Kitabı oku: «The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe: or, There's No Place Like Home», sayfa 16
CHAPTER XX
WHEREIN THE OLD SHOE BECOMES CROWDED
They trooped up the narrow stairs. Why, the old loom-room looked like a palace! Hal had made some very pretty brackets out of pine, and stained them; and they were ranged round the wall, upholding a pot of flowers or trailing vines, and two or three little plaster casts. Here were some bookshelves, the table surmounted by a very passable writing-desk, Hal's construction also. But the flowers were a marvel.
"Hal's dream was a green-house," exclaimed Florence. "But I don't see how you found time for it all" —
"It has been profit as well as pleasure," said Hal with a little pride. "Last winter I sold a quantity of flowers, and, in the spring, bedding-plants and garden vegetables."
"Oh!" returned Florence, choking back the sobs, "do you remember one summer day, long, long ago, when we all told over what we would like to have happen to us? And it has all come about."
"Even to my fiddle," said Kit.
"And my running away," appended Charlie with great satisfaction.
Hal brought in some chairs.
"We're going to sit in the corner on the floor," said Charlie; and the three younger ones ranged themselves in a small group.
Florence and her husband walked round to view the flowers, guided by Joe.
"You appear to have wonderful success," remarked Mr. Darol. "These tuberoses are very fine."
"They were frosted about ten days ago, and have hardly recovered. That is, I lost most of my blossoms."
"Oh, what a pity!"
"And all our Christmas money," said Dot softly.
"No matter," returned Charlie. "You can have all of mine. I meant every penny of it for Granny."
"And now I want to hear what you have been doing all these years. I know it was my own act that shut me out of your joys and sorrows; but if you will take me back" – and the voice was choked with tears.
Hal pressed the soft hand.
"You will find Edmund a brother to you all," she went on. "It is my shame, that after my marriage, knowing that I could come any time, I hesitated to take the step."
"It is a poor old house," exclaimed Hal tremulously.
"But holds more love and heroism than many grander mansions," Mr. Darol said in his deep, manly tone. "Florence is right: I should like to be a brother to you all. I honored Charlie before I fancied that I should ever have a dearer claim."
"And I've been a sort of black sheep," returned Charlie frankly. "Hal and Joe are the heroes in this family."
"It is so wonderful to have Joe safe!"
"And to think how sad we were last night," Dot began. "We did not expect any one to help us keep Christmas but Kit."
"O Dot! tell me all about it," said Charlie eagerly. "I do like to hear it so. And how Joe came home."
Dot was a little shy at first; but presently she commenced at Hal's losing the school, Granny's sickness, Joe's shipwreck, the trouble and sorrow that followed in succession, the misfortune of the flowers, and then she came to the night when Granny wanted to die and go to heaven. Only last night; but oh, how far off it appeared! She told it very simply, but with such unconscious pathos that they were all crying softly Florence leaned her head on her husband's shoulder, hiding her face.
"And I never knew a word of it!" exclaimed Charlie with the quiver of tears in her voice. "I didn't want to tell you about my going, for fear you'd worry over me, or, if I should be disappointed, you would feel it all the more keenly. But I never thought any thing sad could happen to you."
"I should like to hear the first part of Charlie's adventures," said Mr. Darol. "How did she come to know that she had a genius?"
"She used to be punished enough in school for drawing comical faces," answered Joe. "Little did Mr. Fielder think that you would make an artist!"
"But I planned then to run away and live in the woods. I believe I once took you off, Kit."
"Yes; and we were threatened with the jail, weren't we, because we made a fire. But how you did talk, Charlie! You were always splendid on the fighting side."
"I was made to go right straight ahead," said Charlie. "And, if I had been afraid, I should never have done any thing."
"And we want to hear how you did it," pursued Mr. Darol.
So Charlie related her trials and perplexities, her fruitless journeys, and her vain endeavors, until she met Mr. Paul Darol, who seemed to understand just what she wanted.
"I don't see how you had the courage," Florence remarked. "And if I'd only known you were there, Charlie!"
Charlie shrugged her shoulders. Now that the fight had been made, and terminated successfully, she was rather glad to have gone into it single-handed: not from any vanity, but a kind of sturdy independence that had always characterized Charlie Kenneth.
And then they rambled farther back, to the time of Hal's sad accident. Perhaps the most truly noble thing about them was their fearlessness and honesty. They were not ashamed of the poverty and struggle: there was no petty deceit or small shams to cover the truth.
