looking for the best chance. And I don't\njust see how all this good luck came to her. But she'll have to carry\nherself mighty straight, or that old fellow will beat her, you could\nsee it in his eye, and 'twould serve her just right. I give thanks, like\ngood old David, seven times a day that she's out of Dan's way.\"\n\nI missed Sophie and the excitement, though some new girl friends came\nin, and Ben was my devoted cavalier. But one night he surprised me by\na very na\u00efve confession. Were the Haynes, little and big, bound to own\nme?\n\nHe had been descanting on Homer's happiness, which was ideal, of course.\n\n\"The right thing for a man to do is to get married when he reaches a\ncertain place,\" began Ben gravely. \"And I've some plans\u2014I'm going in\nHamilton's real estate and law office. They want a clerk. There isn't\nany more money in it, but I'm going to study law. I've been thinking of\nit this good while. I've listened to the men talking politics, and I'm\nawfully interested in that smart Stephen A. Douglas. Ruth, this is going\nto be a great country, and it will need more and more people to govern\nit. A State can have only two senators, but as her population increases\nshe has more representatives, and that takes a man to Washington. Then\nthere are judges and governors of States.\"\n\n\"And Presidents,\" I laughed.\n\n\"Only one every four years. Seems to me they tie his hands behind\nhis back, and then grumble because he doesn't pull up every weed. He\ndoesn't have so much power, after all. But I'd like to be in public life\nsomewhere, to work on the souls or beliefs of men. It's a grand thing!\"\n\n\"Oh, Ben!\" I was amazed. Quiet, apparently contented Ben!\n\n\"Yes, I'm going to set out for that. If you don't put up a mark you\ncan't help shooting at random. Of course it will take a long while and\nhard study, but one reason why I like you so much is that you're fond of\nbooks, and have more real sense than most girls. And, Ruth, you could be\na perfect lady. It's born in some people, and when it isn't they never\nget quite up to the mark.\"\n\n\"Oh, thank you,\" I returned, amused, as he made a little pause. \"On what\npedestal am I to be put?\"\n\nI had no idea of what he would say, and somehow I was not a little\nbewildered by his ambitious projects.\n\n\"Well, when I get up to the place where I can care for a wife, I want\nyou. You would read and study and talk with a fellow, and keep him up\nto the mark, too. I was glad you didn't want to marry Homer, not but\nwhat he will make a splendid, devoted husband, but house and wife and\nchildren will be his boundaries. He will vote the Democratic ticket\nbecause his father did, not from any principle or conviction. Oh, do\nyou remember how you and Norman once quarrelled about politics?\" and he\nlaughed.\n\n\"But, Ben\u2014I\u2014\"\n\nHe made a gesture with his hand, and I never understood before how much\nfine dignity Ben possessed.\n\n\"After all this, if you haven't really fallen in love with any one else,\nI shall ask you. But if you do meet with any one you prefer this must\nnot stand in the way. I don't believe you will be the kind of girl who\nis always reaching out after lovers. Your father will want to keep you.\"\n\n\"Oh, that is it,\" I interrupted. \"Father has forbidden my having any\nlovers for a long while yet.\"\n\n\"We will be friends just as we have been. I'll come and talk over my\nplans with you. Mother, you see, wouldn't understand. I like your\nfather's bright, trenchant remarks, too. There's some width to his\nbrain. But all the other will be put off until the right time comes\u2014laid\naway on the shelf of the future, not to be meddled with. And now if\nfather scolds about my throwing up a good business chance, you will\nunderstand why I do it.\"\n\nI could not have helped admiring Ben. He had such a good, strong face.\nAll the boys were well looking, none as handsome as Dan, but it seemed\nto me later on in life as if each to a certain degree carried his\ncharacter in his face.\n\n\"So now we have had a good talk,\" continued Ben\u2014he had done all the\ntalking\u2014\"and we understand the ground we go upon. You know you are the\ndearest girl to all of us. I shall never forget the night you came. And\nwe will be the best of friends.\"\n\nCould I refuse when the tender eyes looked up so confidently?\n\n\"The best of friends,\" I returned, and I felt the solemnity of my own\nvoice.\n\nIt was true that Ben's new plans were rather frowned upon. His employer\nwas sorry to lose him.\n\n\"There's lots of money made in speculation,\" said Mr. Hayne, \"and\nlots lost as well. Stands to reason values can't always increase, and\nimmigrants can't always come in. We have a big country, with other lakes\nand rivers, and the whole Atlantic coast for shipping. Then it seems\nrather shifty business to me for steady company.\"\n\nBen did not mind, however. There were some new and exciting questions\nto greet the new President and his Cabinet. The boundary of Oregon and\nBritish America almost stirred up warfare, and a new difficulty loomed\nup when the State of Texas, an independent principality, asked to enter\nthe Union. Mexico objected, and there was a talk of war. We had many\nthings on hand, streets and the muddy old river, and at last the canal\nthat was going to do so much for us approaching completion. Every year\na greater demand for wheat and corn and live stock. Father added field\nto field, it seemed a passion with him.\n\nThe next spring there came a little girl to Homer and Sophie Hayne. I\nthink Mrs. Hayne was the gladdest of all. The little girl of her own\nblood that she had so longed for. A sweet, good little thing who seldom\ncried and smiled readily.\n\nThey were all prosperous. Homer began to build houses and sell them.\nDan was steady, and turning his attention largely to cattle raising\nand buying, and had an interest in packing. He had a room now at the\nhotel, and seemed to care little for girls, though he was not averse to\nsocial pleasures. His one passion was Chita, who was kept beautifully\ngroomed. He raced her now and then. She was the mother of a splendid\ncolt. He used to talk to her as if she was a human being, and I think\nshe understood every word.\n\nAs for Mr. Le Moyne, the treatment had failed. Norman had promised to\nremain with him. They would reside in Paris and travel.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII\n\nTHE SHADED SIDE\n\n\nI was having a happy girl's life with friends and pleasures. Nanette\nPiaget had a lover, a young French Canadian, who became enamored of\nprairies, and saw boundless possibilities in wheat. He had some money\nand would settle in Chicago.\n\nOne day father was brought home from a bad fall, unconscious; they\nfeared at first that he was dead. I was stunned. Mrs. Piaget came over\nand one of our neighbors, Mrs. Lewis.\n\nThey found his hip was badly broken. Three physicians worked over him,\nand after some hours he was bandaged. One doctor remained all night,\nand Mrs. Lewis stayed. She did a good deal of nursing, and made her home\nwith a married daughter.\n\nFever set in, and there followed six weeks of danger. I don't know what\nwould have happened, but Dan Hayne took charge of the outside matters.\nThe wheat had been cut and was to be brought in, a splendid crop it was.\n\n\"Everything grows its best for your father,\" he said. \"This is the first\nsetback he has had.\"\n\nEverybody was very kind. But I had never known sorrow or anxiety, and\nthe saddest of all was not to do anything that would help. He had to\nlie still and suffer. In the height of the fever he was strapped to\nthe cot, to keep him from doing any worse injury to his hip. Mrs. Hayne\ncoaxed me to come down and stay a few days, but I had an awful fear that\nfather would die. Or he might come to consciousness and ask for me. Now\nand then he talked of our journey from the old Bay State, and murmured,\n\"Little girl, little girl,\" but he did not realize that the little girl\nwas at his side whenever she was allowed to be.\n\nThere were a few days when he hovered between life and death and dozed\nmost of the time. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me and said in\na tremulous tone, \"Ruth.\"\n\n\"Father!\" I caught his thin white hand and covered it with kisses and\ntears.\n\nHe drew a long breath. \"I've been pretty sick, haven't I? How long has\nit been\u2014a fortnight?\"\n\n\"Almost two months.\"\n\n\"Two months! And the wheat\u2014the corn\u2014ruined! And what is the matter with\nmy side? I can't move my leg. Why, I don't understand.\"\n\n\"You were hurt by a fall. You have been very ill with a fever. And now\nyou are better. You are going to get well.\"\n\nI leaned my head down on his shoulder and cried. I could not help it.\n\n\"Poor little girl!\" he said. \"Poor little girl!\"\n\nThen Dr. Carpenter came in, and I know he was greatly relieved.\n\n\"But we are not out of the woods!\" He shook his head dubiously. \"You\ncan blow out your candle very easily, but with care you may burn it to\nthe socket. Still you have had a mighty tight squeeze. And there must\nbe no crying over him,\" shaking his finger at me.\n\n\"Except for joy,\" I retorted, wiping my eyes.\n\n\"I do begin to recall things, but I had no idea I had been ill so long.\nAnd my hip\u2014my leg?\"\n\n\"It was a very bad break. It hasn't gone on as we hoped, the fever was\ntoo much for it. But we think it will be all right in the end. It will\nbe a winter's job, and call for a good deal of patience.\"\n\nFather groaned and covered his face with his hands.\n\n\"You may be dismissed, little maid,\" with a smile and gesture of the\nhand, \"we have some secret rites to perform.\"\n\nI went out and hugged Jolette in my joy.\n\n\"I knowed 'twas all right,\" said Jolette. \"I've harked to dat ar\nschreech owel an' never yet counted t'ree. T'ree jes' sure sartin', fer\na death. An' the candile didn't roll up a windin' sheet in de new of\nthe moon. As fer dogs howlin,' you can't depend on dem no mo', 'ceptin\ndey run right in de sick room.\"\n\nMrs. Lewis had stayed with us nearly all the time, making a call now\nand then at her daughter's. She returned before the doctor went away,\nand declared that she, too, expected favorable word, for she had seen a\nchange the last three days. \"And if one doesn't drop off sudden, they're\nsure to pull through.\"\n\nDan came in every night and I told him of the comforting verdict.\n\n\"I thought he'd pull through. You see, he's wiry, and a steady man, too.\nHad everything in his favor, but it was a tight squeeze.\"\n\n\"Oh, Dan, you've been so good, so splendid!\" and I caught his hand,\nlooking up with tears in my eyes. \"I don't know what we should have done\nwithout you.\"\n\n\"Remember that some day.\"\n\nI did not understand the words nor the tone.\n\nThe next was Sunday, and many of the neighbors were in. I was not\nneeded, and I went to Sophie's with the good tidings. The baby was so\nsweet and cunning. There had been quite a time about naming it. They\nboth decided upon Ruth, but there was grandmother, who would have\nfelt hurt if left out. Elise and Elizabeth were so much alike they\ncould compliment both in the same name. So it was Ruth Elizabeth,\nbut Homer always called her Little Girl. What would Chicago be when\nshe was sixteen? Men would be describing old Chicago as they did now.\nBut the log houses would be gone, and the plain brick houses were not\npicturesque. Would there be any old Fort Dearborn? And some of the\nIndians had thought it wiser to move further back. The wheat and oats\nand corn were trenching upon the ground to which they really had no\nclaim. They still had their ball games and their races, the ambition of\nevery young brave was to own a horse. Work for anything else they would\nnot. The squaws supplied them with clothing. They fished and hunted,\nbut the squaws tilled the fields, did bead work, made curious chains of\npolished shells, that looked as if they were set with gems. They seemed\nhappy, too, but at middle life they were wrinkled old women.\n\nSaturday afternoon was a gala time. They had games and dances, sometimes\nsuch fierce war dances it seemed as if they would scalp each other.\nThere were stringent laws against selling them any quantity of liquor,\nand the clergymen tried to rouse some moral and intellectual ambition\nin them, but it was hard work. Were they really the ornamental denizens\nof the wilderness, and with the passing of that would they disappear?\n\nHomer and Sophie were glad of my good news. I really was in an exultant\nstate. And when Homer took me home we found Ben there, who was delighted\nand eager.\n\n\"I'm so glad,\" he said afterward, as we stood on the old stoop, that\nnow extended out to the edge of the sidewalk. Father had raised us at\nleast two feet. \"I've been thinking what I could do for you, and that\nI ought to come in often, but I had a splendid chance to learn German,\nwhich will take three evenings in a week. And the disturbances in Europe\nsend so many immigrants over here. I don't wonder they love to get to a\nfree land, out of the reach of tyrants, and there is so much to study.\"\n\n\"Oh, Ben,\" I replied, \"don't worry about us. I dare say some one will\nbe in every evening when father is well enough to talk, and when he can\ngo out a little\u2014\"\n\n\"It's you I am thinking about, and if I can be of any service you will\nsurely let me know.\"\n\nI promised. How good they all were to me. Does one recall past events\nmore distinctly as one grows older? I could always see myself as father\nlifted me out of the old wagon, when I was half frightened at such a\nhost of boys.\n\nFather improved very slowly, but his mind was clear, and he had a good\nhope of being able to get about by spring. I had known that Dan Hayne\nhad been attending to the place, but I was hardly prepared for the\naccounting he gave father.\n\n\"Really, Dan,\" and father's voice was husky with emotion, \"things would\nhave gone to the dogs if you had not come to the fore. I don't know how\nI will ever get straight with you.\"\n\nDan laughed. He had such a jolly, light-hearted ring in his voice, just\nlike his mother's.\n\n\"It wasn't such a desperate sight, just to oversee. The men seemed to\nknow how to take hold. Gaynor, I suppose you're a shrewd, long-headed\nYankee, looking at the end, instead of going off half cocked. You have\neverything dovetailed, and one thing just fits in with another. I've\nlearned a lot of things these two months and looked after my own affairs\nas well. I think you're about right. Twenty or thirty years from now\nwe'll be feeding these people of the East, who think they know a little\nbit more than all the rest.\"\n\n\"I wasn't brought up in a slipshod fashion,\" returned father dryly.\n\"Though I don't wonder you people trust to chance. I never saw such pure\nluck in my life as there is here\u2014one can't call it anything else.\"\n\nFather had an excellent appetite and began to feel real well at heart,\nas he termed it. Homer made him a very convenient chair, that could be\nraised and lowered by an ingenious crank and a set of pins. But they\nfound when the doctor and Jolette, who was good and strong, stood him\nup that he had no power at all over the hurt limb\u2014very little feeling\nin it.\n\n\"Are you going to tell me that I must be a one-legged limpy Dick all\nthe rest of my life?\" he demanded of the doctor. He was not a profane\nman usually, but he did swear then.\n\n\"Well, we hope not. The joint has not mended as we expected; it isn't\nsound. It's the worst break a man can have to knock him out, but here\nit hasn't been quite four months, and the fever was awful. A man who\ncould pull through that can pull through other things. There is some\nparalysis, but when you come to exercise even that may mend. I think it\nhas improved in a month. I give you a year before I lose heart.\"\n\nFather groaned, and when he took his hands from his face I saw there\nwere tears in his eyes.\n\nBut we made his room cheerful, and he could be pushed about in his\nchair. Jolette was as good as a masseur, she was so strong and vigorous.\nThe doctor instructed her how to rub him, and some medicaments were\nused. We had a good fire blazing on the hearth. Neighbors came in\nand played cards and repeated the general gossip. Then I read to\nhim. We took the _Democrat_ now, and a new paper, the _Journal_,\nhad been started. He liked to hear all sides. Some of the ideas he\nflatly contradicted, others he called fool talk. He was very fond of\narguing. He and Dan had it hot and heavy sometimes, and I was afraid\nDan would break off in anger. I used to go to the door with him and say\npleadingly:\n\n\"Oh, Dan, you won't mind, will you? Remember how ill father has been,\nand how awfully disappointed he feels at not getting thoroughly well.\nHe doesn't mean all he says, and he would miss you terribly\u2014\u2014\"\n\n\"Don't worry, little one. I can make allowance. Some of it amuses me,\ntoo.\"\n\nThen he took my face in his hands and turned it up a little until our\neyes met. His were a deep gray. There was a masterful expression in them\nthat went all through one. He stooped a little and kissed me with what\nI understood later was the passion of a strong man, and it left me as\nhelpless for a moment as that night of the wild ride.\n\n\"Never mind, little dear,\" he said, and was gone.\n\n\"Such a dumb idiotic fool as Dan Hayne is in some things! If I couldn't\nsee an inch before my nose I'd get some sort of a machine and pull it\nout longer. He's all right on this slavery business\u2014we don't want it\nhere at the North. And the tariff has two sides, I'm free to confess.\nBut some other matters\u2014\u2014\"\n\n\"I wish you wouldn't quarrel so much with him,\" I interrupted. \"And he\nis so good to us. You and Mr. Harris always get along so nicely.\"\n\n\"Shucks!\" snorted father in disdain. \"There's no arguing where two\npeople believe just the same things in the same way, or pretend to. I\nlike a man to have some sharp opinions, if he does ram the points into\nyou. It's like a wrestling bout, and stirs up your blood. Dan won't be\nso sure of things when he is forty.\"\n\nI felt a little relieved. But the kiss burned upon my lips and brought\na curious heat to my cheek.\n\nThere was a young paper started about this time by a Mr. Wright, who\nwas always promulgating some scheme for the public good. He was very\neager and earnest about public-school education, and the necessity for\nchildren, who were to be the future rulers of the State, to know what\ntheir duties were, and to be able to undertake them. Many improvements\nin old Chicago were owing to his fertile brain, and the energy and\nability to carry them through.\n\nThis particular one that interested father from its first inception\nwas the \"_Prairie Farmer_.\" At the head of it was this motto\u2014\"Farmers,\nwrite for your paper.\" All kinds of agricultural questions were asked\nand answered as correctly as possible for the limited knowledge of that\ntime. Experiences were exchanged\u2014the value of inventions and what might\nbe done by machinery. Some of those old ideas did get appropriated.\n\nFather told me to draw up the table and bring him pen and ink. He often\nlooked over and straightened up accounts. He kept every item and knew\nthe returns of different methods, always adopting the most profitable\none.\n\nThis kept him busy for a long time. He had a quill pen, and he chewed\nthe end of it, wrinkled up his brow, and shut his lips in a straight\nline so that you could hardly see the color. Somewhere in the afternoon\nhe asked me to read a rather discouraging article, and then said:\n\n\"Now listen to this, and it's no visionary thing either.\"\n\nHe read a very spirited reply. I recognized at once that some of it was\nhis own experience.\n\n\"Oh, father!\" I cried, delighted, \"you wrote it yourself. It's splendid!\nAnd you ought to have it printed.\"\n\n\"Good enough for that, eh?\" He gave his quizzical smile and twinkled\nhis eyes.\n\n\"Oh, yes; can't you have it put in the _Prairie Farmer_?\"\n\n\"Well,\" with a sort of amused deliberateness, \"I had thought a little of\nthat, since they are inviting plain farmer people to air their wisdom.\nDo you think you could copy it, not in a scratchy girl's hand, but one\neasy to read? Sit here and try. I'm tired and feel like a clock with its\nmachinery running down. By the great boot! I wonder if I am only to be\nhalf a man the rest of my life!\" and he gave a groan.\n\n\"But the better half is in good order, your head and your hands, and Dr.\nCarpenter is sure you will improve as soon as the weather is pleasant\nenough to get out.\"\n\nI arranged the little table just beside him. I was happy to see him so\ninterested. Then I began on odd slips of paper to see what I could do\nwriting large. Father looked them over. I suppose it would have made\na modern girl nervous, but we knew nothing about nerves in those days,\nand then I was so intent upon pleasing him. My whole heart had been full\nof sympathy all winter. I had never seen any one helpless before but a\nbaby.\n\n\"This I think will do. And you write only on one side of the paper.\"\n\n\"Oh, dear,\" I cried, aghast, \"think of all the paper it will take!\"\n\nHe made a funny little _moue_, as the French call it. Paper was dear\nand poor. Foolscap was in general use.\n\nI did not get along very fast, and presently the dark overtook me. So\nI put it away for the next day, but I was all impatience.\n\n\"Call Jolette to let me down a little. And then stir the fire.\"\n\nBoth were attended to. Then Ben ran in. He was going home to supper,\nand this was German evening. But he had two or three bits of brightness\nthat amused father.\n\nI finished the paper the next morning, and we folded it up and tied\nit with a cord, writing on the outside, \"To the Editor of the _Prairie\nFarmer_.\"\n\n\"Now, Ruth,\" he said, \"I wish you would take it down to the office. I\ndoubt if any one is in just at this time, and so much the better. Lay\nit on the desk in plain sight. And I dare say it will go into the waste\nbasket. But I believe that has been the result of some first efforts of\npeople who came up to fame afterwards. Don't stop to talk or explain,\nand I hope no one will see you. Then we won't get laughed at.\"\n\n\"If anybody laughs at that\"\u2014my face was scarlet and my eyes flashed\u2014I\ncould think of nothing bad enough for punishment.\n\n\"There, there, run along.\"\n\nMen were going to and fro to dinner. I threaded my way hurriedly, and\nhad a green veil tied over my face. Through Randolph Street, here it was\non the corner of an alley way, \"Prairie Farmer\" over the unpretentious\ndoor way. I peered in timidly. There was a clumsy-looking boy with very\nred cheeks sitting on a box and kicking his heels against it. There was\nalso a high square desk with four slim legs. I crossed over to this and\nlaid down the precious package.\n\n\"What cher want?\" exclaimed the boy gruffly. \"Folks gone ter dinner.\"\n\n\"Nothing,\" I replied. But before I had shut the door curiosity jumped\ndown with a thump and no doubt satisfied himself.\n\nFather was very well pleased with the adventure.\n\n\"Now, Little Girl,\" he said, giving my hand a squeeze, as if it was the\nsign of a conspiracy, \"don't say a word or give a hint to a living soul,\nnot Ben or Sophie. We'll see what comes next week.\"\n\nI laughed and nodded, and we crooked little fingers, and said, \"Honor\nbright.\"\n\nBut oh, what a long week it was. I think if later on I had written a\nbook and offered it to a publisher I couldn't have been more anxious.\nI looked over the back numbers, and it didn't seem as if the articles\nwere truly any better, though some took up a wider range.\n\nThose old papers were narrow and local. Boston, mayhap, might have begun\nintellectual, but there was too much work in Chicago in those early\nyears to indulge in flights of poesy or literary evolution. But they\nwere strong and earnest, full of boundless enterprise and ambition,\nand the romance was to come later. Indeed, the romance then outside of\nthe real business was marrying, having a home, and counting on what the\nchildren would do in the next generation. They did not think to build\ntheir Rome in a day, but they could lay foundations, stretch out arms\nthat would bring the great world in its grasp.