Bm 
 
 
e o ,. . -i oo- 
 
Uearfs' *i)asire iP 
 
GOODNESS, BUT VOU RE SWEET! 
 
 (paSi- 137) 
 
J 
 
 y<^^\ 
 

 
 igaA2oiis« 
 
dllidtratiovs 
 
 
 'GooDVESs, But Y'or'iE *' 
 
 Swxft! ' " . . {Page 137) Frwm&fiece _ ^. 
 
 Thi5 Is My Age Book. I *^ 
 
 Alwai;-5 Carit It,' Us. Ex- ^ 
 
 PLATS'SD " . . . . FacBOg pagc 18 ^ : 
 
 ^ J^ -* - Jaxe. Tell Me. Does ^ 
 S-A>.-TA Cr-AL-5 ^L\KZ Lrr~ 
 
 Thixgs?"" .... " - 32- *^ 
 
 A ilEZOXESS SlLEXCE ReCCXED 
 
 V.HiLE He WATTEri • . . - - 78 ♦■ 
 
 Oh-h: Voc'iE ilr— 
 Re-axly — iloTHEa. .Axrs-T 
 Voc?- .... - - 148- 
 
 
 / 
 
/Vrrd o >»20a r~N<fik,-n -^ 
 
V\ 
 
 ?*f'r*f='!*'=^*==**==*^***=***N 
 
 /i A 
 
 i 
 
 
 John Belden's heart was heavy. He 
 felt as though he had swallowed something 
 big and hard and, whatever it might be, it 
 was growing bigger and harder every min- 
 ute. His legs were tired — his feet dragged 
 as he walked. The load was almost more 
 than he could carry. 
 
 To the passer-by, the little figure in 
 leather leggins, long ulster and close-fitting 
 fez cap plodding through the snow ap- 
 peared as a sleepy, unwilling pedestrian 
 who potentially might, could, would or 
 should be in bed. In the prosaic mind of 
 Jane Austin, who guided his course not 
 only in this particular instance but in most 
 of the affairs of life, the weariness and utter 
 lack of animal spirits was wholly due to 
 the dissipation of the afternoon — his first 
 party, of which she highly disapproved; 
 
 /T 
 
 ^: 
 
 a 
 
 / 
 
 i \ 
 
 \ 
 
•^ --# 
 
 ^% 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 real animosity being entertained toward the 
 chocolate candies and ice cream Santa 
 Claus reposing in John's inner parts. Just ^ ll, 
 at bed-time, too! 
 
 Now it must not be inferred Jane Austin 
 was an ogress, not in the least; but she was 
 fifty, and her world was very small, and 
 sparsely settled, with few outlooks, from 
 which she never looked, and no diversions. 
 
 It had enlarged but little in the past 
 twenty years and at no time admitted much 
 of even primitive ice cream and stick candy, 
 while frivolity in a more definitely alluring 
 guise was not presented for consideration. 
 
 Taking John, a motherless babe a month 
 old, he had been for seven years the axis 
 of her sphere. She circled round him un- 
 ceasingly, varying little in her daily course, 
 and never raising her eyes to see what other 
 people thought, or what the rest of the 
 world was doing, and so, completely ab- 
 sorbed in her one duty, Jane was prone to 
 lose sight of the flight of time and the 
 
 lO 
 
 ^i^k>^ 
 
 w^^^vj-m^ -w^Kj^ i^^^^^^iivs^^^ 
 
% 
 
 w 
 W--'" 
 
 w . 
 
 
 r/jf 
 
 Hearts 
 
 '^ 
 
 Desire 
 
 necessary changes in the regime of a grow- 
 ing boy, and mary regulations governing 
 John as a toddler might still have been 
 in force at the age of seven but for the 
 interference of his father or Aunt Sue, who 
 came once in a while to visit them. And 
 no amendment to the laws of the nursery, 
 or single departure therefrom, was ever 
 accomplished without a vigorous remon- 
 strance from Jane. 
 
 With this glimpse of her character, we 
 may readily surmise that John's enjoyment 
 of the afternoon was a special dispensation 
 of his father's. Jane would never have 
 been guilty of such weakness! 
 