Ah, what heroic lives they had all been, in a simple way! For it is not only in great matters that men and women must fight: it is the truth and endurance and perseverance which they bring into every-day events that moulds character. Not a poor, false, or useless soul among them, unless it was hers, Florence thought.
Hal stole down a time or two to see Granny, who had fallen into a peaceful sleep. And presently the old clock struck ten. Dot and Kit were nodding.
"I am going to put you in our old room," Hal said to Florence. "It is the best I can do."
"No: let me sit up and watch with Granny."
"That is not at all necessary. Last night she was nervous. I fancy she was haunted by a dim impression of impending change, and thought it must mean death. Instead, it was the dearest of joys."
"O Hal! I don't feel worthy to come among you. Not simply because I chose to go away, to have luxury and ease and idleness, while you were in want and sorrow; for in those old days I thought only of myself. But, a few months after I was married, Mrs. Osgood died, and I was quite free to choose. Don't shrink away from me Hal, though the cowardice has in it so much of vile ingratitude. I had not the courage to be true to my secret longings. She had filled my weak soul with her beliefs; and I persuaded myself that my debt to her was greater than that to my own kindred."
"O Florence, hush! let it all go, since you have come back," pleaded unselfish Hal.
"And then my precious baby came. Hardly four months ago. He had your tender eyes, Hal; and they used to reproach me daily. But I made a hundred excuses and delays. And then God took him, to let me feel what a wrench the soul endures when its cherished ones are removed. All these years I have been like one dead to you, without the sweet comfort of those who know their treasures are safe in heaven. When we came back from his grave yesterday, I told Edmund my deeper shame and anguish, my disloyalty to those who had the first claim. And if any of you had been dead, if I could never have won Granny's forgiveness, ah, how heavy my burden would have proved!"
"But we all consented to your going," Hal said, longing to comfort her.
"Because you knew how weak and foolish I was, with my sinfully ambitious longings. And oh, if my husband had been less noble!"
"You shall not so blame yourself on this blessed Christmas night. Is there not to be peace on earth, and tenderness and good will for all? And it seems as if you never could have come back at a more precious moment."
Hal, foolish boy, cried a little in her arms. It was so sweet to have her here.
After a while the children were all disposed of. Hal apologized to Joe for the rather close and fragrant quarters.
"Don't worry, old comrade. When you've slept on a whale's backbone, or a couple of inches of tarred rope, you take any thing cheerfully, from a hammock to a bed of eider down."
Kit cuddled in his arms. Dear old Joe was the best and bravest of heroes to him.
Hal threw himself on the lounge, covered with shawls and overcoats, for the bedclothes were insufficient to go around. He laughed softly to himself. Such a houseful as this the "Old Shoe" had never known before. What was poverty and trouble now? A kind of ghostly phantom, that vanished when one came near it. Why, he had never felt so rich in all his life!
Granny was none the worse the next morning for her excitement. Dot bathed her face, combed out the tiny silver curls, and put on a fresh wrapper. Charlie helped get breakfast, though she was not as deft-handed as Dot. The two tables were set again; and, when they brought Granny out, she was more than proud of her family.
That seemed to be a gala-day for all Madison. When the news was once started, it spread like wild-fire. Joe Kenneth wasn't drowned after all, but had come back safe, a great, tall, handsome fellow. Florence had returned with her fine-looking husband; and wild, queer Charlie had actually been transformed into the family beauty.
"There never was a finer set of children in Madison," said Mr. Terry, clearing his voice of a little huskiness. "And to think they're Joe Kenneth's poor orphans! I tell you what! Granny Kenneth has been one woman out of a thousand. Didn't everybody say she had better let the youngsters go to the poor-house. And now they're a credit to the town. Think of Joe being praised in the papers as he was! That went to my heart, – his giving up a chance for life to some one else. He's a brave fellow, and handsome as a picture. There isn't a girl but would jump at the chance of marrying him. He will be a captain before he is five years older, mark my words."
Dr. Meade was brimful of joy also. He kissed Charlie, and laughed at her for running away, and was much astonished to find how fortunate she had been But Joe was everybody's idol.
"I think some of you ought to be spared," exclaimed the good doctor. "I don't see where you were all stowed last night. I have two or three rooms at your service; and, indeed, am quite willing to take you all in. But, anyhow, Kit and Joe might come for lodgings."