\n\nI counted the days. Father said not a word about it. And I could hardly\nwait until afternoon. Cold as it was, I hung about the door-step and\nthen ran down to the sidewalk to meet the boy, who stared at me as if\nI was demented. I glanced down the outside\u2014oh, there it was. There was\na throb of joy in my heart and a rush of tears to my eyes. I hurried in\nand laid the paper on father's lap.\n\n\"Hello!\" he ejaculated.\n\nI went and mended the fire and stood there many minutes, it seemed to me.\n\n\"Well, they didn't take us to kindle the fire with, did they!\" His tone\nwas so light-hearted it was like the ringing of a joy bell, and it gave\nme a thrill.\n\n\"I'm a foolish old fellow and you're a foolish young thing, but I guess\nwe enjoy this bit of print, and there's no one to say we shan't. But\nthere's been lots of books and papers printed before we were thought\nof, and there will be after we are gone, and I s'pose each fellow will\nhave a moment of pleasure, so why shouldn't we enjoy ours?\"\n\nWe did enjoy it to the full. It was so sensible, so strong and\npractical, and full of a certain hope, assurance. And what gave us a\ngreater delight was these few words on the inside, in the column of\nqueries and items.\n\n\"Will John Farmer please send his address to this office? We commend\nhis article heartily to our readers.\"\n\n\"We won't shout it out on the housetops yet. Roofs are too slippery to\nclimb,\" and father laughed.\n\nIt was the best medicine he had for weeks. The sudden interest in a new\nchannel, taking him out of his dreary waiting, strengthened heart and\nbrain, if not body. It was a new resource.\n\nThe inquiry was answered, and to our surprise brought Mr. Wright\nhimself. He spent a whole morning with father, and had really known\nconsiderable about father's work and success. He was a most delightful\nman, and years afterward I appreciated him and his work more truly than\nany unformed girl could have done.\n\nHe asked father then to go on writing, to give his experiences and\nadvice. He, too, had boundless ambitions for Chicago, and his was the\nlarger insight for education and broader movements.\n\nHis sympathy was very cheering as well. He put new heart into father.\nAnd though less than a year afterward he was compelled by the stress\nof other matters, fully as important, to transfer the editorial helm\nto the Reverend Ambrose Wight, one letter in the name was not to make\nmuch difference. It was conducted with the same untiring zeal for local\nadvancement, the same strong common sense and sterling integrity. Father\nhad a warm friendship with him through a sorrowful time, and Ben Hayne\nfound in him a splendid practical adviser.\n\nAnd so spring opened. Father had some crutches and began to go out\na little. But the streets were still in a dreadful condition, though\nnow strenuous efforts were being made for some kind of pavements and\nsidewalks. As many people had raised their sidewalks two and three feet\nit was resolved to establish this grade. New houses were being built.\nHomer was rushed with business, and he wished Ben wasn't so booky. As a\nfirm they could make no end of money just now. It was hard to find good\nworkmen.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV\n\nA TURN IN THE LANE\n\n\nPoor father! My heart ached sorely for him. He suffered with his hip,\nand his leg was useless. He was still kept bandaged, and we hoped\npresently some improvement would happen to the joint. It was bitterly\nhard when he had been so active, so light of foot, so full of energy\nand hope. If it had not been for his writing now and then, I think he\nwould have lost heart entirely.\n\nBut something had to be done. He considered several projects and\ndiscussed them with Dan, who seemed to know a little of everything. An\noverseer\u2014but where could one find the right kind of man. Renting the\nplace on shares he objected to strenuously.\n\n\"If you could get about the overseer might do,\" commented Dan. \"But\nyou want some one up on the good points of stock, of grain, of soil,\nof everything in fact, or else some one willing to study your methods,\nwhich have been a success. Well\u2014I don't see how you stand it. I should\nmake the whole atmosphere of the town blue and sulphurous,\" laughing\nwith hearty good nature, yet with evident energy.\n\n\"Can you make one stalk of corn bear five ears? If so swear,\" said\nfather with a dubious half frown, half smile. \"I have found that even\na horse well brought up doesn't like to be sworn at. A mule may stand\nit. He can kick back.\"\n\n\"Do you swear at Chita?\" I asked.\n\n\"Chita!\" What a wealth of tenderness there was in the tone. \"I'd about\nas quick strike her a blow, and I'd deserve to be horsewhipped if I did\neither.\"\n\nDan was a handsome, manly fellow. Even of all that came afterward I must\nadmit it, though in this hardly more than girlhood I was not considering\nindividual men. There were many in Chicago who were tall and strong and\nvigorous. Father was only medium size, and with no striking good looks,\nthough he had a trusty, honest, shrewd and rather humorous face. But\nI loved him dearly. I could have gone to sleep in his arms as I had on\nthat long journey from Massachusetts to Illinois, and now that he was\nunfortunate I knew I should never leave him.\n\nDan's figure while large was supple in its quick movements\u2014lithe is the\nterm, I suppose. He had the most fascinating air of laziness and ease.\nI have seen him throw himself on the grass with a grace that would\nhave moved a sculptor to envy, and the manner in which he tossed his\nhead back and laughed tempted me to save up the funny little household\nincidents and jests, and the quips I saw in the paper, just for the sake\nof the merry ring. There was the boyish surrender to fun, the delight in\nlife that was really infectious. As a little girl I had felt afraid of\nhim, there were moods now that made me tremble, there were glances of\nhis eyes so deep, so eager that I felt a helpless captive with a wild,\nunavailing desire for flight. Then always recurred to me the night of\nthe wild ride and how his arm had held me like a vice.\n\nHis hair was dark and fine and thick, with the ends curling a little. In\nthe winter he wore a beard, in the summer shaved it off. He had a fine\nspirited nose, with flexible nostrils that made me think of Chita, and\na beautiful upper lip, such as the old Latin poets gave to their women.\nWhen I came to read them Dan used to rise before me. He had a broad chin\nwith a dimple in it, which he really hated. \"It was good enough for a\ngirl!\" he would say disdainfully.\n\nWith all his kindness through the winter, I had come to be very\ngrateful, and we were delightful friends, but on my part friends only.\nI could not imagine Sophie or Nanette with such a husband. I sometimes\non Sunday interested myself curiously in thinking which of the grown-up\nyoung ladies he would marry. He called at the Doles quite often and took\nout Miss Alleta, who would have made a very striking Mrs. Dan Hayne.\nThen Martha Campbell was always extremely cordial to him and rumor said\nshe would not be averse to more regular attentions. He was a prosperous\nyoung fellow, and though his trades were generally advantageous, no\none ever accused him of unfair dealing. I do not believe he would have\ncheated any one out of a dollar, not from high principle but because he\nthought it mean, and meanness he abhorred.\n\nOut of all the talk father and Dan came to a business arrangement. It\nwas a great relief. Homer went over to Mrs. Morrison's, and after a\ngood deal of haggling, bought the wheeling chair granny had used, so\nfather could get about by himself, for his arms were strong, and there\nwas an attachment at the side, lever-like, that could be propelled by\nthe occupant.\n\nLooking back at this summer it was a happy one. I was not much confined\nat home. Somehow I shifted the care of father on Dan. I spent a day now\nand then with Sophie, the baby was so utterly charming, beginning to say\nlittle words that we understood perfectly. Mother Hayne and Chris were\nalso very pleasant. Chris had joined the church in the winter and his\ninmost desire was to be a clergyman. He had a really beautiful voice. On\nSundays I used to stop\u2014there were always some men in to see father\u2014and\nsitting out on the old porch, much renovated and rose grown now, we used\nto sing the old Methodist hymns that I can never hear without the tears\ncoming into my eyes.\n\n     \"Oh, how happy are they\n     Who their Saviour obey,\n       And have laid up their treasure above,\"\n\nand\n\n     \"Come thou fount of every blessing,\n       Tune my heart to sing thy grace,\n     Streams of mercy without ceasing,\n       Call for songs of loudest praise,\"\n\nto the old tune of Greenville. There was still another:\n\n     \"The Lord into His garden comes,\n     The spices yield their sweet perfume,\n     The lilies grow and thrive\u2014\u2014\"\n\nAre there any new hymns now that bring heaven so near?\n\nMr. Hayne did not take cordially to the project. He could understand\nBen's ambition, and looked to see him either a governor or a senator\nat middle life, but ministers were not likely to make fortunes. Chris\ntold me his dreams, and not a few of them found lodgment in his mother's\nheart.\n\nAs for Norman, his lot in life seemed to be settled. Mr. Le Moyne was\ndependent upon him and loved him like a son. When Ben confessed his\nambitions to his brother, Norman advised him to prepare for college and\nenter Harvard, as that had an excellent law school as well. He would\nsend him two hundred dollars a year until he was through.\n\n\"Isn't that the loveliest and most generous thing in the world!\" and\nthe tears stood in Ben's eyes when he told me, beautiful brown eyes they\nwere. \"Norman's a solid brick. I think I can get through in five years,\nand this year to prepare. I should hate dreadfully to leave dear old\nChicago and all of you. But I could come back in vacation if I thought\nit best.\"\n\n\"It's just splendid. And then Boston is\u2014is so different, and has so much\nin it\"\u2014and I paused, for my ideas of Boston were extremely vague.\n\n\"And she wasn't so wonderful when she was only thirty years old. And now\nwhen you think of the canal that gives us the key to the Mississippi,\nthe Sault Ste. Marie planned, the railroads that in a dozen years more\nwill be an accomplished fact\u2014why, we shall be the centre of everything.\"\n\nWe were enthusiastic, not mere braggarts. And the years showed the\nwildest dreams were possible, though so much of it had to be made by\nhuman hands.\n\n\"Six years. It is a long while to wait, isn't it?\" he continued\nmusingly. \"Then you will be\u2014\u2014\" studying me intently.\n\n\"I shall be twenty-one. Oh, Ben, please don't think of that,\" I\nentreated, for I could guess what was in his mind.\n\n\"It wouldn't be fair unless you cared very much. Then, I think, it would\nbe hard to have your lover so far away and miss all the sweetness of\ncourtship. You see, I should be so engrossed I shouldn't have time for\nsociety, and could not keep thinking of you. But I don't believe you\nare really in love, Ruth. We are more like brother and sister.\"\n\n\"That is it,\" I cried. \"And I do not think I shall marry at all, and\nthat is why all you Hayne boys will be so dear to me. For now you see\nfather will need me. I do not suppose he can ever be quite well again,\nand he has come to depend on me for so many things. And I shall try to\nbe very happy.\"\n\n\"You are a darling!\" He caught my hand and kissed it. \"And you see we\ncan tell better then than now, I shall hope it will come about some way,\nfor I shall never find any one I like as well as you.\"\n\n\"Why, I shall be almost an old maid then,\" with an hysterical sort of\nlaugh, yet a pang for lost youth. Girls in the new countries married\nyoung. \"And I may be queer\u2014\u2014\"\n\n\"You will never be anything but sweet to me, a dear little girl, but it\nis best that you should be quite free. If it was ten years and I came\nback I know I should love you, for I should feel then that I had the\nsupreme right, that there was no one to dispute me.\"\n\nDear, brave, loyal Ben. Never girl or woman had a truer friend.\n\nIt was by Mr. Wight's advice that Ben went to a preparatory school that\nautumn, since he had fully decided on his course, and we had no regular\nsystematic training for college then.\n\nEverything went on well, only father did not improve much. But his\nwriting was a great delight to him, and papers at a distance spoke of\nJohn Farmer's trenchant articles, which pleased him immensely.\n\nTo be sure he and Dan did not always agree, but they gave and took, and\nso seemed to get along pretty well. I do not know what father would have\ndone without him.\n\nIt would not be possible to be brought into such familiar contact with\na man and not lapse into a certain intimacy, I suppose, especially as\nhe had charming moods. He was so much older that I always thought of\nhis marrying some one eighteen or twenty, and of the families of note.\nWe sparred and jested, he praised my cooking at times, he thought I\nhad such pretty, householdy ways, and that I loved father, which I did.\nWhen I went to Sophie's or Mrs. Hayne's he came for me in the evening.\nAnd one picnic we had he took a team and a big wagon, and had no end of\nfun giving the girls, little and big, a drive. Miss Campbell was really\ndevoted to him that day.\n\nSomehow, I thought of Polly Morrison, though Miss Campbell did nothing\npronounced, nor ordered Dan about as Polly used to do.\n\nMrs. Morrison had spent some months with her. Polly was like a queen.\nMr. Maseurier had no end of slaves on his sugar plantation, and some\nwere up to the great house. Both sons were married, one settled at New\nOrleans, the other in Vincennes. There seemed a great deal of gayety at\nthat place, and Kaskaskia and Polly was in the midst of it.\n\nThen there was a kind of all-day camp meeting in the woods, and Chris\nand I had a very happy time. Oh, the beautiful singing! I was almost\nimpatient at the addresses and the praying.\n\nI had, too, this summer a pretty flower garden of my own. Dan brought\nme some geraniums which I had never seen before. I did delight in it,\nand I used to keep the blossoms in the house. The first time I had a\nbowl full father said, \"That's like old times. Your mother was so fond\nof flowers.\"\n\n\"Oh, do tell me about mother,\" I cried, hanging over the arm of his\nchair.\n\n\"There isn't much to tell, dear. We had three happy years. We were\nyoung and poor, and very hard worked. And one of the drawbacks to this\nprosperity is that she is not here to share it.\"\n\nHis voice fell to a tender solemnity, and I felt awed. I shuddered at\nthe thought of death.\n\nThen Dan began to take me out driving. He had another horse, but he\nseldom drove Chita except by herself in a kind of sulky. Sam was larger,\nand one of father's horses matched him. There was another odd thing,\nhe did not treat me so like a child, though he was very sweet and less\nimperious. I liked him better, but there was a mysterious feeling that\nI could not explain. Still fifteen is generally not analytical, and in\nthose days the frank, free life had not made us introspective.\n\nThe crops had been fairly good. Father I found had rather given up any\nhope of entire recovery, but he was not despondent. We had drawn so much\nnearer together, and I was taking such an interest in his articles. I\nwas getting to be quite a theoretic farmer.\n\nOne autumn evening, it was raining very hard, a perfect deluge. No one\ncame in. In fact, the east wind blew such a hurricane off the lake that\na pedestrian could hardly keep on his feet. We had a splendid fire, and\nthere was a box of geraniums in the window full of scarlet bloom.\n\n\"Come and sit here,\" said father, motioning to the arm of the chair.\n\nIt was broad, and he could use it for a writing desk. It was a favorite\nseat of mine. I put my arm around his neck and kissed him on the\nforehead.\n\n\"Little Girl,\" he began, \"we love each other very much. We have no near\nof kin, it is just you and I.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I made answer. \"But there are all the Haynes, and Sophie, and\nseveral of the girls that I make believe are cousins.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"And we must never separate, I think. I couldn't live\nwithout you.\"\n\n\"Oh, father, no! no!\" I cried, with passionate emphasis.\n\n\"But suppose in a year or two some man wants to marry you, or rather\nthat you fall in love. And\u2014after all, love is the best thing in a\nwoman's life. You see, the old people do not live forever.\"\n\n\"Oh, father, you must not, shall not die! If you did I should drown\nmyself in the lake,\" and I put my wet cheek down to his.\n\n\"There, dear. I am not thinking of dying. Indeed this last month my hip\nhas felt stronger, and I am quite myself. But I am a good many years\nolder than you, and naturally would go first.\"\n\n\"Oh, do not let us think of it. I cannot bear it,\" I pleaded, with every\npulse in a tumult.\n\n\"Under some circumstances I should like to see you married. You were\nnot in love with Homer, and some one else was.\"\n\n\"And there has been Ben.\" Then I confessed that episode, which he had\nnot even mistrusted.\n\n\"The third time is fatal, I believe.\" There was a half laughter in his\neyes, yet a tender gravity as he looked earnestly at me, and my cheeks\nburned.\n\n\"Do you care for Ben? Do you want to be engaged?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no! I like Ben very much, but no, I do not want to marry\nhim\u2014ever,\" I said incoherently, but with decision.\n\n\"Listen, Little Girl. I cannot get along alone. If you were five years\nolder and a strong, robust woman I might train you for an assistant.\nI have known women at home who cared for a farm and reared a family of\nchildren. But you are too young, and the conditions here are too wild,\ntoo unformed, too severe. They need a man's strength and resolution to\ngrapple with them. I have made a good start and am on the high road to\nsuccess, only now I cannot follow it up. I see that, although I have\nfought against the conviction. Either I must give up and step out, or\nhave some one to assist me who will take an interest, and whose interest\nwill be the same as mine.\"\n\n\"But will not Dan do it?\" I inquired, innocently. \"You and he get on\npretty well.\"\n\n\"He has proposed to on one condition. And that is\u2014my little girl.\"\n\nHis tone was low and he pressed me closer.\n\n\"Oh, you don't mean\u2014\" I cried in a kind of terror. \"You can't mean\u2014\"\n\n\"He has asked me if I would object to his trying to win you. There\nneed be no hurry. He is a smart, bright fellow with lots of energy and\npush, and it does seem as if everything he takes hold of succeeds. In\nthis case we would go on together. Our interests would be identical. We\nshould both love you. I shouldn't feel afraid then that you would be\nleft without a protector, if any untoward event happened to me. But I\nam not going to urge you. I think he must care for you, since there are\nother girls with much richer fathers that I am sure would accept him\nfor the asking. You may think about it.\"\n\n\"But I don't want to marry any one,\" I protested in great tumult of soul.\n\n\"You are so young. Yet it is rather queer you have not fancied any of\nthese boys,\" and he gave a soft chuckle, as if it rather amused him.\n\"Their mother cares so much for you, too. If I could be well again we\nwould snap our fingers at them all. But farming needs the head to be\nable to get about here and there and keep matters up sharp. Well, well,\nI suppose we have to accept what comes,\" with a long sigh.\n\n\"It is very hard,\" I returned. \"And yet you are so well otherwise, and\nnot old.\"\n\n\"No; if I were ten years older I would resign myself to my fate without\ngrumbling.\"\n\n\"But I do not want you any older.\"\n\n\"And you would be over twenty-five.\"\n\n\"A horrid old maid,\" I ejaculated. Single women were not held in high\nesteem in those days. There was a great need of wives, indeed many a\nfirst wife died of overwork or over ambition, and more men than women\nimmigrated from the older States. Only the very undesirable were left\nbehind. Of course I should be married sometime.\n\nBut it seemed strange to think of Dan Hayne as a husband. He was so much\nolder. He rightly belonged to the girls of eighteen or twenty. But after\nI was in bed, and I could not sleep readily, I thought of the kind of\nson father needed. A man in store business or a mechanic of any kind\nwould be of little service to him. Dan was buying and selling property\nand stock, went round to the near-by settlements, was considered a\ngood judge of many things, and had friends on every hand, though he was\nmasterful and at times high tempered. He was a gay young \"buck\" as they\ntermed it then, but marriage was supposed to settle a man.\n\nThe figure of Polly Morrison flashed up before me. Why, I could not\ntell, for I had not thought of her until she appeared like a strange,\nsplendid vision. There was a mocking light in her glittering eyes. Why\ndid she not forbid the bans? She only smiled in a sort of triumph.\n\nThe next morning Nanette came for me to go shopping with her, and though\nwe had not a very extensive array of stores, still we had a nice variety\nof goods. Some of the older people thought there was too much catering\nto the pride of life. We made one or two calls, we chatted with the\nclerks we knew, and when I reached home Dan was just going away. He and\nfather had been examining some business papers. We merely spoke. I ran\nin the kitchen to hurry Jolette about the dinner.\n\nChris came in the next morning. There was a wonderful preacher from\nEngland who could give our town but this one evening. Mrs. Hayne wanted\nme to come over to supper and we would both go. \"And I'll see you home,\"\nsaid Chris, \"if you can't stay all night.\"\n\nI kissed father and went away. We had grown so much more caressing since\nhis hurt. There was another neighbor in to tea. We started early and it\nwas well we did, for before service time the church was packed.\n\nAs I said, I liked the full, hearty singing. The strange clergyman\nhad a rather imposing presence. I may as well confess that I was not\nparticularly fond of sermons, but after a little I became strangely\ninterested in this. There was the heroic self-sacrifice in it that\nappeals strongly to youth, taking up the duty set plainly before one and\nnot making mean and shifty evasions. But unless the sacrifice or the\nwork had some high purpose in view for God or the neighbor, it was in\nvain and useless. We were to help in the daily life that God gave us,\nto live out at our very best and truest. Simply praying for our neighbor\nwas not all, when there was something to do.\n\nI think I lost sight of the spiritual application. I kept looking at a\nthing that seemed set before me to do, and it grew clearer and clearer\neven if I did shrink from it. I was to trust to the promise\u2014\"My grace\nshall be sufficient.\" I was moved, exalted. I can do the sermon no sort\nof justice, but every one for weeks afterward talked of it, and Chris\nwas most enthusiastic.\n\nWhen we came home father and Dan were playing checkers, and they were\nboth excellent players. Father held up his finger and merely nodded to\nChris, who said good-night, for he knew how Dan hated to be interrupted\nin a game. I came and stood by them. This was the rubber, each had won\none game. They were almost at the last and so evenly balanced that it\nseemed to me there was something more at stake than a mere king row.\nA human soul was to be crowned or\u2014Is there such a determining power as\nfate? If father won I should be free, if Dan, I should, I must be his\nwife. I watched with strained eyes. Fingers were hardly touched, then\nlifted. Father's forehead seemed gathered in a knot, Dan's face was\nsmiling with that wonderful ease he had, the French call it insouciance.\nFather moved\u2014Dan's last man went into the king row, and Dan smiled over\nat me.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV\n\nHOW MUCH WAS LOVE?\n\n\nWe went on just the same for a week or two, friendly, pleasant, but some\ninfluence I could not shake off drew me nearer. Even now I suppose Dan\nwas a fascinating man, since girls yielded so readily to his sway and\nolder women made friends with him.\n\nIt was the full of the harvest moon, a magnificent, glowing night. There\nwere some corn-husking bees to wind up with a dance in a new barn. There\nwere boats going out rowing, for the lake was like a sea of glass.\nDan really hated the water\u2014I loved it dearly, but the great lake was\noccasionally deceitful at its blandest, and often a monster in its power\nto small craft. The larger vessels were safe enough. Father and I took\na sail now and then, but Dan never went for pleasure.\n\n\"Ruth,\" he said this evening, \"do you remember the ride you once had on\nChita? Come out and take another. There may not be a night like this in\na year again.\"\n\n\"Oh, I was such a little girl then. And we cannot both ride her now,\"\nI protested.\n\n\"Why not?\" In the moon floods of light his eyes transfixed me.\n\n\"Because I am so much larger. And you have grown stouter.\"\n\nHe laughed. \"See here,\" and catching me with one hand he whirled me off\nthe steps and clear around.\n\n\"You weigh about seventy-five pounds,\" gravely. \"If I asked Chita to\ncarry seventy-five pounds of grain and my stoutness she would go off\nlike a bird.\"\n\n\"I weigh ninety-two,\" I returned with dignity.\n\n\"If it was ninety-four you would have to ride all the same,\" in a\ndetermined tone. \"Do you want anything about you? But it is like a\nsummer night. Come, I told your father I was going to take you. Or would\nyou rather go to the dance?\"\n\n\"Suppose I would?\" I said saucily.\n\n\"We could go to the dance afterward.\"\n\nFor a week we had gone on as if nothing had happened. But every day the\nduty had grown clearer to me. Here was the son father needed. I could\nmake all of his life easier. He was the dearest person in the world to\nme, and why should I not think of him first? There seemed two sides to\nme, which there would not have been if I had loved and understood truly\nwhat marriage meant, that it was not all father's comfort and interest.\n\n\"Come.\" He sprang on Chita. Then he made a sudden decisive motion with\nhis arm, and gathered me up in front of him.\n\n\"I should have a pillion,\" I began complainingly.\n\n\"I want you here, just here, where I can see you and cannot lose you.\nIf I did, your father would beat out my brains with his crutch, and I\nwould deserve it. There, are you comfortable?\"\n\nHe settled me and placed his arm tightly about me, turning Chita with\nhis right hand.\n\n\"I am very uncomfortable,\" I retorted petulantly.\n\n\"You won't mind it in a moment when we get out of this beastly street.\"\n\n\"Oh, don't!\" I tried to loosen his arm. \"I can't get my breath. I don't\nwant to go.\"\n\n\"Will that do? I want you to be comfortable and happy. Five different\ngirls have asked me to the dance to-night. Four of them would have been\nmiserable if I had confined my attentions to one, and the whole five\nwould have been indignant if I had distributed them impartially. And\nyou are ungrateful.\"\n\nSomething in his tone touched me. After a pause he said, \"And you have\nthem all. Ruth, I want you to love me with your whole soul and body. I\nwant you to marry me.\"\n\n\"There is Miss Campbell and Miss Conover. Think how much finer looking\nthey are. Oh, I can't think why you should want to marry me.\"\n\n\"Well, queer as it may seem, and indifferent as you are now, there are\nsome other points. I want you. I've resolved to win you, and shall do my\nbest. And your father needs my assistance, may for some time to come.\nCan't we three pull together? You are not old enough to have loved any\none else, you don't know anything about love, you little white blossom,\nso I shall teach you. Your father has consented.\"\n\nI felt as if a net was drawn around me. Did I want to escape and leave\nfather to suffer all sorts of anxieties? Here was some one strong\nenough, willing enough to shoulder them.\n\n\"Oh, I don't know\u2014I don't know!\"\n\n\"You don't love Ben,\" he declared fiercely. \"It would be folly to wait\nall those years.\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no,\" I cried.\n\n\"And mother had a half hope Homer would wait for you. You see I know\nthe family plans. Chris is too young even for _you_ to wait.\"\n\nThere _was_ another. But it might be years before we should see him. And\nhe would have changed in all that grand life. He was learning so much\nthat we common people would seem beneath him.\n\n\"Chita!\" How tender the tone was!\n\nAt the word she was off, for we had left the crooked, uneven streets\nbehind us. What a night it was! You could see the mountains of the moon\ntraced out in vague darkness, and the rest in glorious effulgence. Some\nplanets were visible, but she seemed to outshine the starry crowd,\nand veil the blue of the sky in a silver haze. Great far reaches of\nprairie like a sea, the stubble holding a gem on every little twig.\nFrom somewhere came a waft of wild grape, but it was so dry there was\nvery little dew. The crunch of Chita's hoofs made a regular beat of\nmusic, but around all was a hush of emptiness, a kind of mystery that\nallured yet filled one with terror at its very solemnity, an atmosphere\nof strange enchantment, as if one could ride on to another world. Was\nI going on to a strange new world?\n\n\"Isn't it splendid! I sometimes come out here alone, in fact, though\nI've ridden children on Chita, I've never taken one of the older girls\nout in this boundless solitude. Chita and I keep our secrets together.\nWhat do you suppose is beyond? Oh, must every one die in the end and go\nto that strange country? Wouldn't you hate to die, Little Girl? I want\na long life of pleasure and love, and business activities and money\nmaking, and I wish I could never grow old. Why can't one slough off the\nold body when it gets feeble, and have a new vigorous one right here,\nwith this glorious life. What do we know about any other world?\"\n\nI was transfixed by some subtle power. Indeed, I hardly knew what he\nsaid half the time, I was so penetrated by some strange influence.\nI thought I would like to be in that other country and have no more\nperplexities.\n\nWe turned at length, and for the first part went like the wind. Was\nChita a creature of steel nerves and sinews? I caught Dan's arm.\n\n\"Are you afraid? Ruth, I wouldn't have any harm come to you for my own\nlife. And what is there about you, slim little thing, only half awake\nto the real meanings of life! But you will know them all some day, and\nI shall be your teacher.\"\n\nHow exultant his tone was!\n\nWhen we reached home father was in bed, tired and lonely was all he\nwould admit. Dan was very eager to know if he could do anything, but\nfather said no, he had some bad twinges in his hip and back, and Jolette\nhad heated some flannels in whiskey and laid them on. He would soon fall\nasleep and forget it.\n\n\"He was around a little too much to-day,\" said Dan.\n\nI went to the door with him and he almost crushed me in his arms and\nkissed away my breath. I felt helpless in this vehemence, yet I had to\nadmit now that he was my lover, would one day be my husband. Could I be\nas glad and happy as most of the girls were?\n\nI went back to father's bedside. Oh, what should I ever do without him.\nYes, it was my duty to do what I could for his comfort. That thought\ninspired me. To prolong his life!\n\nI was not altogether a meek sweetheart. There were times when I feared\nand resented Dan's assumed authority. Once I said, in some rather heated\nargument:\n\n\"Oh, I am not compelled to marry you. I might say no, even when the\nminister asked me.\"\n\n\"You will love me so much by that time you will not want to,\" and his\nlaugh was tantalizing.\n\nHe took it for granted that I should love him even as he desired. I\nwould not have any one told, even his mother, and I declared I was not\nengaged until I had promised to marry him. I think now he liked the\nsecrecy. It did not make any outward change in my life. I had a number\nof my young friends in on my birthday. I was sixteen and we had a merry\ntime. Father brought out some of his best quips and told some funny\nYankee stories.\n\n\"You'll have a better time without me,\" Dan said, and I think _I_ did.\nThere was no need of self-consciousness or embarrassment.\n\nFather had a new plan that interested him strongly. This was building\na house for me, for us all, but it was to be mine, farther away from\nthe river, nearer the lake and on higher ground. It was afterward\nto be Washington Square. He had taken quite a plot of ground there a\nyear or so before he was hurt, in the way of trade. We had a good deal\nof amusement planning it. It was to be of brick, full two stories,\nbut with a peaked roof. He would have two rooms on the lower floor,\na sort of office and a sleeping-room. We would have a real parlor, a\ndining-room\u2014living-room we called it then\u2014and a commodious kitchen.\nThere was room for a vegetable garden, a hennery, and some flowers. Pigs\nwere at last debarred from the streets. Father raised so many now that\nhe had a separate enclosure. Some people were trying to raise sheep and\nmaking quite a success, only there were at times forays of wolves, when\nevery one turned out for a wolf hunt.\n\nThe old house was to be built on and turned into stores. Business was\nincreasing on every side. The terms of peace with Mexico were arranged\nearly in the new year. For the territory ceded we were to pay fifteen\nmillions. There were bitter arguments pro and con. One party was\nresolutely against our having any more land, we were large enough now,\nwe had not settled half the country we did own. The other side pointed\nout the advantage the Louisiana purchase had been. Of course we needed\nthe Mississippi River, but this wild land, overrun with Mexicans and\nIndians, would be more plague than profit.\n\nFather was in favor of having all we could get.\n\nThe spring came early that year. We had discovered in our county a fine\nbed of clay and were making brick. All our lumber had to be brought from\na distance.\n\nI liked the new situation very much, only it was so far from the dear\nold friends. But it would be more convenient for father, and he had\nfaith that the city would push up this way. We could see the lake, there\nwere so few houses between.\n\nI said first I would not be married until I was in the new house, but\nthere were reasons why it seemed best not to wait, and when people once\nbegan to suspect Dan admitted the truth. We told his mother first of\nall, and her joy really brought tears to my eyes.\n\n\"I have always coveted you,\" she confessed, \"though I should have picked\nout any one of them sooner than Dan, but I think he has about sowed all\nhis wild oats, and you and your father will be a sort of ballast. I used\nto think you and Norman would make a match, but he's so weaned away, and\nhe never could content himself here, I know. I expect to hear in every\nletter that he has married a grand lady. I suppose you could have waited\nfor Ben, but that would have taken years. Dan does love you.\"\n\nI had never thought of marrying Norman, for when I was old enough to\nspeculate on such matters, I felt he had gone to the higher round above\nme in education, accomplishments, and I was afraid he would despise the\ncrude, unhandsome town after the splendid cities of the Old World. That\nwas something out of my reach, so I could love the old life with him in\nit like a story where the incidents and characters were firmly enwrought\nin one's mind.\n\nOur courtship had been rather curious. At times Dan's impetuousity\nswept me off my bearings and I could do nothing but yield. I had a\nvague feeling it was his overpowering domination, rather than anything\nI wanted to give. There were moments when it seemed as if I did not\nlike love, and would fain run anywhere to escape it. Since father\nwas very well content I would make myself so. And Mother Hayne said\nlaughingly\u2014\"Men get over this tremendous love making after marriage and\nsettle down into reasonable beings.\"\n\nFather said we would get all the furnishing stuff when we were in the\nnew house. We could tell better what we wanted.\n\nI wished I had the courage to be married in church with the ceremony\nSophie had. But I was not a Catholic, and I should have had to fight for\nsuch a thing. Dan wanted to be married quietly at home. But I coaxed\nMother Hayne over to my views, and we settled upon the old Methodist\nChurch.\n\n\"I shall be married there or not at all!\" I said to Dan decidedly.\n\nSo we were married in the new Methodist Church on Washington Street, at\nnoon, and I had three bridesmaids. My gown was white Suisse with plenty\nof lace, and Dan gave a dinner at the hotel. It was very merry and\npleasant. Healths were proffered, good wishes and kisses, for everybody\nkissed a bride then. I think Dan glowered a little over this. He had\nto take a good deal of chaffing and I was advised to \"keep him with a\npretty tight rein and make him toe the mark.\" There was the old joke\nof starting him out in the morning to kindle the fire, and having him\nsplit the kindlings and bring the water.\n\nThe infare was to be at our new house, and invitations were scattered\nfreely.\n\nI wondered if there were any heart burnings among the girls. I did not\nfeel at all elated that I had captured him. Rather he had captured me.\nI could say honestly I had never made an effort.\n\nThen we returned home to our little old house and had to take a horrible\nserenade. Dan went out and made a speech, gave the ringleader of the\nparty some money and quiet was restored.\n\nA fortnight after that we moved. Dan's mother gave him a feather bed and\npillows, two heavy blankets and two light ones and six teaspoons that\nhad been her mother's. She thought the oldest son ought to have them,\nand a tablecloth that had been in her wedding outfit.\n\nThe new house was very nice and comfortable, but a modern bride would\nhave rather disdained it. The infare was a success. After that we were\nlet to go our way, for there were several other brides, Miss Campbell\nbeing one, and she had married a promising young lawyer.\n\nFather improved a good deal that summer. Jolette had gone with us and\nthere was a half-grown boy who did chores, worked in the garden and went\nhome nights.\n\nBefore father had finished his stores he was offered such an\nadvantageous price for them that he sold and reinvested in land farther\nout. Dan hardly considered that wise.\n\n\"Everybody thought I was bit with the old Towner place,\" and father\nlaughed. \"The city is going to stretch out, and the lake shore is going\nto be valuable.\"\n\n\"Was I happy and in love?\" Truly I could not tell. I counted on the time\nwhen Dan's vehemence should be toned down. He bought a pretty new horse,\nbroken for a lady's riding, and we used to have splendid gallops.\n\nNorman Hayne was travelling in Prussia and Russia. Ben entered Harvard.\nI think he did not altogether approve my marriage, but I gave him good\nreasons for it. Homer had a little son. Everybody seemed prosperous,\nthough there were troublous times about money.\n\nThe world was set ablaze then about the wonderful discovery of gold in\nCalifornia, the dream of the old Spanish explorers. Men rushed to the\ngold fields in perfect armies. And now we felt as a nation there was a\ngreat deal of grandeur in owning from ocean to ocean. Marvels were told\nof the western coast.\n\nI settled down into a housewifely body. Father said now and then, \"Oh,\nthat is so like your mother.\"\n\nHe could not discard his crutches. He still kept up his interest\nin the _Prairie Farmer_, and had begun to write other articles. The\nwater works were occupying a good deal of attention. The lead mines\nwere inexhaustible. Yet it took almost a week to get to New York. The\nIllinois and Michigan canal was opened. There were some brick buildings,\nand two aristocratic blue limestone ones that were pointed out as\ncuriosities, having been built of stone that had been brought in ballast\nfrom the lower lakes. Michigan Avenue that was.\n\nThe Chicago River was being widened. Sidewalks were laid as the streets\nwere filled up. Old Chicago was passing away, just as the Little Girl\nhad vanished, though father often used the name. Dan had given me all\nsorts of pet names at first, then he settled down to Ruth.\n\nAnd so a year passed, two years. Dan was much interested in city\naffairs, father was making money in the old ways. We had settled down,\nand I supposed I had all the happiness that comes to married life. No,\nnot all. There was no child to gladden our hearts and draw us together.\nHomer had another little boy.\n\nIn the third year of our married life an incident happened that,\nperhaps, was an entering wedge in the dissatisfaction that came\nafterwards. One day father received a letter from a cousin who had\nmarried another cousin by the name of Gaynor. She had been left a widow\nsome years before. The homestead had been willed to the eldest son,\nsubject to her life-right in four rooms one side of the hall, and her\nliving from the farm. The three daughters between had married, there\nwas one son, now sixteen, who did not get on at all well with his elder\nbrother. He was a smart, bright boy, with a fair education. Now, he was\nwild to go to California, but she could not bear to think of the rough\nlife and the temptations, so she was emboldened to write to her cousin,\nwho she heard had done well in Chicago. \"Could he put John in the way\nof anything?\"\n\nThere was an appeal to old memories that touched me. Father so seldom\nmentioned his people.\n\n\"That's queer, isn't it?\" he said, looking up with a dry sort of smile.\n\"John Gaynor! Why, I had forgotten that I had a namesake.\"\n\n\"You might send for him,\" I suggested. \"Sixteen. And if he is a nice\nboy\u2014why do you give that absent sort of smile?\"\n\n\"I was thinking. When I was a young fellow of nineteen or so I\nfell headlong in love with a second cousin, Sarah Parks. She was\ntwenty-three. She reasoned me mostly out of it, and I found she had a\nfancy for an own cousin, Luther Gaynor. So she married him. Then I went\nto the western part of the State, and when I had managed to get a little\ntogether, married your mother. She sent me a paper with a notice of her\nhusband's death, seven or eight years ago, and I wrote her a letter. It\nis odd how the old things come back to you. I recovered from my penchant\nfor Sarah when she settled into a regular common farmer's wife.\"\n\n\"Then first love isn't always the best or truest,\" I said thoughtfully.\n\n\"That wasn't love, but a boyish fancy. I'm glad to hear, though. I\nwonder what this young John Gaynor is like?\"\n\n\"Suppose you do send for him. If we shouldn't like him\u2014but you may find\nsomething for him to do. And if he isn't worth anything you can pack\nhim off home again.\"\n\n\"You can plan clear to the end, Ruth,\" and he laughed. \"Well, we'll see.\"\n\nDan had gone to Galena, as he had some lead interests. Mr. Bayne, from\nthe _Farmer_, dropped in that evening. After some newspaper talk he\nsaid:\n\n\"I don't suppose you know any nice, likely boy, Gaynor, that we could\nget in the office to learn the trade. Ours is as slow as molasses in\nJanuary, and never can learn to set type. That Chris Hayne would be\nfine, but he has his heart set upon being a parson.\"\n\n\"Well, that's queer!\" Father looked at me and made a funny face. \"I have\na namesake in Massachusetts who wants to come West.\"\n\n\"Yankee boys are generally bright and good spellers. You want one in\na newspaper office. If he's worth his salt we'll take him, and let him\nearn bread and butter besides.\"\n\n\"John Gaynor. That's a good solid name,\" and father's eyes twinkled\nmirthfully.\n\n\"If he takes after you he's just the fellow to come to Chicago,\" was\nthe reply.\n\nFather nodded. \"I guess I'll send.\"\n\n\"Do, do,\" was the eager response.\n\nThe very next day father Hayne was taken violently ill. I went down\nthere and found Sophie trying to comfort mother. What should we do\u2014send\nfor Dan?\n\n\"Wait until to-morrow and see what the doctor says,\" returned the\nanxious wife.\n\nTwo of the neighbors were in, and I felt I must go home for the night,\nas I could be of no real assistance. But I was deeply troubled.\n\nThe next day we sent a messenger for Dan.\n\nIt did not seem that a strong, hearty man could fail so rapidly. But\nthe disease was stronger, and in ten days Homer Hayne took the last\njourney, and lay in the best room, dead. Dan had come home in time, but\nhis father was delirious until he went into a stupor, not knowing any\none the last few days.\n\nIt was a dreadful shock to us all. Poor mother was beside herself with\ngrief. There was a very sympathetic obituary notice in the papers.\nHe had been a good, upright citizen, if he had not filled a very high\nplace. And he had given the country five fine sons.\n\n\"That of itself is a great thing,\" declared father.\n\nSophie took the poor widow home for a few days. She was the tenderest\nof daughters. I would have been glad to do it, but grandmother was so\nfond of the children, we thought they would cheer her.\n\nWe wondered what she would like to do.\n\n\"Oh, I must keep my own home,\" she said. \"I have Chris left.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" determined Dan. \"That is best for the present. Father did not\nmake a will, but not one of us would be mean enough to want to rob her\nof her home. She worked for it as well as father.\"\n\nI was glad to hear him say that.\n\nMrs. Gaynor had not answered the letter. There had been such a sort of\nupheaval it had gone out of my mind. So I was mightily surprised when\nI came home one morning from some trading to see a young fellow sitting\non the porch with father, and hear him say:\n\n\"Ruth, this is John Gaynor.\"\n\nA nice, wholesome youth, between boy and man, with a fair, clean skin,\nrather light blue eyes, but with quite deep eyelashes and brows, and\nlight brown hair, not with a decided golden tint, but giving the effect\nof having gold dust sprinkled over it. Not especially handsome, yet not\nplain, bright and intelligent.\n\nHe rose and shook hands with me. I liked him on the spot.\n\n\"I see I have taken you by surprise. Cousin Gaynor's letter was so\ncordial that mother thought I had better start at once. I should get\nhere about as soon as an answer, as I have been explaining. I owe you\na thousand thanks for your welcome.\"\n\n\"The thanks are mostly due to father,\" I returned. \"I am very glad you\nhave come. It is a pleasure to feel that there is some one in the world\nreally related to us. Did you get here without any difficulty?\"\n\n\"I did not have much, and I met with some entertaining fellow\ntravellers. Mother said I had a tongue in my head and that I ought to\nhave enough wit in my brain to ask needful questions. What a wonderful\ncountry it is! I am full of astonishment.\"\n\nI smiled, the tone was so frank, one of those full round tones that\ninspire confidence. But I had to excuse myself and interview Jolette\nabout the dinner.\n\nWhen I returned he and father were in full tide about relatives who\nhad died, and who had married, who had gone away, and about his own\nsisters, married to farmers and interested in their own lives. It seemed\ndelightful, as if one was reading an entertaining book.