"We put them in the flower-room," said Charlie.
"Which accounts for their blooming appearance, I suppose;" and the doctor pinched Charlie's ear.
Between themselves, they had endless talks. It seemed as if all the stories would never get told. And, strangely enough, they came to pity poor Flossy, who, among them all, had the only lasting sorrow.
Charlie took to Mr. Darol at once; and before the day ended they were all fast friends.
"I think yours is a most remarkable family," he said to Florence. "There is not one of the children but what you might be proud of anywhere."
"I am so glad you can love them!" and the grateful tears were in her eyes.
"And, when we return home, it seems as if we ought to take Charlie. There she will have just the position she needs."
"O Edmund! I don't deserve that you should be so good to me. I was longing to ask it. But I have been so weak and foolish!"
"My darling, that is past. I will say now, that my only misgiving about you has been the apparent forgetfulness of old family ties. But I knew you were young when you left your home, and that Mrs. Osgood insisted upon this course; besides, I never could tell how worthy they were of fond remembrance."
"And did not dream that I could be so basely ungrateful!" she answered in deepest shame. "I abhor myself: I have forfeited your respect."
"Hush, dear! Let it all be buried in our child's grave. Perhaps his death was the one needful lesson. And now that we have found them all, we must try to make amends."
Florence sobbed her deep regret, nestling closely to his heart.
"Your brother Hal interests me so much! It seems that he will always feel the result of his accident in some degree, on account of a strained tendon. He has such a passionate love for flowers, and the utmost skill in their care and culture. But he ought to have a wider field for operations."
"Oh!" she said, "if we could help him. Charlie has worked her way so energetically, that she only needs counsel and guidance. Kit and Dot are still so young!"
"I don't wonder Uncle Paul was attracted. There is something very bright and winsome about Charlie. I had to laugh at her naïve confession of being a black sheep."
"She used to be so boyish and boisterous! not half as gentle as dear Hal."
"But it seems to be toned down to a very becoming piquancy;" and he smiled.
"How very odd that she should have met your uncle!" Florence said musingly. "How surprised he will be!"
Dr. Meade came over again that evening, and insisted upon the boys accepting his hospitality; so Joe and Kit were packed into the sleigh, and treated sumptuously.
Granny continued to improve, and could sit up for quite a while. She enjoyed having them all around her so much! It was like the old time, when the gay voices made the house glad.
And so the days passed, busy, and absolutely merry.
Charlie and Florence helped cook, and Joe insisted upon showing how he could wash dishes. On Sunday they all went to church except Dot, – Granny would have it so.
On Monday Mr. Darol came. Charlie had given him very explicit directions, but she was hardly expecting him so soon. Sitting by the window she saw him coming down the street in a thoughtful manner, as if he were noting the landmarks.
"O Mr. Darol!" and she sprang to the door, nearly overturning Dot.
"Yes: you see I have been as good as my word. How bright you look! So there was nothing amiss at home?"
"Indeed there was! but, in spite of it, we have all been so happy! For everybody came home at Christmas, even Joe, whom they thought drowned. This is my little sister Dot. And oh, this is my brother Hal!"
Mr. Darol clasped the hand of one, and gave the other a friendly pat on the soft golden hair.
"I dare say Charlie has told you all about me: if she has not she is a naughty girl. Why" —
For in the adjoining room sat Florence, close to Granny's chair. No wonder he was amazed.
"That's Florence, and you've seen her before. And Mr. Edmund Darol is here," went on Charlie in a graciously explanatory manner.
"They are my brothers and sisters," said Florence with a scarlet flush.
He looked at her in deep perplexity.
"Mrs. Osgood adopted Florence," Charlie interposed again. "It was all her fault; for she would not allow the relation to be kept up, and" —
"This is your grandmother?" he interrupted almost sharply, feeling unconsciously bitter against Florence.
"This is dear Granny."
He took the wrinkled hand, not much larger than a child's, for all it had labored so long and faithfully.
"Mrs. Kenneth," he said, "I am proud to make your acquaintance. One such child as Charlie would be glory enough."
Charlie fairly danced with delight to see Granny so honored in her old days. And as for the poor woman, she was prouder than a queen.
"You've been so good to her!" she murmured tremulously, nodding her head at Charlie.
"She is a brave girl, even if she did run away. I have used my best efforts to make her sorry for it."