\n\nDan did not come home to dinner, he often took it at the nearest hotel\nwhen he was busy. After father's rest we had the carriage ordered up and\ntook a drive first along the shore of the magnificent lake, then over\nin the prairies. There were acres and acres of corn standing in ranks,\ntheir feathery golden helmets blowing about, their uniform of richest\ngreen dazzling in the sunlight. They looked so strong, so masterful,\nalmost as if they might start, and march you down with human power. The\nboy was wild with enthusiasm. It had an odd effect upon father. His eyes\nbrightened, the set lines in his face seemed to fill out, he looked glad\nand happy, and it thrilled me in every nerve. I did love him so in his\nmisfortune.\n\nIt was quite late in the afternoon when Dan came home. I had been\narranging the supper table between whiles looking after some choice\ncookery I did not want to trust altogether to Jolette. He walked\nstraight in.\n\n\"Who's that on the stoop hobnobbing with your father?\" he asked in\nsurprise.\n\n\"Oh, Dan, it's a new John Gaynor from father's old State, and it's so\nqueer how it all came about,\" glancing up eagerly.\n\nI began at the very beginning, the letter from Mrs. Gaynor.\n\n\"Well, I think I might have been informed of the matter instead of\nhaving it kept a secret from me,\" he exclaimed resentfully.\n\n\"But, Dan, you see you were at Galena, and then your father was so ill\nand all that. It really went out of my mind. Father supposed Mrs. Gaynor\nwould write again.\"\n\n\"Did your father send for that fellow?\" His tone was stern and there\nwas an angry flash in his eye. It roused resentment within me.\n\n\"He did,\" I answered bravely, but with some trepidation of heart.\nThen I explained Mr. Bayne's call that evening and the proffer of the\nsituation.\n\n\"Well, I like that! To have some other people's relations dumped upon\nyou in this secret, underhand fashion.\"\n\nI stood up very straight and glanced in Dan's eyes. \"I suppose father\nhas a right to ask a relative to his own house,\" I said with dignity.\n\nDan flushed and his brow was one sharp frown.\n\n\"I thought the house was to be yours,\" he made answer in a biting tone.\n\"And I did suppose your husband had some rights in it!\"\n\n\"Oh, Dan, don't let us quarrel about the house or this young cousin\nor anything. Nothing must come between our love for each other,\" I\nimplored, throwing my arms about his neck and kissing him. Then I knew\nhe had been drinking.\n\nPerhaps he felt ashamed. \"I'm not quarrelling,\" he said gruffly. \"But a\nman does hate to find that his wife has kept secrets from him for weeks\nand weeks.\"\n\nI had explained the whole matter and it was useless to reiterate it.\nBut I did say\u2014\"Young John Gaynor needn't live here, you know.\"\n\nHe made no answer but went to his room to fix up for supper.\n\nI could feel that father was hurt and amazed by his indifference at the\ntable, which went almost to the verge of rudeness. Afterward he took his\nhat and marched out. I tried to make amends. I felt he would not have\nacted so if he had been perfectly sober.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI\n\nHER RIVALS\n\n\nOf course we kept our guest all night. It was midnight when Dan came\nhome, and I pretended to be asleep. But he was quite cheerful the\nnext morning. Chicago people were generally hospitable. There were new\nfamilies coming in almost penniless, one may say, and they were helped\nupon their feet in the friendliest manner. It had seemed to me that\nDan had a large and generous soul, but he did not show it now. I felt\nheartbroken.\n\nWe were to go down to the newspaper office. John thought he should like\nthat above all things.\n\n\"I've never had half a chance at books,\" John said laughingly. \"I had\nabout made up my mind to study and get a district school. In a certain\nway I like farming, but it's not so easy in our old State. Here it must\nbe splendid, inspiring! But a newspaper! That looks like fairyland to\nme. Cousin Ruth, I'm like a girl about fairy stories and King Arthur\nand Odin and all those old heroes.\"\n\nThat sounded like Norman, and warmed my inmost heart.\n\nFortunately we found Mr. Bayne and Mr. Wight both in. I think they\nwere quite taken with young John. I wondered at his sort of aplomb\nfor a country lad. He was no braggart, but he did seem to have a clear\nestimate of himself, and to most questions he said so cheerfully\u2014\"I'd\nlike to learn.\"\n\nThe upshot of it was that he was to come for a week and try. Then Mr.\nWight talked about Chris. Being a clergyman himself, he was taking a\nfervent interest in the lad.\n\nWe let father go home, and we took a walk about old Fort Dearborn,\nand talked western history, which interested him very much, as he had\nonly the vaguest idea about the West. In spite of last evening, I had\na light-hearted feeling, as if I was the Little Girl of the past going\nabout with Norman.\n\nOn our homeward way, just as I attempted to cross the street, a carriage\nhalted. There were two women in it, and one leaned out calling to me\nlaughingly\u2014\"Ruth Gaynor\u2014Ruth Hayne!\"\n\nI drew a long breath of utter amazement, and simply stared. But for\nthin, pale Mrs. Morrison I certainly should not have recognized Polly.\nShe was a handsome woman and dressed in the richest manner. She seemed\nall of a glitter from her shining, rippling hair, the bronze feathers\nblowing about her hat, the cloud of lace around her neck with gold\nthreads in it, and the glistening silk gown. On her one bare hand shone\na circlet of diamonds, on her wrist a bracelet.\n\n\"Oh,\" I ejaculated, drawing in a long breath of surprise.\n\n\"If you had met me in a pudding pot you wouldn't have known me,\" and\nshe laughed with an amused gayety. \"_You_ might get stirred up in the\nmush, but I wouldn't, I'm too large.\"\n\n\"Polly Morrison,\" was all I could say.\n\n\"I came yesterday afternoon. This is my first visit home, though I've\ntrotted up and down the Mississippi until I know every turn and every\ntown. I have a husband who hardly lets me out of his sight and he has\nnever found it convenient to come to Chicago. Perhaps he is afraid\nhe might see some other woman he would like for a wife, he had such\nastonishing luck before. And how Chicago has changed! All the old houses\nhave been built on to, and the stores and warehouses! It can't hold\na candle to New Orleans, and Kaskaskia is a gay old town, but you're\ncoming on. Is this Chris?\"\n\n\"No,\" and I explained.\n\n\"We're just out for a flyer. I took mother along so that people would\nbe the more likely to recognize me. This afternoon we must go calling.\nI suppose I ought to stay at home and let the neighbors call on me, but\nI want to see them so. And poor Mrs. Hayne is a widow. Ben gone off to\ncollege, is it? Homer getting rich and peopling the town, but the other\none is abroad\u2014married to some French marquise, I suppose, and Chris\ngoing to be a minister. Lots of other changes. There! You may look to\nsee me some day.\"\n\nHer talk had been a swift dazzle, and made you feel as if some one had\nwhirled you around.\n\n\"What a talker,\" said John. \"And what a handsome woman. She looks fit\nto be a queen!\"\n\nWe hurried home. I was anxious to have the dinner all right, and I\ndidn't exactly want Dan to see me coming home with young John Gaynor.\nWhy, I could not explain altogether to myself.\n\nJolette was just dishing up when Dan entered. He should not accuse me\nof secrecy this time.\n\n\"Oh, Dan,\" I cried, \"did you see the new arrival, not exactly in a coach\nand four, but in Harman's barouche? Madame Maseurier and her mother\nviewing the town.\"\n\n\"Polly Morrison!\" he ejaculated. \"How does she look?\" He was all\ninterest.\n\n\"John thinks like a queen. She is wonderfully handsome, or else it is\nthe fine clothes.\"\n\n\"Come to show them off, I suppose. The old Frenchman with her?\"\n\n\"No. But she said her husband hardly let her out of his sight.\"\n\n\"I'd trust Polly for squeezing out some dark night if she wanted to.\"\nThen he gave his old, merry laugh, and a good-humored nod.\n\nThe dinner passed pleasantly. John had a good deal to say about the town.\n\nDan's strictures rankled in my mind. I really wanted young John to\nlive with us. I liked him so much already, as one might regard a young\nbrother, indeed as I did Chris, only John belonged to me, to father.\nBut I did not want any trouble or jealousy.\n\nThe lad went down to the office the next morning, taking some lunch. Dan\ndid not ask about him. He came home very enthusiastic. He had struck\njust the right thing, he was confident. And, grasping father's hands,\nhe said in his young, earnest voice, he could never be thankful enough\nfor that cordial letter of his.\n\nIt was the third day later when father was resting after having spent\nthe morning in the fields, that I took my sewing and sat beside him.\nPresently I said tentatively:\n\n\"I am glad John has taken such a liking to the printing office. What a\ncheerful, ambitious fellow he is.\"\n\n\"A real Yankee!\" Father laughed. \"I like him very much. It seems a\nwhiff of my native air\u2014of my boyhood's air. Only I hadn't the ambition.\nThe world was not so ambitious. People had an idea in those days that\nGod had put you just where He wanted you to be, and that it was a sin\nto try to get elsewhere. They didn't read the Bible right in the very\nbeginning, 'Dominion over everything' is his birthright.\"\n\nAfter a pause I began in a kind of indifferent tone, \"Do you not think\nit would be a good thing for him to board near the office, where he\ncould run home to his dinner? He is a growing lad, and a cold lunch\ndoesn't seem just the thing. Then in winter there will be storms and\nawful going.\"\n\n\"We're not in winter now. What is to hinder him from staying until\nthen?\"\n\nHe looked suddenly, sharply at me. I felt the hot blood rush to my face.\n\nThere was a silence. The fresh wind off the lake sang its murmuring\nsong, and the birds gave the chorus, but I could feel the other hush.\n\n\"Yes, what's to hinder?\" rather impatiently.\n\n\"I thought,\" then my voice faltered.\n\n\"Did Dan say anything? He doesn't like the boy's coming, I can see that.\"\n\n\"He felt hurt because he had not known about it. So many things happened\njust then\u2014\u2014\"\n\n\"Well, it was rather queer. He might have struck something at home, and\nnot come at all. I should have felt like a fool making a great spread\nabout it. I did suppose his mother would write again. But I don't care\nnow. And the house isn't Dan Hayne's! There's our bargain in black and\nwhite. To be sure, I haven't deeded it to you. I started to once, when\nHamilton made a suggestion\u2014\u2014\"\n\n\"We have been so happy and peaceable.\"\n\n\"Ruth,\" his voice was low, and with an inexpressible longing, \"I wish\nyou had a child or children.\"\n\n\"Oh, father, it has been the one desire of my heart, my trial, my\nconstant prayer,\" and I leaned my face down on his arm and cried softly.\n\nSophie had twin boys besides her other son and daughter. Dan envied the\ntwins with the longing of fatherhood. This matter had been a sorrowful\ndisappointment to us both.\n\n\"There, dear,\" said father presently. \"There may be some wise purpose\nin it that we can't see now. But I don't say, like David, in his\nprosperity, \"I shall never be removed. Thou, Lord, hast made my hill so\nstrong.\" I think quite often of the time when I _shall_ be removed. I'd\nlike to know that some one of my blood would take a delight in these\nbroad prairies and fertile fields. It seems queer when luck went against\nme in my early life that I should have so much of it now when I am an\nold lamenter. Of course, Dan is an excellent manager, it's born in him,\nbut I keep things up sharp as well. This was what Hamilton said: 'If\nyour daughter dies without children you know this goes to Mr. Hayne.\nHave you no relative that you would like to succeed her?' I stopped\nshort then. You see Dan might marry again, and your property go to\nanother woman's children.\"\n\n\"I wouldn't mind Dan, but another woman and her children\u2014oh, I couldn't\nbear to think of their living in this house\u2014the children I have been\ndenied,\" and I could not stifle my sobs.\n\n\"Little Girl, you may outlive Dan. Think how his father went, who had\nnever had a day's illness in his life before. But one needs to consider\nall the points. So I have been thinking this last year if there was any\none I would like to have succeed us, or if I should leave it to found\na hospital, which we shall need. I couldn't make up my mind. I thought\nwe would talk it over some day. And now John has come in a sort of\nmiraculous way. We do not know how he will turn out in the end\u2014but I\nlike the name\u2014John Gaynor. Would you mind if he came after us?\"\n\n\"Oh, I should like it. Already he seems like a brother.\"\n\n\"That is, if there should be no children. We needn't give up hope,\" and\nhe smiled tenderly.\n\n\"Yes, I should like him to come after us,\" I said after some moments of\nthought.\n\n\"Meanwhile, if I want to help him out of my part of the profits, you\nwill not feel sore?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no,\" I returned earnestly.\n\n\"Of course I want him to make his own way, it gives a young fellow more\nreliance on himself. But he might as well live here\u2014\u2014\"\n\nI was cut to the heart with a curious presentiment. Dan would be\njealous, I knew by what he said that first night. If it had been\naltogether the drink he would have met the boy cordially afterward. But\nhe had not. I had never thought of Dan caring especially for father's\nproperty, yet I wondered now if he would have wanted to marry me if\nthere had been only a trifle. As I grew older I could not understand why\nhe had been so persistent, when I had not really \"fallen in love with\nhim,\" as the phrase goes. I might have been mortified if he had given\nme up at last, but I knew now I should not have been heartbroken. I had\ntried my utmost to yield him all wifely love. Sometimes he was fierce\nin his vehemence, and it turned me cold at heart. I liked the gentler\nmoods best, but occasionally there was a hard indifference. If there\nhad only been a child to give scope to the fatherly feeling! After that\nI think I would only have been the mother of his child.\n\nThere was nothing to do but to tell father the truth. He was quite angry\nat first, but he loved me too well to risk my happiness, so he consented\nreluctantly. But John should come as a visitor and be made welcome.\n\n\"And whatever you want to do for him you must do without thinking it\nwill take aught away from me,\" I said firmly. \"It is all yours, and I\nwant you to be happy.\"\n\n\"I wish I had never persuaded you to marry Dan Hayne,\" he subjoined in a\nprofoundly reflective manner. \"But I was truly afraid then that I should\ndie, and he did seem to love you.\"\n\n\"And he loves me now,\" I returned bravely, but with a curious sinking\nof heart.\n\nIt took more than one talk to get matters settled and father was loth\nto let John go. But I knew how necessary it was when Dan said with an\nacrid sound in his voice\u2014\"Is that fellow going to hang round here all\nthe time?\"\n\n\"No,\" I replied cheerfully. \"He is to board with Mrs. Wilson down on\nLake Street. It will be so much more convenient when he is once fairly\nat work. He has decided to learn the printing business.\"\n\nI knew he looked sharply at me, and I hated to have anything to hide\nfrom him.\n\nI went over to Mrs. Wilson's and selected his room, seeing that it was\ncomfortably bedded and furnished. Then I paid her a month's board in\nadvance, explaining the relationship to father and saying that he was\nwarmly interested in his namesake's welfare. She promised to see that\nhe was well taken care of in every way.\n\nHe hated to go, declaring he did not mind the walk nor the early rising\nit entailed. But we set it out so very much to his advantage that he\nceased to object.\n\n\"And we shall look for you on Sundays and whenever you like of an\nevening. We shall keep a sharp watch over you and see that you do not\ngo astray.\"\n\n\"I should be a beast if I did after all your kindness,\" he returned with\ndeep feeling.\n\nI was rather glad that Polly Morrison, as people still called her,\nmade a diversion through this time, when relations were strained. It\nwas quite an event for the town. Madame Maseurier was somebody in her\nsilks and furbelows. She was not \"dined and wined,\" though no doubt\nthe gentlemen would have done it if it had been admissible, but tea\ndrinkings, the complimentary honor of that day, were proffered.\n\n\"Dan,\" I said, and I tried to keep in my usual mood, even if he was\ncaptious, \"Dan, Mrs. Gurnee has asked us to supper to meet Madame\nMaseurier to-morrow evening.\"\n\n\"Well\u2014\" rather sharply.\n\n\"If you don't care to go I will send regrets.\"\n\n\"Who said I didn't care to go? Can't a man think a moment if he has\nanything to prevent?\"\n\nI made no comment.\n\n\"Do you want to go?\" in a curious tone.\n\n\"It is always pleasant at Mrs. Gurnee's, and her tea is delicious. It\nmust come straight from China.\"\n\n\"Oh, it is no doubt part in the brewing. Well,\" with a nod of the head,\n\"we'll go and inspect the Madame in her fine array. I hope you have\nsomething decent to wear.\"\n\nFortunately I had a silk gown made in the latest style. The skirts were\nvery full, and mine, because I was very slim, had to be laid in plaits\nunderneath the gauging.\n\nCertainly Polly was a fine-looking woman and distinguished in manner,\nin spite of her madcap youth. Several of her old admirers were present\nas husbands, and she distributed her smiles impartially. She seemed to\nhave a very ready wit and much intelligence, and really was fit to grace\na court.\n\nThe next night but one we met her again. She was very charming and\nbrilliant.\n\n\"I hear you have a fine new house,\" she said to Dan. \"Am I to have a\nchance to view it?\"\n\n\"It's nothing to your fifty or hundred year old houses with all their\ntreasures. Chicago, you will remember, is new, and the world has not\nyet poured its luxuries into our laps. I had an idea you had given it\na long last farewell.\"\n\nShe laughed softly. \"That is to say you decline\u2014and an old friend! I\ndid not think you so cruel.\"\n\nHe flushed. \"No, I should feel quite honored,\" he subjoined quickly.\n\"Ruth, is there an evening you and Madame Maseurier can agree for her\nto come to us?\"\n\nI really wanted father to see her, so I accepted the opportunity\nreadily, for I had hardly dared propose it to Dan, and she agreed with\ncharming suavity.\n\n\"You can hardly make Polly Morrison out of her,\" I remarked as we were\nwalking home.\n\n\"She has been polished up by society, we must admit, and she is what I\ncall a handsome woman. Those tall women always do have such a queenly\nlook. It pays a man to get them fine clothes.\"\n\nAnd I was barely medium.\n\nI did my best to have a pretty tea table. Dan said not to ask any one\nelse. We had made some vines grow over our porch, and I had a row of\nflowers on each side of the walk, like my mother's dooryard. Polly\nadmired it cordially and told us of the southern flowers and vines that\ngrew so riotously in their sweetness and bloom. She sat and talked to\nfather until they were summoned to tea, and we had a rather merry meal.\nShe thought our prospect so fine, the great sweep of prairie on one\nside, the lake on the other. They laughed about old Chicago, though\nPolly said it had not made rapid strides only in a business way.\n\nHer eyes gave one the queerest feeling, as if they really absorbed you,\ndrained you of some power, and yet you were lured to meet them again\nand again.\n\nDan proposed to take her home in the buggy.\n\n\"Oh, no, let us walk,\" she returned. \"I am afraid of these uneven narrow\nlanes at night, when you can't see the pitfalls.\"\n\nSo they went off together, she with a lace scarf over her shining,\nrippling hair, southern fashion.\n\n\"What do you think of her, father?\" I asked, as we settled ourselves on\nthe porch.\n\n\"She is out of the ordinary, a woman to take a man straight to the devil\nif she so elected. I don't wonder her husband keeps a good watch over\nher, but she seems to accept it gayly. I do not believe she has any\nheart.\"\n\nDan did not return until midnight. At first when he was out late I used\nto keep awake until I found it annoyed him. Now I went to sleep if I\ncould, or pretended.\n\nTwo or three days after that Polly returned home.\n\nJohn trudged over when he had been at his boarding place three days. It\nwas as nice as it could be, but wasn't like this, and the street was\nwretched down that end. Yes, the meals were very good, and the office\nwork was easy enough. Mr. Bayne had asked him to come in some evening,\nhe had quite a library. He had written everything to his mother, a long,\nlong letter, and she would be so amazed, so delighted.\n\n\"I wish I might call you Uncle John,\" he said in his frank, free\nway. \"It seems to bring you into the proper relation\u2014there's so much\ndifference between us in years. Oh, at the office they think you know\nsuch a lot!\"\n\n\"I've had a chance to learn a good deal in the years I've lived. Any\none can who keeps his eyes open and adds two and five together.\"\n\n\"But why two and five?\"\n\n\"Because it takes you farther along than two and two. Sometimes when\nyou go out of bounds you strike a new knowledge.\"\n\nSunday morning Dan went off with one of the packers to look at a drove\nof cattle, and we had a delightful time with John all day. He told us\nabout his sisters and their families. One of the husbands taught school\nin the winter. His own brother seemed a rather close-fisted sort of\nperson, and his mother now and then went out nursing. But there was\nno chance for a young fellow in the town unless he had a farm to start\nwith.\n\nDan seemed to settle into a sort of tolerant mood toward young John,\nbut though I tried my best I often found him sharp and captious. Then\nhe would have a spell of being tigerishly fond of me. I cannot use any\nother adjective, and it filled me with terror, as it had times before,\nas if he sought to impress upon me that I was his alone.\n\nThen we heard that Mr. Pierre Maseurier had been thrown from his horse\nand picked up with a broken neck.\n\nEverybody wondered what Polly would do. Her mother went to her.\n\nSo the winter came on again. Half a century had passed. It was 1850.\nHow queer it seemed, as if we had written 1840 all our lives. And I was\ntwenty years old.\n\nBen was in Harvard. Mr. Wight planned for Chris to study Latin and\nGreek, and go to a preparatory school another year.\n\nMrs. Morrison and Polly came home. It seems that Mr. Maseurier had made\nno will, and the sons claimed everything. Wives were not well provided\nfor at that period. Still, the sons gave her a small portion of their\nwealth, and she returned to Chicago, her luxurious life at an end. I\nwondered if she was very sorry. She wore heavy widow's mourning, and\ndid not look as attractive as in all her furbelows. Then widows were\nexpected to live very quiet, retired lives for six months at least.\n\nI was rather surprised when Dan inquired somewhat brusquely one day if\nfather had given me the deed of the house.\n\n\"Is it worth while before I am twenty-one?\" I asked.\n\n\"What a silly idea! It is worth while any time. Ask him to do it. He\npromised to.\"\n\nI spoke to father.\n\nHe went over to Judge Manierre and had the deed made out. The house\nand the three acres of ground, barn, outbuildings, etc., were mine,\nand to go to the heirs of my own body, failing in that they were to\nrevert to the original estate of John Gaynor. Then he made his will.\nEverything was left to me during my lifetime with the exception of a few\ngifts of land, a plot to Dan Hayne, another to the son of his cousin,\nJohn Gaynor. At my death without lawful heirs it was all to go to John\nGaynor. There were several permissions given about selling under certain\ncircumstances. And if John Gaynor died without heirs the estate was to\ngo to the city of Chicago to found a hospital.\n\nHe brought a copy home to see if I was satisfied with it.\n\nI said I was entirely. If I died, why should father's fortune go to\nenrich one who would soon forget me?\n\nFor now I had an awesome consciousness that my husband did not love me\nas Homer loved Sophie, as many wives were loved. I tried to be sweet and\npatient, to keep my house in pretty order, to have his clothes just as\nhe wanted them, and everything to his hand, to be ready if he asked me\nto go out, which he did not often do nowadays. He was a good deal with\nthe men. He had been training Chita's pretty colt for a splendid racer\nand was proud enough of him. Then he was off to Galena for a week at a\ntime, or on some other business over night.\n\nWhen he learned about the house he was very angry. I had never seen him\nin such a passion. It turned me sick and cold. He had never sworn at me\nbefore, and he said dreadful things about father.\n\n\"It is all father's,\" I replied. \"He gives it to me during my lifetime\nif I outlive him, and while he lives no one can take it away from him.\"\n\n\"He promised you the house. It was an object for me to marry you.\"\n\n\"Then you did not love me?\" I faced him with that.\n\n\"Well, in a way, yes. But you are poor, barren stock! And here comes\nthis beggar's brat that no one ever heard of before\u2014why, I thought you\nhad no relations. And he is to take everything.\"\n\n\"I may live to be an old woman. And father may live years yet.\"\n\nHe had certainly seemed stronger the past year. He had attended to\nnearly all the planting in the spring, Dan had been away so much. He\ngot about very well with only one crutch.\n\nDan swore a horrible oath and turned on his heel. I was glad father was\nnot in the house, but I was mortally afraid he would go after him. He\nwas away then for two or three days and nights. There are some shocks\nthat seem to change life for us, make a difference that one can never\nwholly surmount. I knew this had come to me.\n\nDan was not covetous. He made money easily, and spent it freely without\nany apparent regret. There were suppers with the men, and he was\ngenerous about helping his friends. So why should he have counted on\nfather's money when he could be a rich man with a little carefulness?\n\nBut the awful knowledge that was more than suspicion rushed over me,\nleaving me cold and faint. Father _had_ been poorly that winter. And\nI knew now if father's land should be turned into money, if the city\nshould go on spreading out, I would be an heiress. Dan had as much faith\nin Chicago's future as father.\n\nHad this anything to do with his fancy for me? I could not blind myself\nto the fact. Then I think I had piqued him by not being too easily won.\nIt was not coquetry, but because I had never felt certain of myself.\n\nI was so miserable I had to tell father.\n\n\"My poor Little Girl!\" Then he roused to anger. \"I can easily destroy\nthe deed. The bargain was that I should deed the house to you, but that\nI should have my home in it as long as I lived. I never promised to\nwill all my property to you. For a certain amount of oversight he was\nto have a certain share of the profits. This last year he has not done\nhis part at all. I could justly complain of him. I have hired some of\nhis work done out of my part. He is with a gay set and he does drink.\nOh, my Little Girl, you are between two fires.\"\n\nHe took me in his arms, and I cried on the dear fatherly breast.\n\nIt is curious how the expected fails to meet the mark. Father had\nresolved to brave it out, and I was shaking in every pulse. But Dan\nreturned careless and pleasant, ate his supper with rather exuberant\ngossip, dressed himself, and went out with no sign of storm, and we\nwould not throw the first dart.\n\n\"Ruth,\" Sophie began hesitatingly one morning when I had gone in to\nsee the babies, which were my delight, \"what calls Dan down to the\nMorrisons' so much? He is there every few nights. And he took Polly out\ndriving after nine o'clock. Some one ought to put a stop to it. Polly\nis being very retired and discreet, and all that, but this is going on.\"\n\n\"How do you know?\" I asked, cold as ice at heart.\n\n\"I can't tell you without a breach of confidence, that is, not the name.\nBut it is true. Shall Homer take it up?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, no,\" I cried. \"Don't let him quarrel about me. I can't tell.\nWait and let me think.\"\n\n\"It will be an open scandal by and by, though they carry it on in the\ndark. Somehow I always rather distrusted Dan. Oh, you ought not have\nmarried him.\"\n\nBut it was all done. No one can take a step backward in his or her life.\nI remembered what father had said about Polly.\n\nI rose weak and trembling. I said again I must think it over. She kissed\nme tenderly, but I was like one bereft of feeling.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVII\n\nPOLLY.\n\n\nI thought when I was out in the street I would go and see Mother Hayne.\nI would like to know how this matter of the house seemed to a woman who\nhad been a wife many years. Yet her husband had not taken pains to make\nany special provision for her. Why should a wife then provide for her\nhusband? I felt ill and perplexed.\n\nHer face was radiant. She clasped me in her arms and kissed me again\nand again.\n\n\"Do people ever go crazy with joy?\" she cried, and there was the\nwonderful sound in her voice that comes from a full heart, satisfied to\nthe utmost. \"I've read this letter over and over again. Norman is coming\nhome!\"\n\nWas he going to bring a wife? I wondered in a dull manner, but I uttered\nno word.\n\n\"You must read it. I can't begin to tell you. Norman has won his good\nfortune, for I know he has been the best of sons to that poor old man.\nAnd now he comes back to us. Read! read!\"\n\nShe thrust the letter into my hand and sat down, wiping the tears\nfrom her face with her apron, smiling through them, her face fairly\ntransfigured and looking almost like a girl. I stared at her, the\ntransformation was so wonderful.\n\n\"Read! read!\" she cried impatiently.\n\nIn the previous letter he had written to his mother he had spoken of a\nrather severe illness that had attacked Mr. Le Moyne. It had not made\nany special impression on me. But here in the very beginning\u2014and they\nhad gone to one of the pretty coast watering places where, though he\nwas quite feeble, he seemed to recuperate. No one had felt especially\nalarmed when he had a slight recurrence, and for a few days he had\nseemed not to lose ground. Then there had occurred a sudden collapse of\nall the vital energies and in twenty-four hours he had passed away. But\nhe had kept some sight to the last. It had been a horror to him lest he\nmight have to be led about, and he had prayed to go before that time.\nAnd though Norman would miss one who had been the kindest of friends,\nindeed a father to him, he had lived out the allotted span, and had his\nwish granted.\n\nPart of the letter had been written while they were making arrangements\nto go to Paris. His family slept in P\u00e8re la Chaise, and he would be laid\nbeside them. There was much in the tender regard and sorrow that brought\ntears to my own eyes.\n\nArrived at Paris he had found a great deal to do. Mr. Le Moyne's papers\nwere in the safe of a notary. All the arrangements had been made to\na letter. He had left quite a large fortune. There were some distant\nrelatives remembered, he had been generous to the oculist who had\nprolonged his failing sight, to his numerous friends, doubly generous to\nhim, Norman, and the residue had gone to charity. As soon as he could\nget through with his part of the business he should fly home at once,\nthough the probabilities were that he would have to go back again. But\nhe was dying for a sight of the dear ones, especially his mother in her\nsorrow.\n\nIt was indeed a heart-appealing letter. We both cried over it, yet\nit gave us a great sense of joy. I forgot my own troubles entirely,\nand though she was fain to keep me I hurried off home. They were just\nsitting down to dinner.\n\n\"Oh, Dan,\" I cried, \"your mother has heard such news. Mr. Le Moyne is\ndead and Norman is coming home. He has been left quite a fortune. She\nwants you to come down and read the letter.\"\n\n\"Hello! That _is_ news. And a fortune! The Haynes are looking up. Well,\nI suppose Norman is so Frenchified and full of airs that he will give\nChicago the go-by. No word of his marrying? Mother doesn't seem to\naccumulate daughters-in-law very fast.\"\n\nFather was interested as well. When Dan rose to go he said pleasantly,\nwith what sounded like desire in his voice\u2014\n\n\"Ruth, don't you want to go out for a drive this afternoon? There's such\na fine breeze and the sun isn't over hot.\"\n\nWas there really a smile on his face? My heart leaped up in gladness\nand I answered joyfully.\n\nFather and I talked quite a while afterward. He was glad to see Dan so\ncordial. I could not tell him what I had heard. And yet might it not\nhave been mere gossip?\n\nHe had made several ill-natured flings about the house, but no real\ncomplaint again. I do not suppose he knew about the will. I was glad\nand thankful to have him pleasant, and to ask me to go out with him.\n\nAnd yet as I sat there waiting, so as not to detain him, my heart went\ndown again and I questioned his motive, feeling that it was terrible\nfor a wife to do that. How had I lost faith? How had I come to have this\nmysterious outlook so dark and full of fear?\n\nHe was bright and smiling when he came. It was a perfect summer\nafternoon and the air was fragrant with the growing crops, beautiful and\npeaceful too. A golden light hovered over all, making subtle waves in\nthe air, and then followed the rose-colored suggestion of coming sunset,\nas if to herald the brighter glow. Dan had been very pleasant, jolly,\nfinding so many amusing incidents. To me there was a sort of sweetening\nof perceptions, a sense down deep in my consciousness that matters would\ngo better. What if he had taken Polly out to ride one night, what if he\nhad called there occasionally? I was his wife, and if he had been vexed\nabout things he _must_ love me, since we were to go on to our life's\nend. And no matter how hard it was, I _must_ love him. It seemed as if\nI had never known how high and solemn a thing love was until now.\n\nWhen Dan lifted me out of the buggy he kissed me and said, \"Have you\nhad a nice time, Little Girl?\"\n\n\"Oh, Dan!\" I hugged his arm. There didn't seem any word in my vocabulary\nstrong enough to express my satisfaction.\n\nI remember he played checkers that night with father, losing the first\ngame, winning the second, but father captured the rubber.\n\n\"I'm getting rusty,\" he laughed. \"I must brush up. Now let us have a\ngame of cards.\"\n\nThere were several new games. I took a hand with them. When Dan went\nout to see if Chita and Duke were all right, father said:\n\n\"Dan hasn't been drinking for several days. If he could realize how much\nmore of a man he is when he lets whiskey pretty well alone, I think he'd\ndrop it. It was quite like old times to-night, wasn't it, Little Girl?\"\n\nMy heart was so full that I could only kiss father. Both of them had\ncalled me \"Little Girl.\"\n\nI was so comfortable that I dismissed all thoughts of Polly. Indeed,\nNorman's return was the great theme of conversation, and most people\nwere speculating on how much of a fortune he would have. Mr. Harris\nhad dropped into quite an old man and his hair was snowy white. He took\ngreat credit to himself for starting Norman on the road, as he phrased\nit, and talked over all the early times with father. Oh, how fascinating\nthey were!\n\nI had given up corresponding with Norman, given up my French also. I had\nwritten several times after my marriage, but I must confess Norman's\nletters had lost something of their charm. He used to say, \"Do you\nremember this or that, the walk we took here, the talk about such a poem\nor such a legend?\" He had left off all these references.\n\n\"Why do you have to write to Norman?\" Dan said on one occasion. \"Can't\nyou hear all the news from mother? And I should think the letters must\nbe mostly repetitions.\"\n\n\"Why, I don't _have_ to,\" I said laughingly.\n\nThen I began to send messages in his mother's letters. She used to write\nthem in journal fashion, and it was quite a labor. Once she said, \"I do\ngrudge postage for such clumsy packets, or I should if Norman didn't\nsend it every now and then, twice more than I can use.\" It was very\nsweet of him.\n\nEvery day I thought of his return. He was twenty-nine now. How would he\nlook? not like Homer\u2014I wanted him to have his own individuality.\n\nWe went on very comfortably. Dan looked after business better, though\nhe made some trips away\u2014two or three days at a time. I said to Sophie,\n\"I think that about Polly was awful gossip. Dan does stay at home a good\ndeal.\"\n\nShe shook her head dubiously. \"It came very straight to me. But Polly\nhas been away some latterly. I suppose we will presently see her\nblossoming out of widow's weeds, and she'll capture some one with money\nagain. You mark my words.\"\n\nThere was one point Dan did not try to overcome. He did not, would not,\nlike young John, who was doing well and a favorite with his employers.\nHe remarked it.\n\n\"Cousin Ruth,\" he asked, one of the Sundays he was specially invited,\nwhich meant that Dan would not be at home, \"why does Mr. Hayne dislike\nme so? I don't do anything to him. Is it because your father does a\nlittle in a money way for me? I mean to pay it all back as I get along.\nAnd the house is uncle's, I suppose? I'm not going to ask anything\noutright. You've both been so kind, and sometimes I feel as if I rather\nsneaked in, don't you know,\" and there was a perplexed light in his\neyes.\n\n\"Nonsense!\" I returned decidedly. \"He used to be curt to his own brother\nBen at times. Men who have to order others about and swear at cattle\nand all that get brusque ways.\"\n\n\"You see _my_ brother didn't like to have me round, why I never could\nquite tell, unless he thought mother was taking a double share out of\nthe farm, and I worked like a trooper out of school hours. I've seen\njust the same look in Mr. Hayne's eyes.\"\n\n\"You come for father's sake,\" I made answer.\n\nNevertheless, I had some misgivings. I seemed to be leading a double\nlife. I was smoothing out the thorns and crookedness between father and\nDan, I was having this pleasant young fellow on the sly. Sometimes I\nhad a strong mind to ask father to change the deed of the house and let\nDan have it when I died. But on the other hand, Dan was spending money\nfreely everywhere. He did bet on games and cards, and on the Indian\nraces. He gave a supper to the men occasionally. Of course, he always\nwon on Chita, perhaps on other risks. He was very free handed.\n\nFather had so few wants, and no extravagances. Surely he had the right\nto spend a little on his own kin.\n\nOh, how I did want a friend in these days. I wished at times that I was\na Catholic and could go to confession. P\u00e8re Saint Palais was so lovely,\nand his voice had that beguiling winsomeness that I longed to have it\ncomfort me, set me straight. For I was beginning to feel there was a\ngreat hard wall between Dan and me. I tried my best to love him. Oh,\nwhat was love!\n\nYet, some of the wives I knew had fallen into a settled routine, I was\ngoing to say indifference. They kept their houses well, looked after\ntheir babies. Their husbands went out in the evenings to smoke or talk\npolitics, trade, crops, and they ran into a neighbor's to gossip. Why\ncould not these things satisfy me? There were sudden impulses that led\nme to kiss Dan, to almost beg that he would love me as he had in those\nfirst few years, when I did not really want it. Perhaps I had tired out\nhis love. Mother was sure married people \"settled.\"\n\nI knew father was watching me very closely. I tried to hide my thoughts\nwith a girlish gayety. It occurred to me more than once that I might\nhave to choose between Dan and father, and in my secret heart I knew I\nshould go with father.\n\nPolly was beginning to crawl out of her seclusion a little. I met her\none day at the bookstore where I was buying some articles for father.\nI could not understand why she should color up so. She really did look\nenchanting with the bit of lisse roll to her widow's cap inside the\nbonnet, often called Marie Stuart. She had a \"book muslin\" collar worked\nwith black and little turn-over cuffs of the same material. Her white\nskin and her wavy hair, her full red lips with their tempting curves\nalmost fascinated me. Did Dan ever kiss her? I wondered. Could she take\na man \"straight to the devil?\" I shuddered.\n\n\"You don't look well,\" she began in her mellifluous tones. \"You are\nthin and pale. Do you know I used to think you were quite a pretty\nlittle girl, but I suppose we all do go off some,\" laughing. \"I tell\nmother I never want to be a horrid-looking old woman like granny. Wasn't\nshe frightful? So I hope I'll die somewhere along middle life, when I\ncan make a decent-looking corpse. And Norman's coming home! Don't you\nsuppose if Norman had stayed here you would have married him instead of\nDan?\"\n\n\"I think Dan made me marry him,\" I gasped, as if the words were wrested\nfrom me.\n\n\"He's awfully imperious, isn't he? I suppose you give in to his whims,\nbut the way to keep your charm over such a man is to deny him, to\ndispute with him\u2014up-and-down quarrels, and the making up is delicious!\nMarriage is queer, isn't it, and the wrong people do get together! Is\nthe old couplet true\u2014\n\n     \"'There's a house 'tother side of the way,\n       And there they make Lucifer matches?'\"\n\nAnother customer entered, and Polly turned to her. My parcel came. I\npaid for it and went out.\n\nIf Norman had not gone away would I have married him?\n\nI did not know anything about marriage in that innocent childhood.\nNorman staying right along, and we growing nearer each other, reading\nthe same books, enjoying thrilling or tender verses, walks and talks,\nand then\u2014I knew there would not have been any repulsion, that I should\nhave been glad, glad with supreme joy, just as Sophie had been.\n\nI laid the package down on the table. Father was in his office, but I\ncould not go in. I went up to our room, took off my bonnet and glanced\naround. Dan had been in and changed his clothes. Trousers thrown over a\nchair, collar and stock on the bureau, shoes and a soiled handkerchief\non the floor. Dan had gone off somewhere. The most curious repulsion\ncame over me. I could not touch one article to put them away. Oh, if I\ncould run away somewhere\u2014but there was father. Keeping together \"as long\nas ye both do live.\"\n\n\"Ruth!\" called father.\n\nIt might have been minutes or hours, it seemed an endless while to me.\n\n\"Did you get the paper? Come down. I want to make out some bills. Dan's\ngone to Batavia for two days, left his good-by. Why, Ruth, you look like\na ghost, what is the matter?\"\n\n\"Do I?\" I tried to laugh, but my mouth was stiff, and I felt numb all\nover. \"I don't think it anything. I may have walked too fast. The sun\nis hot.\"\n\nHe put me in the big rocking chair. I picked up a fan. I was cold\nenough, Heaven knew, but I wanted to make some movement.\n\n\"Ruth, I think you are not well. You grow thinner all the time, and\nyou have no flesh to lose. We must have the doctor. Child, I have been\ncomforting myself that matters were better with you\u2014\u2014\"\n\nHis kindly eyes were full of solicitude.\n\nI made a great effort. \"If you mean with Dan,\" I said, \"they are. He is\nmuch pleasanter. I think he has gotten over the trouble about the house,\nthough sometimes I have wondered whether he might not have it when I am\ngone.\"\n\n\"No,\" father replied, almost with set teeth. \"You need not go for that.\nI'm not sure but it would be better for you to deed it back to me. Still\nif things go on, well\u2014\u2014\"\n\nHe hobbled to the closet and brought me some wine. That refreshed\nme. Then he opened the package, made out some bills, straightened his\naccounts when it was supper-time.\n\nJohn came over in the evening, and father would keep him all night.\nI felt quite as well as usual. When I went upstairs I laid the soiled\nthings away, hung up his trousers, but his vest fell to the floor, and\nhis knife and pencil rolled out with a bit of paper. I put the two back,\ncrumpled up the paper, then bethought myself it might be a memorandum\nof something and spread it out, took it over to the candle. It was a\npencil scrawl.\n\n\"You will find me at Weesaukie's lodge at twilight.\" It was not Dan's\nwriting.\n\nThere was no name. He had taken Duke and gone in the buggy. Was he to\nhave a companion? It turned me sick and cold again. Polly's glittering,\nmocking eyes and her insolent tones with their half veiled gayety swept\nover me. Was it\u2014would it be Polly? Oh, no, no, Dan could not do such a\nthing as that!\n\nFor all Polly's brave show of mourning it was whispered that her married\nlife had not been altogether serene, and that she made little ado about\nthe loss of her grandeur.\n\nAll night something haunted me, a kind of impersonal agency,\ntreacherous, trying to lure me somewhere in darkness and vagueness,\nwhile I had to make a great effort to hold back. And then I was\nwandering over wild, dreary prairie land, at last coming out to a\nstrange black, silent lake. What splashed into it? The cry woke me, and\nmy heart beat with a great terror.\n\n\"John,\" I said to the young cousin, \"I want you to go down to the\nMorrison house this noon and take a note, but do not give it to any one\nexcept Polly. If she isn't home, and she may not be, you say it is all\nright, and be sure to bring the note back to me. Don't leave your name\nor anything. Come back to-night.\"\n\nIt was a daring thing if Polly was home.\n\nI busied myself about household duties, and in the afternoon a neighbor\ncame in with her two little ones. What made every one so anxious to know\nhow much fortune Norman would have? Still I was glad of the break, for\nfather had gone out to look after the men. The weather was fine and he\nwas anxious to get in some of the crops. Then he took a rest in his easy\nchair.\n\nI walked down the street a short distance. John came hurrying along\nwhistling, but stopped, thrust his hand in his pocket.\n\n\"She wasn't home, Cousin Ruth. The woman wanted the note, but I wouldn't\ngive it to her. She told me to come on Friday.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" I returned breathlessly. \"Do not mention it to father,\" and I\ntook the missive.\n\nThen Polly was away as well!\n\nDan came home late Friday night, good natured, bustling, and announced\nthat he must start early the next morning for Galena on some important\nbusiness. He hoped I had not missed him much. He was sorry to go away at\nthis busy season, but he would make it all right with father. Indeed, he\nbegan to think with so much business of his own they would really need\na regular overseer.\n\n\"Now if that Gaynor boy was four or five years older, he might come.\"\n\nI was thunderstruck. \"I thought you did not like him,\" I half faltered.\n\n\"I don't, but your father seems to like him.\"\n\nThe tone was rather sarcastic. I made no reply. I was glad he did not\nproffer me so much as a kiss. In five minutes he was asleep.\n\nSo to Galena he went the next morning after a brief colloquy with father.\n\n\"I'd like to know what's got into Dan Hayne,\" father said, almost\nangrily. \"I s'pose he's had a streak of luck somewhere, he's gay as a\nlark, but he is sober enough, and I'm pretty sure he hasn't been off on\na carouse. I suppose it is all right between you?\" studying me sharply.\n\n\"It was all pleasant, if that is what you mean.