"But oh! Mr. Darol, the work was all undone as soon as I came home. For when I found them sick, and full of trouble, it seemed so good to be able to take care of myself, that I think running away the most fortunate step of my whole life."
"I am afraid that we shall never bring you to a proper state of penitence;" and he laughed.
"You were so good to her!" said Granny again, as if she had nothing but gratitude in her soul.
"It was a great pleasure to me. But I never dreamed that I had made the acquaintance of one of your family before."
"He will never like me so well again," thought Florence; "but that is part of my punishment. I have been full of pride and cowardice."
Mr. Darol made himself at home in a very few moments, for he was interested beyond measure.
"It is a poor place," ruminated Charlie, glancing round; "but we cannot help it, I'm sure. All of us have done our best."
Then she dismissed the subject with her usual happy faculty, and became wonderfully entertaining; so much so, indeed, that, when Mr. Darol glanced at his watch, he said, —
"In about half an hour my train goes down to the city. I have not said half that I wanted to. I have not seen your brother Joe, nor the hot-house; and what am I to do?"
"Stay," replied Charlie; and then she colored vividly. "Our house is so small that it will not hold any more; but Dr. Meade has already taken in Kit and Joe, and he is just splendid!"
Mr. Darol laughed.
"Are there any hotel accommodations?"
"Oh, yes! at the station."
"Then I think I will remain; for my visit isn't half finished, and I am not satisfied to end it here."
Charlie was delighted.
After that they went up to the flower-room. It seemed to improve every day, and was quite a nest of sweets.
"So Miss Charlie hasn't all the family genius," said Mr. Darol. "It is not every one who can make flowers grow under difficulties."
"They were nipped a little about the middle of the month. One night my fire went out."
"And it blighted the flowers he meant to cut in a few days," explained Charlie, "so that at first there did not seem a prospect of a very merry Christmas."
And Charlie slipped her hand within Mr. Darol's, continuing, in a whisper, "I can never tell you how glad I was to have the money. It was like the good fortune in a fairy story."
He looked at the beaming, blushing face with its dewy eyes. Ah! he little guessed, the day he first inspected Charlie Kenneth's drawings, that all this pleasure was to arise from a deed of almost Quixotic kindness.
Yet he wondered more than ever how she had dared to undertake such a quest. Strangely courageous, earnest, and simple-hearted, with the faith of a child, and the underlying strength of a woman, – it seemed as if there might be a brilliant and successful future before her.
And this delicate brother with a shadow in his eyes like the drifts floating over an April sky, – he, too, needed a friend to give him a helping hand. Who could do it better than he, whose dearest ones were sleeping in quiet, far-off graves?
CHAPTER XXI
HOW THE DREAMS CAME TRUE
Charlie insisted upon Mr. Darol remaining to supper; and he was nothing loth.
"Dear me!" exclaimed Dot, "we shall have to echo the crow's suggestive query, —
'The old one said unto his mate,
"What shall we do for food to ate?"'"
"Make some biscuit or a Johnny-cake," said Charlie, fertile in expedients. "Dot, I've just discovered the bent of your budding mind."
"What?" asked the child, tying on a large apron.
"Keeping a hotel. Why, it's been elegant for almost a week! – a perfect crowd, and not a silver fork or a goblet, or a bit of china; rag-carpet on the floor, and a bed in the best room. Nothing but happiness inside and out! Even the ravens haven't cried. You see, it isn't money, but a contented mind, a kitchen apron, a saucepan, and a genius for cooking."
"But you must have something to cook," was Dot's sage comment.
"True, my dear. Words of priceless wisdom fall from your young lips, – diamonds and pearls actually! Now, if you will tell me what to put in a cake" —
"A pinch of this, and a pinch of that," laughed Dot. "I am afraid to trust your unskilful hands; so you may wait upon me. Open the draught, and stir the fire: then you may bring me the soda and the sour milk, and beat the eggs – oh, there in the basket!"
"Dot, my small darling, spare me! I am in a hopeless confusion. Your brain must be full of shelves and boxes where every article is labelled. One thing at a time."
"The fire first, then."
Dot sifted her flour, and went to work. Charlie sang a droll little song for her, and then set the table. Their supper was a decided success. Edmund came in, and was delighted to see his uncle. There was hero Joe, gay as a sky-full of larks. It didn't seem as if any of them had ever known trouble or sorrow. Even Granny gave her old chirruping laugh.
The next day they had some serious talks. Hal and Mr. Darol slipped into a pleasant confidence.
"I've been thinking over your affairs with a good deal of interest," he said. "It seems to me that you need a larger field for profitable operations. I should not think Madison quite the place for a brilliant success. You need to be in the vicinity of a large city. And, since three of the others will be in New York principally, it certainly would be better for you. Would your grandmother object to moving?"
"I don't know," Hal answered thoughtfully.
"Floriculture is becoming an excellent business. Since you have such a decided taste for it, you can hardly fail. I should recommend Brooklyn, Jersey City, or Harlem. Besides the flowers, there is a great demand for bedding-plants. You haven't any other fancy?" and he studied Hal's face intently.
Hal's lip quivered a moment. "It was my first dream, and I guess the best thing that I can do. I could not endure hard study, or any thing like that. Yes, I have decided it."
"I wish you would make me a visit very soon, and we could look around, and consider what step would be best. You must forgive me for taking a fatherly interest in you all. I love young people so much!"
Hal's eyes sparkled with delight. He did not wonder that Charlie had told her story so fearlessly to him.
"You are most kind. I don't know how to thank you."
"You can do that when you are successful;" and he laughed cordially.
They had all taken Flossy's husband into favor, and their regard was fully returned by him. Indeed, they appeared to him a most marvellous little flock. As for Florence, the awe and strangeness with which she had first impressed them was fast wearing off. As her better soul came to light, she seemed to grow nearer to them, as if the years of absence were being bridged over. Fastidious she would always be in some respects, but never weakly foolish again. She had come to understand a few of the nobler truths of life, learned through suffering, – that there was a higher enjoyment than that of the senses, or the mere outward uses of beauty.
They all appreciated the manner in which she made herself at home. They gave her the best they had, to be sure; and she never pained them by any thoughtless allusion to her luxuries. She had not lost her old art with the needle, and Dot's dresses were renovated in such a manner that she hardly knew them.
Granny would never allow her to regret her going with Mrs. Osgood.
"It was all right," she would say cheerfully. "The good Lord knew what was best. I don't mind any of it now, – the losses and crosses, the sorrows and sicknesses, and all the hard work. Your poor father would be glad if he could see you, and I've kept my promise to him. So don't cry, dearie. If you hadn't gone away, I shouldn't 'a' known how sweet it was to have you come back."
Florence and Mr. Darol made their preparations to return. They decided to take Charlie back with them, and install her in her new home; though Charlie did not exactly like the prospect of having her visit abridged.
"I meant to stay all this week," she said decisively. "I cannot have another vacation until next summer."
"But you will go back with me to my sad house, and help me to forget my baby's dead face," Florence returned beseechingly. "O Charlie! I do mean to be a true and fond sister to you if you will let me."
So Charlie consented; though she would much rather have staid, and had a "good time" with Dot and Hal.
"If Florence was not here, I should like to perch myself on a chair-back, and whistle 'Hail Columbia' to all the world. Dear old shoe! What sights of fun we have had in it! I am rather sorry that I'll soon be a woman. Oh, dear! You always do have some trouble, don't you?"
"Charlie, Charlie!" and Dot shook her small forefinger.
Joe was going too. "But I shall be back in a few days," he said to Granny.
"O Joe! if you wouldn't go to sea any more, – and when you've been a'most drowned" —
"O Granny! best mother in the world, do not feel troubled about me. We are a family of geniuses, and I am the duckling that can't stay brooded under mother-wings. It's my one love, and I should be a miserable fish if you kept me on dry land. I have been offered a nice position to go to Charleston; and as I am not rich, and have not the gout, I can't afford to retire on a crust. But you'll see me every little while; and you'll be proud enough of me when I get to be a captain."
Granny felt that she could not be any prouder of him if he was a king.
There was a great thinning-out again. Kit bemoaned the lonesomeness of the place; but Dot's housewifely soul was comforted with the hope of a good clearing-up time.
In two days Joe returned.
"Florence is as elegant as a queen," he reported; "not the grandest or richest, but every thing in lovely style. Charlie went wild over the pictures. And there are great mirrors, and marble statues, and carpets as soft as spring-hillsides. You never imagined, Granny, that one of us would attain to such magnificence, did you?"
Granny listened in wide-eyed wonder, and bobbed her little curls.
"And Darol's a splendid fellow! Flossy always did have the luck!"
That night Hal and Joe slept in the old room, which Joe declared seemed good.