\"\n\nHe nodded, but did not look satisfied.\n\n\"I'll have to hunt up Jake Esden\u2014and I suppose he will be too busy\nto lend a hand. This kind of weather can't last. If I wasn't such a\nbattered old hulk!\"\n\nI clasped my arms around his neck, but I did not sigh nor sob, though\nboth rose in my heart. Whatever came it would be we two.\n\n\"We'll have a week to ourselves anyhow,\" he said, in a gratified tone.\n\nA week in which to be glad that the husband of one's life would be away.\nWhat a bitter travesty it was. But this time Polly was home, making\npreparations to go to Vincennes for quite a stay.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVIII\n\nDAN\n\n\nI was all alone that August afternoon. It was hot out on the porch and I\ntook my sewing inside. I liked to sew when anything perplexed me. There\nseems a quiet kind of diversion in the effort one has to make, which is\nnot much of an effort, after all. Father had gone down to the warehouse\nto see about loading one of the boats. One of the men was with him,\nthough he had learned to get about quite comfortably.\n\nI heard a step on the walk. Dan's week was up and he might be home any\nday. It had been a pleasant and busy week, and it seemed as if most of\nthe people I had ever known had visited me. There was my old friend,\nMrs. Chadwick, who had come for her brother. He was rather ailing now,\nand it was thought a change would benefit him, so she would take him\nhome with her. She was still sweet and charming and intelligent and\nwe had a pleasant visit. Sophie came up with the four children, and we\nenjoyed a merry, romping time. Of course, she couldn't let Polly alone,\nbut she admitted the matter might have worn itself out, and now she was\npreparing to take quite a journey. \"Joy go with her,\" declared Sophie.\n\nBen had returned, a fine, fresh-looking fellow, tall and with a strong\nframe, rather thin now, but he was full of ambition. He had been doing\nvery well, and oh, what joy it would be to see Norman, the most splendid\nfellow in the world. Any day he might arrive.\n\nChris, too, was full of delight. I had no time to brood over my own\ninfelicities.\n\nNo one had come yet to-day. It was too warm for womenkind to go visiting\neven with the prospect of a supper in which they had had no hand.\n\nSo when I heard the step I did not stir, neither did I take the next\nstitch, but just listened for the voice. Chris had a way of beginning\nhis conversation on the lowest step and talking all the way along. It\nmust be Ben, stopping to pet the cat. Then I turned, but could not see\nwho was in the hall, rose, and took a step forward, and then we stood\nface to face with all the years between. I was no longer a little girl,\nand this was a fine, resolute man, clear eyed, the strong features toned\ndown by the tenderness and sympathy the years had demanded of him, a\nface one could trust to the death\u2014Norman Hayne in his ripe manhood.\n\nThere came to me in that one instant a flash of awful knowledge that I\nhad no right to. I swayed uncertainly. I put out my hand and all went\ndark before my eyes.\n\n\"Oh, Little Girl! Little Girl!\"\n\nThe longing sweetness of the voice pierced my very soul, but I went\nplunging down some deep abyss. Was I really dying?\n\nWhen I came to, Jolette and father and a neighbor stood there beside\nNorman.\n\n\"What was the matter?\" I asked. \"Why, I never fainted in my life.\"\n\n\"Once is always the first time,\" said Mrs. Miller, sententiously.\n\nFather was pale with fright, and shook as if with an ague, while his\neyes transfixed mine.\n\n\"I came upon her too suddenly,\" Norman explained. \"I was so impatient,\nand I could not find any one.\"\n\n\"She has not been well of late,\" exclaimed father.\n\n\"And it has been a hot afternoon. Oh, how did you stand it?\" and I\ncaught his hand.\n\n\"I was in a tolerably cool place. There is a breeze coming up, and the\nsun has gone under a cloud.\"\n\n\"Yes. I think we might take her out on the porch,\" said Mrs. Miller.\n\"Jolette, you carry the big rocking chair.\"\n\n\"I am all right,\" and I gave a tremulous little laugh. \"Did I frighten\nyou very much?\"\n\n\"It was a pretty severe faint,\" Norman replied, still looking anxiously\nat me.\n\nMrs. Miller would lead me, though I could walk very well, and only felt\na little shaky.\n\nThe wind came up in a fluttering sort of gale, as if it hardly knew\nwhether to behave at its best or worst. A drift of mauve and dun began\nto settle in level lines along the west, making a bar across the sun.\nOther patches of white and pale gray chased each other about, but there\nwas no sign of shower.\n\n\"When did you get in?\" asked father.\n\n\"About noon. I went straight to mother. Chris was home. Oh, you can't\nthink how glad I am to be here. It has been a long exile from the many\none loves. And yet I ought not complain. I have been needed every day\nof the time. But it seemed so strange at the first glance to have every\none grown up, although, of course, I knew none of us stood still,\" and\nhe laughed with a cheerful, musical sound. It was like a mellow echo\nof Dan's. And he was a refined and noble copy of his elder brother, a\ngentleman in tone, accent, the turn of the head, the glance of the eye,\nthe sort of atmosphere that surrounded him. I thought I would like to\nhave him more distinct in personality.\n\nHe remained to supper, but went immediately after. He wrung father's\nhand until the pressure made him wince, but he said a simple good-night\nto me, and I was thankful. I could not have borne the clasp of his hand.\n\nThere was great rejoicing, to be sure. We were very neighborly in\nthose days, and joy as well as sorrow stirred all hearts. Then it was\nsomething to have been nearly all over Europe, to understand several\nforeign languages, to have seen kings and queens.\n\nA few days after Dan came home. He gave me a careless greeting, and\nbegan to talk at once about Norman.\n\n\"I have not seen much of him,\" I said. \"He and father went driving\nyesterday, and he was surprised at what he called the advancement of\nthe prairies.\"\n\n\"Oh, I suppose he carries his head very high. And I dare say he came\nin for a big fortune. You won't see much of him here, I can tell you.\nWe're not half grand enough.\"\n\n\"Your mother is a very happy woman. I went down there yesterday, while\nthe men were out. I had been so busy with various matters. You must go\nand see her.\"\n\nHe nodded, and busied himself with some papers he was taking out of a\ndrawer.\n\nThat was all our greeting after a week's absence. I had a kind of\nstunned feeling, and did not really care for endearments, though\nsometimes Dan was very lavish of them. I had not yet grown used to\nthis revelation of myself. I must learn to love my husband, it was my\nonly safeguard. Otherwise I should be a miserable, sinful woman. For\nI realized now how I had loved Norman Hayne through these years of my\nchildhood, and how I could love him now, how he would fill the spaces\nin my heart that had never been satisfied. The pain and longing I had\nnever understood before.\n\nThere was another aspect to the case. Father's influence had its share\nin the step I realized. He had not thought then he could live very long,\nand it was his dear love for me that longed to see me safe in some one's\nhands. He suffered enough in knowing that my husband had grown careless,\nhe must never guess that I could have given my supreme affection to\nanother and been happy, blessed beyond measure.\n\nWhy had Dan married me?\n\nHe could not have been so much in love with an unformed child, though\nI think I did amuse him with my petulance and protests. He loved to\nconquer anything. He could subdue the most fractious horse and do\nmore with an obstinate mule than any one else. He really enjoyed my\nresistance. But was there any thought that at father's death I should\nbe left with quite a fortune? There was his anger about the house, his\nobjections to young John Gaynor. Yet now they seemed matters almost of\nindifference to him.\n\nBut there was my duty and my safety. Father was a very upright man and\nused to clear distinctions, and I knew I had inherited them. I was a\nwife and I had no right to consider what my life might have been with\nany other man, to brood over what I had missed.\n\nIt seemed truly as if Norman helped me. Had I done or said anything in\nthat moment of the lapsing of consciousness? He came only when father\nwas around. Oh, what talks there were out on the porch, to which I\nlistened enchanted, yet I sat a little by myself, or with father's arm\naround me. Mrs. Hayne gathered the family together, and father went\nalong. Four sweet, merry grandchildren, Sophie bright, commonplace to\nbe sure, but a most excellent wife and mother. We talked of the one who\n\"was not,\" of the night I had come a Little Girl, of the many delightful\nold things.\n\nDan was there, but I noted a curious restlessness about him, as if he\nwas bored, and an abstraction. His thoughts certainly were elsewhere,\nyet he told droll stories and anecdotes and chaffed Norman. When we made\nready to return Ben said he would go along, he had an errand uptown. We\nwere old enough to divide our city in sections already.\n\n\"Ben\u2014if you'll just see my folks safe home,\" he said, \"I'll be mightily\nobliged to you. I ought to see some one on business, and I know I can\ncatch him to-night.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" assented Ben, and then Chris said he would go, too. Norman was\npetting and playing with little Ruth.\n\nDan walked a short distance with us and then turned off with a cheerful\ngood-night. But it was past midnight when he returned.\n\nIt seemed so strange to walk on the edge of some suspected but unknown\ndanger, as if the ground was mined somewhere along the way. I was\noutwardly cheerful, I sang about the house, I tried to answer blithely,\nI cooked the things Dan liked, I begged him to come home early. I\nindulged in little caressing ways, such as he used to fairly extort\nyears before. I put on whatever semblance of love I could use without\nbeing effusive. It did not warm him at all, and he had been so easily\nroused. What was this stone that I surged against?\n\n\"Ruth,\" father said one morning, \"what is Dan about, has he told you of\nany new plans?\"\n\n\"No,\" I answered in a kind of surprise.\n\n\"He is putting money in the copper mines up at Lake Superior. He has\nsold that Lake Street property, at a sacrifice, I think, and he asked\nme for a settlement. He wants to go up to the copper fields himself.\"\n\n\"No, I have heard nothing about it.\"\n\nFather came nearer and took both of my hands.\n\n\"Ruth, you cannot go up there, even with your husband,\" he exclaimed\nsolemnly.\n\n\"He has not asked me. I do not think he would want me.\" Yet I shuddered\nat the prospect.\n\n\"One cannot fathom him any more. Of course, he was very plausible and\nall that, considering my interest, and saying he had not time to attend\nto it, that he might be away for months, and that now I was so much\nimproved a good overseer would answer my purpose. But I say again he\nshall not take you. I would as soon hand you over to a pack of ravening\nwolves! Oh, my darling, I have no one in the world but you, a broken,\ndisabled, lonely old man.\"\n\nHe pressed me to his heart, and I felt the sob there. The strong arms\nabout me gave me inexpressible comfort.\n\n\"You need not fear,\" I returned. \"He shall not even drag me away.\"\n\n\"He will not try force. He may try fraud. I distrust him. He used to\nbe so frank and outspoken. Will you be careful? Do not be trapped into\nanything, for he is deep as the sea. It may be all this copper business.\nI have seen men go mad about speculation before, when they could dance\na hornpipe standing on their heads, their brains were so befuddled. It\nis not drink, but some curious influence I cannot divine.\"\n\n\"I shall stay with you always. It was one of the conditions of my\nmarriage. It was as solemn a promise as anything else.\"\n\n\"Thank God, my darling.\"\n\nThere certainly was what I should call an intense change in Dan, not\nany superficial emotion. He sometimes sat with his lips compressed, and\nhis brow in a frown, then it would suddenly lighten in such a wonderful\nglow, an absolute radiance. What was he thinking of?\n\nOnce, when I saw it, I went over and kissed him in a kind of fascinated\nmood.\n\n\"Don't!\" He pushed me away roughly.\n\nA month before I would have cried, and felt stabbed to the heart. Now\nI walked quietly away.\n\nWhat weeks they were, not many of them, but the days seemed shodden with\nlead, the sun hung high in the heavens, as if loth to leave her throne.\n\nI stayed mostly at home, helping father to go over accounts. I remember\nthe last week. Norman was not in at all.\n\nWas I longing for him? Was life drearier without him? Well, if I was\nas weak as that then I must make a new and greater effort. But it was\nfighting with no line of defence behind me, no husband to stretch out\na hand.\n\nDan came in awhile before noon one day and began to pack a valise. He\nhad taken away some of his belongings before. I had been mending a few\narticles rather too bulky to be carried downstairs.\n\n\"I am going away,\" he announced, \"up to Lake Superior. The Prairie Bird\nstarts this afternoon.\"\n\n\"Oh, Dan!\" What should I say? \"How long are you likely to stay?\" and I\ntried to make my voice solicitous.\n\nThere was no answer for a moment or two. Then he turned around in a\nfierce fashion, and his eyes were black as night.\n\n\"I may as well tell you,\" he began in a desperate tone, \"that I am not\ncoming back at all.\"\n\nI glanced up at him. I knew the color went out of my face. I was so\nutterly amazed.\n\n\"You'll hear the story, but I may as well have the gratification of\ntelling you.\" His voice had a peculiar depth, and his face was set with\nsome tremendous emotion. \"I am going with the woman I love, and who\nloves me with a passion you never could know if you lived a hundred\nyears! I should have married her in the beginning, but I was a blind,\nidiotic fool, and she had a temper. We were never sure of each other.\nShe made a pretence of caring for this or that one when I ought to have\nwrung the secret out of her heart and mastered her once for all. A woman\nlike that gives royally when she is compelled. You have to extort it out\nof her, but the drop of honey is worth it all. The old man who took her\nin hand never found the way to the heart of the flower. That was saved\nfor me. And it is a delicious draught. We are going away together\u2014we\nshall never come back. What people say is of no importance to us.\"\n\n\"It is Polly Morrison,\" I gasped. \"Oh, Dan, if you loved her, then why\ndid you marry me?\" I cried, wounded to the heart's core.\n\n\"Because I was a fool. She had gone out of my life, and I said she could\nnot have loved me as she professed. And you were a silly little white\nkitten, never quite sure whether you would jump on my knee or not, so I\nmade you. But what is there to you? Some cold Puritan blood, some petty\nsort of tenderness that has no fire in it\u2014nothing to kindle a man to\nthe height of rapture. I tired of you even before she came, and then my\nlife was set aflame. She is the one woman for me. A month, even, with\nher would outweigh any other woman on the face of the earth.\"\n\nI sprang up. \"Dan, your solemn promise!\" At that moment I hated to be\nthrust aside for Polly Morrison. \"You were not compelled to marry me.\nYou\u2014you did love me then\u2014a little.\"\n\nHe laughed scornfully. \"You have just hit it\u2014a little. A man sometimes\ntakes second best, more fool he! You might have done if Polly with all\nher witchery had not crossed my path. Or it might have been some one\nelse. There is no need of making a fuss now. I have not wasted any of\nyour patrimony. You can hand it all over to John Gaynor if you like,\nand you and your father can maunder on through life. And I shall have\na glowing, thrilling, absorbing atmosphere, in which one really lives.\nNo, don't come near me\u2014\"\n\nThe bed had stood between us as I sat by the window. Perhaps I had\nunconsciously stepped forward. I had a wild idea that I must plead,\nthat I must exert all my wifely powers to keep him from committing this\ndreadful sin.\n\n\"Don't come near me,\" he continued. \"We will say good-by with this space\nbetween us and no tomfoolery. Perhaps I was idiotic to come and tell you\nthis, but I wanted you to know how the other woman was loved, how a man\nloves when a woman fills every thought of his soul. There\u2014you and your\nfather are well rid of me!\"\n\nHe picked up his valise and strode out of the room, down the stairs. I\ndropped on the bed. I did not faint or cry. I could hardly be any more\ndeserted than I had been the last two months. A deserted wife! A husband\nby all of God's sacred ordinances who gloried in his shameful love for\nanother woman!\n\nIt stunned me. One moment it seemed incredible, then his voice sounded\nclear and vibrant, as if he was still in the room. Had we parted for\nall time? A hundred little tendernesses rushed over me. The laughing,\nteasing eyes that could hold so much meaning looked into mine. Oh, he\nmust have loved me once and I had tried to love him, yes, sometimes I\nreally had, but it was a child's love.\n\n\"Ain't any one comin' to dinner, Mis' Hayne?\" A peremptory voice rang\nup the stairway.\n\nI rose, bathed my face, although there were no tears to wash away, and\nwent down.\n\n\"Mr. Hayne gone away?\" inquired Jolette.\n\n\"Yes,\" I answered briefly.\n\n\"An' ye'r father out! I declar' to man ther' ain't much sense roastin'\nye'sself on a hot day an' no one to come an' eat the wittles!\"\n\nI glanced over the table. The boiled dinner with one or two side dishes\nfilled me with disgust, and yet I thought how Dan would have enjoyed it.\nHe was hearty in everything. He had a big frame to take care of and he\ndid not stint it.\n\nThe wagon drove up and Sim helped father out. So I waited until he was\nready to come.\n\n\"The Prairie Bird starts out at two. Has Dan been home?\"\n\n\"Yes, and gone,\" I made answer briefly.\n\nHe glanced sharply at me. Jolette was too near for any private comment.\n\n\"I saw him down by the elevator. Well, I hope he isn't on a wild-goose\nchase that will bring down only a few feathers. Wentworth thinks\nhe's years too early, but they may find gold up there as well as in\nCalifornia, and copper may pan out in a valuable way. But I think he was\nfoolish putting so many eggs in one basket. He's sold Duke to Baubein.\"\n\n\"He cared more for Chita.\"\n\n\"There's big money in Duke. He's a splendid trotter.\"\n\nI tried to eat. Father was hungry, and just as the pie came on Ben\nentered and had some dessert, and there followed a long talk with\nfather, who then settled himself in an easy chair for his nap.\n\nHad Dan really told the truth? Was Polly to be his companion? How would\nit come out? At all events, I would keep my own counsel.\n\nIt had been a pretty warm day until about five, when some suspicious\nclouds went scurrying across the sky, and a blast of wind seemed to\ncome off of an iceberg. We shut down the windows, the storm rushed up so\nquickly. Then the wind fell. In a little while there was such a peculiar\nlight, not sunset, it obscured the sun even, a strange yellow glow over\neverything, darkening and yet not making dark. The air was now very\nstill. Men went hurrying homeward.\n\n\"There'll be a big storm,\" one and another said when they came within\nhearing. I thought of the two out on the lake and how Dan disliked the\nwater.\n\nThere had been a curious talk about the end of the world coming. Jolette\nwas afraid, and up in her room prayed mightily.\n\n\"It is strange,\" father said over and over again, and he watched me\nclosely.\n\nAfter a while it grew paler and that gave everything an unearthly glow.\nYet it looked beautiful. It was nothing like sunset, I had never seen\nsuch a light before. The distant cornfields were simply magnificent.\nTrees looked as if they were painted on a background, every branch and\ntwig were so distinctly outlined.\n\nThen by slow degrees it faded, growing into evening gradually. There\nhad been no sunset, but night was coming on quietly and the sky was a\nsmooth gray.\n\nBen rushed in breathless.\n\n\"Hasn't it all been queer?\" he exclaimed. \"Mother was sure the end\nof the world was here. They've been preaching it a good deal to the\neastward. Norme insisted I should come up and stay all night with you.\"\nHow good the old name sounded! \"He could manage mother better. I never\nsaw her so frightened. Were you?\"\n\n\"Well\u2014the world is going to be destroyed by fire, but it wasn't hot\nenough to melt the fervent elements, so I thought we were safe,\" replied\nfather jocosely.\n\nThen they began about the prophecies, and how in the first century they\nthought Christ would come the second time before St. John died. Father\nhad been quite a great Bible reader of late years. We spoke of Dan,\ntoo, and hoped he would reach his destination safely. Evidently Ben\nnor mother had any idea he had gone to stay, or that there was anything\nwrong. I almost persuaded myself I had dreamed that cruel, brutal talk.\nIt had been interspersed with not a little profanity. I hated swearing.\n\nWe went to bed at length. I felt so sore and sad then, with all my life\nin ruins, that I cried softly on my pillow. A deserted wife! And when\nthe story came out, how hard all the gossip would be to hear!\n\nThe Yankee clock in the hall rattled off its hours. It always struck\nas if it might lose a second of time between the strokes. Twelve! The\neerie hour. What if a ghost came to me! Oh, what was that!\n\nAn awful roar of something coming nearer and nearer and then breaking\ninto a thousand shrieks. I sprang out of bed and screamed.\n\nFather called to me, \"Come in here, Ruth,\" and I ran, frightened almost\nout of life.\n\nI suppose there had been such tempests before. I know there have been\nsince. Ben came in wrapped in a blanket and lighted some candles, then\nsat on the foot of father's bed. It was something terrific. The house\nrocked, we heard the trees crash down, the cries of the animals and the\nfrightened poultry, and that mighty roar and swirl as if the destruction\nof the world had begun. We were so near the lake that we guessed what\nan ocean tempest must be with the great waves pounding up, fighting each\nother like angry armies.\n\nThen it began to rain. A great fierce deluge, this way and that,\nwhirling, beating, changing about, thrashing, as if it meant to crush\nout life, the world, everything. Oh, what torrents! It stamped on the\nground in its rage. It beat on the roof as if it meant to crush it in,\nand was all the uglier for being foiled.\n\nI snuggled up to father and pressed my cheek against his. His arm was\naround me. We two, henceforth, always. And what of the other two? I felt\nthe boat must have put in somewhere. It should have been a magnificent\nnight with the moon just past the full. I thought of the ride on Chita\nin the harvest moonlight. Other tender remembrances came back to me,\nand from the depths of my soul I cried to God for their safety, cried\nmightily, as if my own soul was at stake.\n\nIt was two before the storm began to abate at all, then it rained\nsteadily, and the wind raged, but not so fiercely, the lake roared like\na great booming cannon, but the house had stood the shock and we were\nsafe. It had been so good to have Ben. Yet it was curious we had none\nof us once spoken Dan's name, though I think it was deep in our hearts.\n\nThe skies were still thick in the morning, as if layer after layer had\nto roll away before it could clear. The wind had mostly ceased, and the\nrain held up now and then and came in gusts again.\n\nOh, the destruction that greeted us! The lake had been loosed it seemed\nand swept over everything. Streets were rivers, some houses had been\ncarried off their foundations. We were on higher ground, but there was\nonly a short distance between us and this great sea the wind had stirred\nup.\n\nAbout ten the clouds began to lift a little and patches of blue\nstruggled here and there and were submerged again. Poor Jolette had gone\nalmost crazy and really had not wit enough left to get breakfast. Ben\nand I helped, but all the life had been wrenched out of me. One of the\noutbuildings had gone over, but the barn and stable and hennery were\nintact.\n\nBy noon Norman came over, waded over, for he was mud up to his knees.\nThe instant I looked into his kindly, pitying eyes I felt he shared my\nsecret. I did not dare give him a second glance, for I knew I should\ncry out in anguish.\n\nAfter an hour or two the sun came out, as if quite ashamed of the\ndestruction the wretched myrmidons of storm had wrought. And we heard\nhow wharves and storehouses had been submerged, vessels torn away and\nwrecked, swept down to the end of the lake, and such destruction as had\nnever come upon us before, as there had not been so much to destroy.\n\nIt was several days before the damage could really be estimated. The\nwaters subsided, the lake took her mud and ooze and overflow. The sun\nshone as if it was glad to help dry up and restore, and the blue skies\nsmiled, the winds seemed as if led by a child.\n\nSome of the corn had been cut and stacked, and the rest, though beaten\ndown, was so fully ripened there would not be a great loss. Most of the\ngrains had been cut and housed.\n\n\"I declare, Gaynor, you do have the best luck of any one I know,\" said\na neighbor.\n\nIt seemed so. Father was really a rich man, but most of it had come\nthrough thrift.\n\nI felt weak and miserable. I was holding my breath for some blow that\nwould surely strike, and when I looked in any one's face I felt as if\nI must scream.\n\nNorman came up on the porch one afternoon. I was walking slowly\ndownstairs, and halted in the hall. I did not hear what father asked,\nbut Norman answered:\n\n\"Yes. They have heard. The Prairie Bird ran ashore on some rocks that\nstove a hole in her, and then was blown out to sea again. Only a few\nwere saved, two or three of the sailors. But that isn't the worst news\nto face. It is going all over now. Poor Ruth! If she might never know!\nFor\u2014how can I tell it? My own brother, too!\"\n\nI stepped out. I suppose I must have looked like a ghost. Norman\nstretched out his arms, but I tottered to father.\n\n\"I know,\" I said, trying to steady my voice that seemed blown about by\nthe stress of emotion. \"Dan told me that day. They loved each other and\nwent away together.\"\n\n\"And were found dead, locked in each other's arms.\"\n\nI fell over into father's chair. That was the last I knew for a long\nwhile.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIX\n\nHOW NORMAN CAME HOME\n\n\nThose years abroad had been very precious years to me in spite of the\ngreat disappointment of not returning home at the promised time. I found\nMr. Le Moyne a charming gentleman, and was not made in any degree a\nservant, but treated like a relative. I knew afterward that he took a\ngreat fancy to me from what Mr. Harris said, and, as he told me, \"he\nliked my face.\" I kept accounts for him, wrote letters, read aloud,\nstudied and wrote to the Little Girl and my mother as often as I could.\nShe was such an innocent little girl, and so sweet, so altogether\ndifferent from the girls I had come in contact with.\n\nWhen we went to Washington, where Mr. Le Moyne was entrusted with a very\ndelicate mission that was not to be put into writing, he decided to go\nabroad at once, as his eyes were causing him great uneasiness. We would\nnot need to remain more than a year, he thought. But months passed, he\nwas improving so much that the oculist thought he ought not break with\nthe treatment. It was one thing and another. He came to depend so wholly\nupon me. And I never had the courage to tell him I had left a little\ngirl in Chicago that I desired sometime to make my wife.\n\nI used to say things in letters that I hoped she would take up, that\nmight pique her curiosity, but they did not rouse her. If I wrote to\nher, and she had no especial love for me, that would end it. And how\nhard it would be to have a long engagement. I was a little afraid of my\nbrother Ben, who had somehow stepped into my place, yet it seemed mean\nto grudge him any happiness if he could win her. Then Mr. Le Moyne's\nhealth began to break and his eyesight fail, with some new complication.\nHe asked me never to leave him while he lived. I could not deny him. So\nI trusted my Little Girl to God. If she was for me it would all come\nright in time. I was having a rich, full life and developing in many\ndirections. I did have a great deal of the finest enjoyment.\n\nBut when I heard that Dan had married my darling Ruth I was as one\nstruck dumb with amazement. He was a big, strong, burly fellow, full of\nlife and jollity, and not over-refined. But then I reflected Chicago\nwas not Paris, or London, or Rome, or Florence. It was a hard blow to\nme. I had no duty left but to devote myself to my benefactor. No father\nand son could have lived in finer accord, or had tastes more in unison.\nI was glad that I could comfort him in his misfortune.\n\nHis health failed gradually, and the end came in peace. He had dealt\nvery generously by me. I found it would take a long time to settle the\nestate, and resolved to return home for part of a year at least.\n\nHow everything had changed! Chicago had made great strides, increased\nher business, widened her borders. Fresh from beautiful cities that\nhad taken hundreds of years in their growth, this had hardly begun.\nWhat was a place thirty or so years old compared to their centuries of\nadvancement!\n\nDickens had been over and touched up the West with his caustic pen.\nMany people in Europe seemed to think we as a nation were reverting to\nthe Indian type and lived in wigwams. I was astonished at times at the\nlittle our neighbors really knew about us, compared with our knowledge\nof the different European countries.\n\nAfter all my fascinating rambling about, and my different attainments,\nthis was home, and a man's birthplace and his boyhood remembrances are\nalways dear to him. Two lines of a poem credited to Stoddard always\nsuggest this meeting to me:\n\n     \"My mother fell on my neck and wept,\n       She kissed me and then she sighed,\n     And our hearts were filled with a silent grief\n       For * * * * the one who had died,\"\n\nand that was father.\n\nChris was home to supper. Homer and his wife came in. Sophie had been a\ngreat friend of the Little Girl's I remembered. Oh, how dear and sweet\nit was. Mother kept studying me\u2014she had in her mind the boy who went\naway.\n\nAll the next morning the house was thronged with callers. Mother was\nproud as a queen. Then I ran away and went over to the Gaynors', hoping\nthey had not heard. I had my wish. There seemed no one at home. The\ndoors stood hospitably open and I entered. Then I caught sight of the\ngirl who had never been out of my mind all these years. I came upon her\nunaware, and we stood face to face reading the inmost secrets of each\nother's souls, knowing what might have been, what we had lost. She put\nout her hand a little blindly and then she fell into my arms. I caught\nher and saved her from dropping on the floor.\n\nI carried her to the settle and laid her down. She was as beautiful\nas any statue I had ever seen. The straight Greek nose with its thin\nnostrils, the rounded chin with a faint dimple, the perfect brows, the\ntendrils of hair that were like cloud-like vapor, so light and showing\nthe white skin through. I glanced a moment, then I kissed her with the\npent-up love of years, brow and lids with their long brown lashes, mouth\nand chin, but she lay like a form in marble, as if the tenderest passion\ncould not rouse her.\n\nThen I called for help. A black woman came, and, frightened, she ran\nfor a neighbor. I tried chafing the hands. I called her endearing names,\nand then I remembered she was my brother's wife, but she was my darling,\nnevertheless.\n\nWhen Mrs. Miller came, Jolette, the black woman, skirmished up a bottle\nof liniment and one of camphor.\n\n\"Is there any brandy or whiskey?\" I asked.\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" and she went for that. Just then John Gaynor came in, and\nit seemed as if he would faint as well. But between us all we presently\nhad her restored.\n\n\"I took her too suddenly,\" I began in apology.\n\n\"What did she say?\" He eyed me sharply.\n\n\"She had not time for even a word of welcome,\" I answered. \"Is she well?\"\n\nHe shook his head with a reluctant dubiousness. \"I'm afraid she isn't\nquite,\" was the slow reply.\n\nI noticed then that she was very thin. You could see the blue veins in\nher arms and hands as well as her temples.\n\nShe made light of it, though I understood she was a little frightened,\nas she had never fainted before. Then Mrs. Miller suggested we take her\nout on the porch, where it was cooler, and we packed her in a rocking\nchair. I fanned her slowly. Her father placed his chair beside her. How\nhe did love her. It shone in every line of his face, which seemed to\nhave taken on a certain kind of refinement that had perhaps come from\nthe invalidism. I noticed that he used great care in sitting down and\ngetting up, and that he was very lame.\n\nI was fain to go away, not that I really wanted to, but Mr. Gaynor\ninsisted on my staying to supper. Dan was absent, and he plied me so\nwith questions that we were summoned to supper before I had answered\nhalf of them. Afterward we went out again. Ruth had the chair tilted\nback almost like a couch. How slim and graceful she was, most like to a\nwillow wand. And her sweet face told the story to me that she was trying\nto make herself happy and content in a life that did not fill her heart,\nand was slowly sapping her strength.\n\nHow we talked all the evening. She held her father's hand\u2014it showed\nlittle marks of toil now and was shapely enough, but not as white\nas hers. And when I went away John Gaynor wrung my hand with subtle,\nmeaning strength.\n\n\"You will come in often,\" he said. \"We are so glad to get you back.\"\n\nHow had these two people come to marry? I learned some of the causes\nafterward. I was anxious to see her and Dan together.\n\nI had warm enough welcomes everywhere. The interviewer had not come\ninto existence, but I went to the office of the _Prairie Farmer_ and\nsaw young John. Then there was the _Journal_, a new friend in what was\nthen the Saloon Building. There was a daily _Tribune_, rather shaky on\nits legs, in an old wooden shanty at Lake and Clark streets. The Hon.\nJohn Wentworth, of my father's old love, the _Democrat_, was on LaSalle\nStreet in quite grand quarters, the printing room boasting a Hoe press\nfrom New York. And there was a bookstore, laying a foundation of one of\nthe great publishing houses in years to come.\n\nThere was the old jail built, as the contract called for, \"of logs\nfirmly bolted together,\" and the Court House I had never seen before,\non the northeast corner of the square. It had offices on the lower\nfloor, but they were talking of a new one, as it was too small. There\nwas gas in some of the principal streets. But the wharves and the grain\nelevator had improved most of all, and the packing house was quite an\ninstitution. Railroads were planned in almost every direction and the\ncanal was an established fact.\n\nDan returned a few days after. He was a big, handsome animal, not\ngross, but with the material in every line, the intellectual in scarcely\nnone. He was shrewd, jolly, forceful in all business matters, and had\na laughing face that won more by its good humor than his argument. I\nhad once thought he might be something of a politician, but he was all\nbusiness. Ben would take up that line. Our Senators were Messrs. Douglas\nand Shields, the Stephen A. Douglas I had gone to hear speak long ago.\nThey had won a grant of land from Congress for a railroad from Chicago\nto the Gulf of Mexico.\n\nThe gold fields had not taken as many of our men as I fancied it would.\nThe unfortunate revolutions in Germany and Hungary had sent an influx of\nimmigrants over, many well-informed people among them, ready and anxious\nto work for homes in the new country, many of them farmers.\n\nMother was a very happy woman. I am not sure but Chris came the nearest\nto her heart. He was her last baby, and he had a religious tendency that\nharmonized strongly with her now. She was proud to have him preparing\nfor the life of a clergyman. Homer's children were her delight. They\nwere merry, pretty things and in exuberant health.\n\nShe felt somehow curiously about Dan, though his marriage had not\nsettled him quite as much as she had hoped. Ruth was a lovely wife, but\nit was a pity there were no children, when there was likely to be so\nmuch money on both sides.\n\nBecause I loved her so and had been betrayed into that one impassioned\nmoment I was very careful. I went there when I was almost sure Mr.\nGaynor would be around. And Dan, I found, was seldom home of an evening.\nBoth Ruth and her father never tired of hearing about my travels and\nMr. Le Moyne.\n\nThen a curious whisper seemed to pervade the air about Dan, that he went\na good deal to the Morrisons'. He had been making some investments for\nPolly. I ventured to call one day, but the house was shut up. Polly went\nout very little among her old friends, it seemed. It was reported that\nher rich marriage had not left her a rich widow.\n\nDan was very much interested in the copper at Lake Superior, and\nplanning to make a journey thither. But Sophie one day roused my\nindignation by telling me that Dan spent nearly every evening at the\nMorrisons', and that occasionally Polly stole out to a lane below,\nlittle frequented, and met Dan and drove off with him.\n\nI knew after seeing Dan and Ruth together a few times that whatever love\nhe had once had for her no longer existed. He was not rough to her,\nbut cruelly indifferent. Did she still care for him, or was this only\na semblance, this sweet devotion that would have won any man's heart\ntwice over? She clung so closely to her father. There never could be a\ntenderer affection.\n\nOne evening I resolved to learn the truth of Sophie's story. From the\nGaynors' I went down to the Morrisons', a long walk. The house was all\nin darkness except a faint glimmer at the kitchen end. I crept softly\nup, when a low growl from a bulldog fairly curdled my blood. I could\nnot see where he was, and retraced my steps cautiously. The next day I\nplanned differently. I stationed myself at an intersection of streets,\nthey were not much beside lanes, and sat down under a tree to wait.\nThere was no moon, and at first a rather hazy sky, but it cleared\npresently into magnificent starlight.\n\nFrom my point I could see down to the house. It was all a blur at first,\nbut by degrees I became so accustomed to it that I could discern the\noutlines of all between. A tree partly hid the side, but the front was\ndimly visible.\n\nIt was ten when I took up my vigil. Eleven, half-past. Perhaps I was on\na fool's errand. Then\u2014yes, there were two figures stepping out in the\nopen space. They found parting such \"sweet sorrow\" that it seemed as if\nthey would say \"Good-night 'til it were morrow.\" Their arms were about\neach other, their faces turned from me, but close together. A long, long\nembrace, then Dan started away swiftly.\n\nI rose. He took the other way, but I stepped over there.\n\n\"Dan,\" I exclaimed, steady voiced, \"Dan!\"\n\n\"Who the devil are you?\" sharply.\n\n\"Norman Hayne, and I want to talk with you. I know where you spend\nnearly every evening.\"\n\nDan whipped out his pistol and uttered an oath. \"You've been spying on\nme, and it's the last time you'll spy on anybody, you mean sneak.\"\n\nI put up my hand. We were facing each other, and we were both of a\nheight. My heart was unprotected.\n\n\"See here, Dan,\" I said calmly, \"you could shoot me and my dead body\nmight be found in the morning. That is not all. Before noon Chicago\nwould know the name of the murderer and his connection with the woman\ndown there. If you are willing to yield up your life and draw down\nobloquy on the woman you have just left, then shoot.\"\n\nDan still held the pistol.\n\n\"That devil of a Gaynor put you on the track, curse him,\" in a vengeful\ntone.\n\n\"No, I do not think he suspects such a thing. He imagines you at the\nhotel talking business and playing cards, and he is proud that you come\nhome sober. It is from this neighborhood the report has spread. You\nhave taken her out driving. Your true wife that you must have cared for\nwhen you married owns your fealty. I do not need to read you a lecture,\nyou know what you are doing and the end will be a scandal that will not\nraise you in any one's estimation and break her heart. It will also drag\ndown the other woman.\"\n\n\"A miserable puling, white-livered thing who has no heart to break, who\ncares nothing for love, could not understand it!\" he flung out.\n\n\"Why did you marry her? Why not have taken Polly at first?\" I questioned\nsternly.\n\n\"Because I was a blind, dumb fool all the way through. And when she\nmarried I thought that the end of it.\"\n\n\"And when you married, that was the honorable end of it.\"\n\n\"No, it wasn't the end at all. Love with fire in it may smoulder, but\nit breaks out into a flame if one stirs among the ashes.\"\n\nDan suddenly put away his pistol.\n\n\"See here, Norme, I'll admit the whole thing is wrong. But a love like\nthat sweeps a man off his feet. I'm going away presently and shall be\nabsent two or three months, and maybe I'll get over it. You see, Polly\nhad some troublesome business to settle. She wasn't left at all well off\nby that miserable old weasel of a Frenchman. I made some investments\nfor her, and somehow her story was a sad one and she had been my old\nlove, and now that I am going away\u2014Ruth is good enough, but she isn't\nmy kind. Maybe up there all alone I'll straighten matters out and come\nto my senses, and when I return things may go better with us. Polly and\nher mother are going to Vincennes to live. She doesn't feel at home in\nthis old mud hole any more. So that's the whole of it. I'm all-fired\nsorry, Norman, that I went at you so, but the thought of being spied\nupon made me thundering mad.\"\n\nThe whole thing rang false. Yet I could not controvert it. He _was_\ngoing away. About Polly I could not tell. Perhaps she had planned to\nfollow him.\n\n\"Dan,\" I said\u2014\"on your word and honor?\"\n\n\"As God hears me,\" he answered solemnly.\n\n\"You would break your mother's heart as well, and disgrace us all. And\nthe way Ruth looks, it doesn't seem to me you will have to wait long\nfor your freedom. She is almost transparent.\"\n\n\"Oh, those thin people are wiry. She's always looked so. She'll live to\nbe eighty.\"\n\n\"She was a rosy little girl.\"\n\n\"Well, you just trust me, I've given my word.\"\n\nHere was where I had to turn off to mother's, and we said good-night.\n\nDan was not home the next evening, but if he went to the Morrisons' he\ntook another way and entered by the garden. And there was a bright light\nin the parlor that fronted the street.\n\nI could only wait. I knew people bent on an intrigue could outwit the\nkeenest eyes.\n\nDan came over to say good-by to mother, and was so tender it brought\ntears to her eyes as she told it over. He was most cordial to Sophie\nand the children. I went down to see him off and he shook hands in a\nfriendly manner. It was a splendid day. I thought I would go to the\nMorrisons' that evening to see if all was right, but there came up a\ncurious threatening blow. I spent the evening with mother. She was very\nproud of Dan and was delighted to think he had given up drinking to any\nexcess. Liquor drinking was a very common thing even among respectable\npeople, but drunkenness was beginning to be frowned upon.\n\nAbout midnight the storm broke. We did not feel it so much here, but\nthe roar of the elements was something frightful. I am sure I had never\nknown such a storm. The wreck and damage were terrible. Mother was\nalmost crazy about Dan.\n\nI made my way to the Gaynors' about mid-afternoon. Their house was\nsolidly built of brick and they had suffered very slight damage. Ruth\nwas a pale little ghost and her sapphire-blue eyes asked wordless\nquestions. None of us spoke of the Prairie Bird. It was too soon to\nhear.\n\nThe lake seemed strewn with wrecks. At the warehouses everybody was\nappalled. The only hope was that any boat seeing the storm coming up\nwould run to shelter.\n\nFour days afterward a sailor, escaped from the wreck, came into Chicago\nand told the story. Of the bodies that were beaten up ashore there\nwere two locked in each other's arms\u2014Dan Hayne and Polly Maseurier\u2014and\nthey were buried together. The best cabin had been engaged for her and\nshe had come aboard in the morning. They had partaken of a gay supper\ntogether, and now it seemed half the men suspected she would flit\nwith him. He had been selling out his Galena interest and most of his\nproperty. Chita had been taken with them, and she, too, had found a\nwatery grave.\n\nI must go to the Gaynors before some one rudely bruited the tragedy to\nthem. John Gaynor could break the news more tenderly to his child. I\nwas glad to find him on the porch in the old reclining chair, reading\nhis paper.\n\nI don't remember how I told it. I think I left something to be inferred.\nI did not hear Mr. Gaynor's question, for a white wraith glided out on\nthe porch. The soft light hair framed in the sweet, deathlike face, but\nthe clear eyes shone out with an unearthly light. I would have caught\nher, but she went straight to her father.\n\n\"I know,\" she said, and her voice was like a low-toned bell shaken\nwildly about. \"Dan told me that day. They loved each other and went away\ntogether.\"\n\nThen she fell into her father's lap.\n\nI lifted her to the settle, limp and lifeless. It seemed as if she had\nlost all her flesh during these days that she had carried her secret.\nWas her heart broken? My poor Little Girl! My poor Little Girl!\n\nI went for the doctor presently. All night she lapsed from one faint to\nanother, and was left as near lifeless as any human body could be. Mr.\nGaynor watched her dry eyed, but with such an expression of despair as\nis seldom concentrated in any countenance. He would place his cold hand\nin mine, that was so vigorous and warm, that I felt almost ashamed. I\nhad given her up to Dan, I could not give her up to death.\n\nAfter two days fever set in. It was not raging or violent, but the\nlassitude was painful to witness. The boys were both going away,\nand I persuaded mother to shut her house and come up. Her sorrow was\nheart-breaking, but she knew it was still worse for Ruth.\n\nThe result of the storm was being cleared away and repaired. There was\na good deal of talk, to be sure, and the men who had liked Dan best\nblamed Polly bitterly. Others did not see how he could have thrown up\nhis prospects for any woman, for it was admitted if all went well with\nMr. Gaynor and Chicago Ruth would be no mean heiress.\n\nSad as it was to watch day and night with only a mere thread of hope,\nit took mother and Ruth out of the head of the gossip. I looked after\nMr. Gaynor's affairs as well as I could, and there were some matters of\nDan's left unsettled. He must have taken a considerable amount of money\nwith him, but whether it was in the bottom of the lake or buried with\nhim no one was ever to know.\n\nAfter a month or so Ruth began to evince a slow improvement. \"If she\nhad enough strength to pull through,\" the doctor said with a faint\ninflection in his voice that sounded like hope to the waiting, longing\near. She could not have had a tenderer nurse than mother, and womanly\ncare and sympathy exceeds that of the most loving man.