"We had a long talk about you, Hal. Mr. Paul Darol is wonderfully interested in you. He is just as good and generous as he can be, and has two beautiful rooms at a hotel. You know, in the old dream, it was Flossy who was to meet with a benevolent old gentleman: instead, it has been Charlie, the queer little midget. What a youngster she has been!"
"She is as good as gold."
"Mr. Darol thinks her the eighth wonder of the world. But he wants you to have the green-house; and I said I intended to help you to it. When he found that we did not mean to take any thing as a gift, he offered to loan the whole amount, to be paid as you were prospered."
"How very, very generous!" said Hal with a long breath.
"It was most kind; but you cannot do much here. I believe I like the Brooklyn project best."
"I wonder if Granny would consent to leave Madison?"
"I think she will. You see, I can spend a good deal of time with you then."
Joe was to start again the middle of January. Granny fretted at first; but dear, merry Joe finally persuaded her that it was the best thing in the world.
Hal could not help shedding a few quiet tears, but then they had a glowing letter from Charlie. She and Florence had actually been to call on Mrs. Wilcox in their own carriage. They had taken her and Mary Jane a pretty gift; and Mrs. Wilcox was, to use her own expression, "clear beat." And Charlie declared that she was living like a princess. She could come home, and spend almost any Sunday with them.
While Hal was considering how best to inform Granny of the new project, circumstances opened the way. In the march of improvement at Madison, an old lane was to be widened, and straightened into a respectable street; and one end of it would run through the old Kenneth cottage.
Poor old Shoe! Its days were numbered. But there were no more rollicking children to tumble in and out of windows, or transform the dusty garret into a bedlamic palace. And yet Granny could not be consoled, or even persuaded.
"I never could take root anywhere else, Hal, dear," she said, shaking her head sadly.
"But the old house has been patched and patched; it leaks everywhere; and a good, strong gust of wind might blow it over. We should not want to be in the ruins, I'm sure. Then, Granny, think of being so near all the children!"
Granny was very grave for several days; but one evening she said with a tremor in her voice, —
"Hal dear, I am a poor old body, and I shall never be worth any thing again. I don't know as it makes much difference, after all, if you will only promise to bring me back, and lay me alongside of my dear Joe."
Hal promised with a tender kiss.
Dr. Meade used to bundle Granny up in shawls, and take her out in his old-fashioned gig; and, by the time Joe came back, he declared she was a good deal better than new, and the dearest grandmother in the world. I think she was, myself, even if she was little and old and wrinkled, and had a cracked voice.
They formed a great conspiracy against her, and took her to New York. She never could see how they did it; and Joe insisted that it was "sleight-of-hand," he having learned magic in China. It was very odd and laughable to see her going round Florence's pretty home, leaning on Dot's shoulder, and listening, like a child, to the descriptions of the pictures and bronzes, and confusing the names of different things. But Dot declared that it was right next door to heaven; and, for sweet content, it might have been. Charlie almost went wild.
It seemed, indeed, as if Florence could never do enough to make amends for her past neglect. Edmund Darol treated Granny with the utmost respect and tenderness. He never tired of hearing of their youthful frolics and fun; but Charlie's running away seemed the drollest of all.
Mr. Paul Darol, or Uncle Paul as he had insisted upon being to all the children, took Hal under his especial protection. They visited green-houses, talked with florists, read books, and began to consider themselves quite wise. Then they looked around for some suitable places. At Jersey City they found the nucleus of a hot-house, and a very fair prospect; but, on the outskirts of Brooklyn, they found a pretty cottage and some vacant lots, that appeared quite as desirable.
"Indeed, the neighborhood is much better," said Mr. Darol. "Green-houses could soon be put up, and by fall you might be started in business. I think the sooner the better."
Hal's brown eyes opened wide in astonishment.
"Yes," continued Mr. Darol, with an amused expression, "Joe and I have quite settled matters. He allows me carte blanche for every thing; and, being arbitrary, I like to have my own way. When you decide upon a location, I will take care that it shall be placed within your power."
"You are so good! but I couldn't, I wouldn't dare" – And somehow Hal could not keep the tears out of his eyes.
"I think this Brooklyn place the most desirable. It is on a horse-car route, and near enough to Greenwood to attract purchasers thither. I'll buy the place, and turn it over to you with a twenty-years' mortgage, if you like. You see, I am not giving you any thing but a chance to do for yourself."