\n\nThrough this time I learned by bits and snatches how this ill-fated\nmarriage had come about. And although at first Mr. Gaynor could have\nrejoiced over Dan's untimely end, he had built high hopes on him and\nwould have loved him like a son. Even now he referred to the kindly\nthings Dan had done for him in his illness, and I could see Dan had held\nmany fascinations for him. But when he wanted to get all the property\ninterests into his hands and began to treat Ruth with indifference all\nthe fatherly feelings were roused. Then he had grudged young John Gaynor\nthe relationship.\n\nI could not but admire the wise and kindly reticence he observed in\nspeaking of Dan. Of course there was no glossing over the last cruel\ninsult to Ruth, but poor Dan had paid for it with his life, Polly as\nwell.\n\nI had many plans in my mind through this time. Go back to Paris I\nmust. The boys had gone to their different institutions, and that left\nmother alone. Homer wanted her to rent the house and live with them.\nThen in watching Mr. Gaynor it seemed to me that something might still\nbe done for him. Surgery in Paris had made rapid strides. There were\nsplendidly equipped hospitals, perhaps I might find them in New York\nor Philadelphia, but I could not go there to stay. If I might take them\nall to Paris with me, mother as companion and chaperone for Ruth.\n\nI advanced my plans very cautiously. Ruth's welfare was my first point.\nShe did not get along rapidly. The doctor had insisted on having her\nbeautiful hair cut, and it was now a mass of rings, like silken floss.\nShe seemed to have gone back to childhood, her face was so small\nand wore such a look of timid entreaty. Her eyes were still like the\nmidnight blue of the sky and their expression penetrated one's very soul\nwith their infinite pathos.\n\nMr. Gaynor at first considered a journey abroad for himself an\nimpossibility with his farming interest. It did puzzle me a little to\nknow how this could be managed. And when I was about discouraged in my\nsearch for a capable person Providence sent him right in my way. Since\nthe unfortunate struggle in Hungary we had received many immigrants\nof the better class who had largely drifted to the West in search for\nland. Homer had taken a young man to work for him when he had spent his\nlittle all. He and his father had been successful wheat growers, but\ntheir farms had been confiscated. The young man had left his wife and\ntwo little ones and the mother with friends, hoping soon to be able to\nsend for them, but they found it very hard to get at anything without\nmoney.\n\nI asked them to come over and spend an evening with us. John Gaynor was\nmuch interested in them, for both were intelligent, though speaking\nrather broken English. They discussed the possibility of buying\ngovernment land and tilling it, and exploited their own methods, which\nwere not behind ours, but their markets were.\n\nThe upshot of this was at the proper time my plan of having them as\noverseers, living in the house and looking after everything.\n\n\"It would be a godsend to them,\" said Mr. Gaynor. \"They could get quite\nforehanded. These are the kind of citizens we need.\"\n\nI left the leaven to work without any needless stirring up. Then I\nsought to persuade my mother that it was her duty to go for Ruth's sake.\nSince one of ours had so nearly wrecked her life surely we ought to\nstrive to repair it.\n\n\"An old country woman like me,\" she cried in a kind of indignation.\n\"A woman who has baked and brewed, and washed and ironed, milked and\nchurned, and spun and spent the best of her life waiting on menfolk! A\npretty sight I would be to go to Paris!\"\n\n\"We should not expect to live at court,\" I laughed. \"I was quite an\nignorant lad when I went there. And if it was best for both Ruth and\nher father? She could not go without you.\"\n\nIt did take a good deal of argument and persuasion as well as good\ntemper, but at last I gained my point. We had the father, Michael\nSontieff, come and stay with us and found him clear minded and a really\nable man. They could send for the family at once. The mother and the\nyoung wife had some money of their own and were most anxious to rejoin\ntheir husbands.\n\nSo the matter was settled to my great delight. Ruth was willing to do\nanything. I did not like the apathy, though it was so sweet one could\nnot chide her.\n\nMother was still an energetic woman. And now that there was some real\nwork devolving upon her, she was happy and cheerful. Her best belongings\nwere sent to Sophie's and her house rented. She packed away the choicest\nof the Gaynors', she looked up the articles and clothing we needed for\nour journey.\n\n\"I feel as if I was going on a fool's errand,\" said John Gaynor\nemphatically, \"but if Ruth can recover her health and forget the sad\ntragedy I shall be repaid.\"\n\nThe Sontieffs came in delighted. Young John was most loth to have us go.\nHe had the making of a newspaper man in him, he would never have been\na successful practical farmer.\n\nWe went to New York, and the middle of April we sailed for Liverpool. It\nwas a pleasant voyage and the ocean trip did seem to revive the drooping\nLittle Girl.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XX\n\nTHE PASSING OF OLD CHICAGO\n\n\nThat two years abroad was like a happy dream, the romance of our lives.\nEverything was queer to my travellers at first. Ruth made amusing\nattempts at French, of which she did know a little. Mother would have\nnone of the \"gibberish.\"\n\nWhen we were quite domesticated I consulted several surgeons, who\nexamined Mr. Gaynor. The limb, they thought, had not been rightly set.\nThey would not say it could be altogether remedied, but that it could\nbe greatly improved, though the process would be tedious, and perhaps\ntake three months.\n\nThat time was not discouraging. We had come to the merciful period\nof an\u00e6sthesia, so the conscious suffering was reduced. He decided to\nundertake it. The prospect of going without a crutch was most tempting.\n\nDuring that period mother, Ruth and I took various delightful journeys\nabout the environs of Paris. It was in the early days of the third\nNapoleon and Paris was very brilliant. Many improvements had been made,\nand my two guests were filled with amazement. There was so much beauty\non every hand.\n\nAfter the first fortnight we were allowed to see Mr. Gaynor. The surgeon\nadmitted that it had been a rather serious case, and the operation\nwould be the means of prolonging his life, which could not have gone on\nmuch longer without a fatal issue. I thanked Heaven that I had been so\nimportunate. After ten weeks the patient came home. He was not to give\nup his crutch immediately, but he could bear some weight on his foot,\nwhich would have to be provided with a cork soled shoe, as his leg had\nshortened somewhat.\n\nI was quite engrossed with Mr. Le Moyne's business until along in the\nwinter. Then we went to Spain, and saw Madrid, Granada and other famous\ncities; the great fortress at Gibraltar, and crossed the beautiful sea\nto the Bay of Naples, sojourned a brief while in Florence and Rome, went\nup into Switzerland, Germany, Holland, then down to Paris again, where\nI received my fortune. And here Ruth and I were married at the embassy,\nwith many friends to wish us Godspeed. Mr. Gaynor was a very happy man.\nHe limped a little and used a cane, but could get about so easily that\nhe declared he had renewed his youth. Mother was delighted and admitted\nthat she had always coveted Ruth.\n\nAh! what happy days those were. We went to England and her two\ntributaries. Mother declared that I kissed the Blarney stone. She had\nbecome quite a foreigner.\n\nHow would we ever endure Chicago again?\n\nBut one evening, as Ruth's head lay on my shoulder, and her sweet mouth\njust where I could heap kisses upon it, she said:\n\n\"Oh, Norman, I would like to go home. And I know father is longing for\nit. Everything is beautiful, but I want to ramble about the old places.\nI want to think of the days when I was a little girl and see the spot\nwhere I first came to you.\"\n\nHad she always been mine? It seemed so now. The other life was like a\ndream.\n\nTwo years had passed away. I am afraid we were a little disenchanted at\nfirst. But here were all the old friends\u2014very few of them had dropped\nout of life. Brave Jesse Walker, the pioneer Methodist preacher, was\namong the first to welcome mother. And there was Mr. Porter, whose wife\nhad been our earliest school teacher, two or three of the ex-mayors,\nMr. Hubbard and the Doles of my boyhood and many another.\n\nThe town had not stood still. But the most wonderful thing to me was\nthe invincible push and perseverance and industry, the resolve to\nestablish a great city on those foundation stones, not ancestry, not\nmere intellectuality. All roads should lead to it as they had to old\nRome. Some were started, others planned and there were great dreams. It\nseemed queer after the finished aspect of the Old World.\n\nThe Sontieffs had done very well indeed. Both wives had come, a somewhat\nsevere-looking middle-aged mother, who was sweet and tender at heart, a\nrather pretty, light-haired young wife of some German stock a generation\nor two back, and two very foreign-looking children, such as we had seen\nin groups in the old cities.\n\nThe men had been informing themselves in American ways and methods. They\nwould go farther back and buy government land. Already quite a colony\nhad been formed and two men had been sent out prospecting. It was to\nbe not far from the great canal, but now railroads were being planned.\nCalifornia had given an impetus to us. The Pacific was to be our western\nboundary. We would not even stop at the Rocky Mountains, and have not\nthose brilliant dreams been fulfilled? Has Chicago proved herself a mere\nbraggart?\n\nYoung John Gaynor was a man grown, and as we found soon afterward, had\na sweetheart, a fine sturdy, honest-looking young fellow with the breezy\nvoice one insensibly acquires when the spaces are wide.\n\nHomer suggested father very strongly to me. He was building, buying\nand selling, preferring the nimble sixpence to the slow shilling. They\nhad a new little girl, and they called her Bessy. Sophie was stout and\nenergetic, a lovely mother. Nanette had a little family also, and it\nseemed as if the population had increased rapidly.\n\nBen had one year more in the law school. He was coming back to Chicago.\n\n\"I want a place to draw a good long breath,\" he said. \"Out here there\nis room for new States and cities, and a man can forge up to the head\nsooner. It makes me laugh to hear those Eastern people talk. They think\nthey have it all. Some day they will wake up mightily surprised.\"\n\nChris was doing well and growing really handsome in a more spiritual\nfashion than any of the other of us boys. He was mother's darling, after\nall.\n\nIt was about autumn before we were truly settled. Mother was to remain\nwith us. The house was enlarged a little and renovated, and partly new\nfurnished. Mother had her furniture in her two rooms, she fancied she\nmight like to keep house by herself, but she never did.\n\nCertainly there was not a happier man in Chicago than John Gaynor,\nunless it was myself. He trotted about inspecting the new elevators, the\nnew vessels, gathering statistics, as if he were a newspaper reporter.\nHe had not given up what he called his scribbling habit, and his delight\nwas to draw comparisons with the peasantry of the Old World and the New\nWorld that had no peasantry.\n\nThat Christmas morning a new little girl came to Chicago. The other\nlittle girl was only a memory now, just as Old Chicago was fast\nbecoming a memory. But you often heard a group of men exchanging old\nreminiscences of the time they first came in the early thirties, with\na small amount of money on hand, some none at all, going to work with\nhearty good will.\n\nJohn Gaynor had thought nothing could make him happier than the return\nto his native land, but I think his cup ran over that Christmas morning.\n\nThere came now and then an unfortunate year, perhaps that is not the\nterm, a less fortunate year, but Chicago travelled on at her steady\npace. West of us were growing up other great States, other cities,\ncrowds of people coming to be fed and housed and finding room to grow\nbroad not only in physique, but in mind and endeavor. So we travelled\nover in the sixties, when there were ominous clouds gathering and there\nwas a larger question to struggle for than bread and shelter.\n\nJohn Gaynor went on adding field to field. I laughed at him for a mania.\n\"Ground is a good enough investment for me,\" he would say. \"Thieves\ncan't steal it and fire can't burn it up.\" But Homer and I were joining\nforces in building stores and warehouses. For now we were connected with\nmost of the country with railroads. How could we have brought in the\ngrain in ox-carts?\n\nThen followed the four years of the terrible Civil War. Ben, just\ngetting nicely established, threw up his business and went in the army\nwith hundreds of promising young men. The city did its share nobly. Some\ncame back and took their olden places, some were invalided, and many a\nhome was left vacant.\n\nJohn Gaynor returned and made another stalwart plunge in newspaper\nlife. Ben opened a new office and went on to realize his dreams. For now\nChicago again swept on with giant strides. Did any one raise pigs and\nchickens in the space about the house, or even garden truck? We raised\nour town step by step. There were miles of paved streets, and all the\nmodern improvements. The log houses vanished. Stone and marble came in\nand great buildings were reared.\n\nWe were swept onward too, business overtook the old home like a great\nwave, and we went further up the lake front and modernized ourselves.\nSince our Paris sojourn mother had taken kindly to improvements. Homer's\nsons and daughters were growing up. Ruth was married, John Gaynor and\nhis sweetheart had a family clustering about them. Ben was thriving,\nhad captured one or two excellent positions. Chris had gone westward,\na very earnest pioneer worker, and we looked sometime to see him made\na bishop.\n\nThose were happy years. We had a little flock of four, and though\ngrandfather was proud of the sturdy boys, baby Ruth, the first born,\nwas, I think, the dearest of all to him. The last darling was Bess. They\nwould always be family names.\n\nWe had had one other tremendous flood to submerge a part of the city.\nThen great pains had been taken to protect us from the overflow of\nthe lake. We studied security more than money. When we looked at the\nsplendid buildings did we ever say to ourselves: \"This is the great\nBabylon we have builded!\"\n\nThere had been a long, dry hot spell. Late corn had withered and\nscorched up before ripening. Winter wheat was parched. Our pretty\nflower garden was watered assiduously, and the lawn, but the blossoms\ndrooped, the grass turned brown. What sweltering days they were those\nSeptember days, with the glowing, pitiless sun that set in a bed of\nflames that scorched up the kindly dews. It did not seem as if there\nwas any moisture left in the lake. What would we have done without our\nsplendid water-works!\n\nThen October came in. We had talked of a journey up in Michigan for a\nlittle relief, but fortunately we had not gone.\n\nThere came up a strong southwest breeze and we took courage, although\nthere was not a cloud in the sky. \"But it must rain presently,\" we all\nsaid.\n\nSitting there on the porch, which was quite a high one, we saw the\nspires of flame shooting up skyward. It was so far away that we only\nlooked and commented. Whether it was the unfortunate kick of Mrs.\nO'Leary's cow that sent the lighted lamp over in the hay, as is the\ncommonly received version, or some other fatal incident, the fire broke\nout in a crowded portion of the city, where old rookeries abounded,\nalways a menace. One almost felt it would safeguard the city to have\nthem burn down, and burn they did. Whether any more vigorous work or\nalarm could have prevented the spread no one could decide afterward.\n\nBut by midnight the conflagration was overwhelming. Fire and wind swept\nin wild fury. It came northward in two grand, separate columns, tossing\nits firebrands to the right and the left, and then it made a mighty\nsweep over the river. Was there ever anything like it for sublimity\nand terror? The brute creation was crazed. Horses ran wildly about,\nroared and kicked, the air was filled with cries and screams of maddened\npeople. On and on it flew, whirling great masses of flame from one point\nto another. Grand hotels, warehouses, stored full of valuables, the\nChamber of Commerce, the banks, the great shopping palace of Fields,\nLeiter & Co.\u2014it was no respecter of persons.\n\nWe had sent the two smaller children to bed tired out, but we could not\ngo, fascinated with terror. I knew a great part of my investments were\nswallowed up\u2014that Homer would lose much of the work of his life. This\nway and that it dashed. Stone and marble crumbled and went down. There\nhad been the burning Rome and Alexander's orgie at Persepolis\u2014were they\nto be compared to this?\n\nWe had thought ourselves safe, but the demon flew on and on. Nothing\ncould withstand him. We began to pick up our valuables and load whatever\nwagons we had and send them out toward Lincoln Park. The streets were\nfull of crying, shrieking, homeless people. And when it came nearer,\nnearer, we, too, joined the throng, but we were all safe together and\nmade our way out where the air was not quite so dense with smoke, and\nat length dropped on the brown, shrivelled grass, and clasped our arms\nabout each other.\n\nIt has been written over many times, the loss and ruin, the indomitable\nenergy of the people, the suffering and the courage, the heartiness\nwith which every one set about mending his broken fortunes and helping\nhis neighbors. Safes and money had perished. But the grand spontaneous\noutburst of sympathy, the proffers of help from other cities was\ncheering in the extreme. With one voice they said, and we said, Chicago\nmust be rebuilt in a better and more enduring shape. It is true that\nmany solid structures had gone with the flimsy ones.\n\nThere was no more Old Chicago. And the Little Girl had come to middle\nlife, but her eyes had the old light, her lips were soft and sweet as\nshe kissed me that morning in the midst of our desolation.\n\n\"We have each other,\" she said, \"and our children and father and mother.\"\n\nAre some people \"born for luck?\" as the saying is. If so, surely John\nGaynor was. He had sold his summer crops and a good part of his corn,\nand the day the money was paid him turned it over on a new purchase of\nprairie land he had made. If it had been in the bank it would have gone\nto feed the flames.\n\n\"I told you land wouldn't burn up,\" he said. \"We have the sure promise\nuntil the last great conflagration.\"\n\nBut my row of stores and buildings were gone. I was a poor man and must\nbegin the struggle with business again, if one could find anything to\ndo in such devastation. Homer had fared better. Mother and Ruth and the\nchildren accepted their hospitality for the winter.\n\nJohn Gaynor was near seventy, but brisk and hearty and helpful, hopeful,\ntoo, I ought to say. He would have enough to start the four children in\nlife. Why should I worry about them?\n\nHow Chicago arose from its ashes, stronger, more magnificent, more\ndurable, and still kept stretching out its thews and sinews in every\ndirection is a matter long since gone into history. Banks, hotels,\npublic buildings and stores could be restored in a more durable manner,\nstreets widened and improved, parks and squares added, but many things\ncould not be replaced. The grand collection of the Historical Society,\nand the great Emancipation Proclamation, next to the Declaration\nof Independence, the Chicago Library, with books and archives, and\nengravings of old houses and old streets, even then forgotten by many,\nwith other valuable articles that could not be duplicated. Truly, Old\nChicago had been swept away.\n\nDid we sit down and weep over the vast ruin such as had never befallen\nany city? There were starving women and children to have food and\nshelter, and those who had shared joyfully with these. All that was best\nand noblest and broadest in humanity came out then. The kindliness, the\npluck and the courage was something wonderful amid all that destitution\nand desolation.\n\nLike a romance Chicago rose from her ruins and ashes to be grander than\nany one had dreamed, and her men again worked their way up to prosperity\nwith indomitable energy. Homer lost less than I, but it was enough to\nmake us poor men. John Gaynor started in afresh with his paper with\ncheery Yankee spirit. Ben's stock was largely ambitions, and he lived\nto realize upon them.\n\nI prospered to some extent afterward and we had a happy time. We went\nout of our own city by railroad to San Francisco. We went up to Oregon,\nsouth to famous cities. We were the centre of the country, we were the\ngranary of the West, the East. We helped to feed the starving nations of\nEurope, that less than sixty years before had believed us an uncouth,\nhalf-Indian people and doubted if any good could come out of Nazareth.\nIt was done by persevering industry, by largeness of aim, by sterling\nintegrity, by the great love of every citizen for his native city, and\nthe desire to see her stand in the front rank.\n\nWe built our new house near the lake front again. Little Ruth married\nwhen she was barely seventeen, and John Gaynor lived to hold his\ngreat-grandson in his arms. A cheerful, happy man, going down the great\ndecline peaceful and content, followed not long after by mother, who was\nsometimes afraid she had had too many of the good things in this life,\nbut she had always been pitiful to the Lazarus at the gate and not left\nhim to be nursed by dogs.\n\nWhen Chicago reared the magnificent White City, the like of which\nno one had yet attempted, we were in the older generation with our\ngrandchildren about us. They never tire of hearing how grandmamma\ntravelled from Massachusetts in a big country wagon, with all the\nhousehold goods they could carry, crossing New York and Ohio, stopping\nby the way to catch fish or shoot game and cooking by the wayside in\na stone fireplace, sleeping in the wagon, sometimes roused by wild\nanimals, occasionally meeting Indians, and at last reaching Chicago and\ngrandpapa. It is better than the best of their gilded and engraved fairy\nbooks.\n\nWhat days we spent in the White City inspecting the treasures of our\nown and other countries! What a wonder electricity and the telephone\nwas, and a hundred other things. And the great city stretching out along\nthe lake, southward, westward, northward, its railroads running swiftly\nto and fro, its streets a busy hive of the industry that has made her\nfamous.\n\nThe trolleys go everywhere and at times we ramble in them or out of\nthem. Here is old Fort Dearborn with the tablet to mark its memory. Did\nwe loiter about it and sit on the steps and recapitulate the massacre?\nAnd here was the old Kinzie house, where the San Domingo trader had\nhis cabin, and here the first school I went to, here the old Towner\nlog cabin where the Little Girl lived, and I used to come in and help\nher get supper, and we read that dear, delightful, stirring \"Lady of\nthe Lake.\" Here we went to Sunday School and walked home together. But\ndearest of all is the old house where we five boys were born and brought\nup, because here I first saw the Little Girl as her father lifted her\nout of the wagon and I glanced into her sapphire blue eyes and loved\nher forever after.\n\nNone of them are there. We look at them through the wizard glass of\nmemory. There is no more Little Girl, there is no more Old Chicago.\n\nThen we kiss each other and go our way. We have lived and loved.\n\n\nTHE END","title":"A Little Girl in Old Chicago","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":84754}