 John Belden was seven, and, of course, 
 his world was small, too. But, unlike 
 Jane's, it was one of boundless possibilities, 
 and its horizon widened daily. For with 
 an inquiring mind of unusually quick per- 
 ception and a loving, responsive nature, he 
 saw much and felt keenlv. 
 
 Each newly discovered wonder and mys- 
 II 
 it 
 
 !f 
 
 •r.v^^/.^ii^^i^iii^^ 
 
 id^m 
 
f 
 
 A 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 tery of the universe appealed to him, from 
 the marvel of the moon and stars to the 
 coming of four teeny-weeny gray kittens to 
 Jane's old cat; kittens that could not see at 
 all, and that were quite too weak to walk 
 even a part of the way. 
 
 And then John's first year of school was 
 opening up such a lot of things to learn and 
 do, and things not to do, that this young 
 idea began to shoot with vigor; not only 
 in prescribed lines, but in spots and direc- 
 tions unforeseen, and, for the curriculum of 
 the school-room, undesired. And the daily 
 companionship of children — that was rap- 
 idly developing his talent for the vicissi- 
 tudes of life. His vision broadening, the 
 whys of the world began to compass him 
 about and with increased sensibilities came 
 definite desire and vague longings. 
 
'ii 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 pression in established, unvarying lines, de- 
 veloped an element of loyalty in him far in 
 excess of any other feeling. And so while 
 he found the faithful loving hand of a 
 mother, he sought in vain for the sympa- 
 thetic understanding of the maternal heart. 
 
 He went to her with his bumps and 
 bruises; he was sure of succor. He knew 
 almost with certainty just what remedy 
 would be applied for each particular kind 
 of wound. He even knew where they, the 
 remedies, were kept. He was conscious, 
 too, that Jane was ever ready to give him 
 anything he wished for that was right for 
 him to have, but his griefs and disappoint- 
 ments, and most cherished dreams, often 
 the fanciful expression of the real needs of 
 
 child, he confided to Adam, and Adam 
 as a dog. 
 
 It was almost six o'clock this December 
 
 '-^r,v^ ^ 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 earlier in the day, but now emerging from 
 the light and warmth of Jo's home into the 
 darkness and cold, somehow everything 
 seemed behind him but bed — and that 
 doesn't count with a boy. Consequently, 
 his mind reverted to the events of the after- 
 noon for comfort, but with poor success, 
 for the very things he recalled with greatest 
 pleasure only served to increase his present 
 gloom. 
 
 Three hours before, he and Jane had 
 passed over the same ground on the way to 
 the party. Then the sun was shining in 
 the world, and in John's heart, and before 
 him lay the object of many days' joyful 
 anticipation. Even Jane's worst forebod- 
 ings had paled a little under his enthusiasm. 
 
 Arriving at the Strongs' house, she had 
 taken him up to remove his wraps and then 
 down-stairs, where she left him scoured 
 within an inch of his life; his hair brushed 
 to stringent smoothness, every line of his 
 attire and character properly adjusted. 
 14 
 
 ^1 
 
 y 
 
 ii- 
 
 \ 
 

 \\ 
 
 %i 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 He found everything quite equal to his 
 expectations, in some regards quite exceed- 
 ing them, since the beautiful and artistic 
 had not figured in his speculations. And 
 there were many of the boys and girls he 
 knew at school and while they, like himself, 
 were at first in the semi-hypnotic state in- 
 duced by parting injunctions and the fear 
 of wrecking the family honor should any 
 one of these by chance be forgotten, 
 a rollicking game of " Blind Man's 
 Buff " had awakened all dormant sensi- 
 bilities and put to rout abnormal moral 
 conditions. 
 
 It was as Blind Man that he first saw 
 Her, and that was really the beginning of 
 things. 
 
 Now John loved the beautiful in every- 
 thing, and She was beautiful — beautiful as 
 the Princess in a fairy tale, in her white 
 gown; and her soft brown hair, radiant 
 smile and the dimple in her chin fascinated 
 him; while the scarlet bandage covering her 
 
 D 1 ; 
 
 h^ 
 
 # /^ 
 
 / 
 
 •A1- 
 
 % 
 
 M 
 
 r\ ']• 
 
 '14^ 
 
^l 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 eyes supplied just the little mystic air that 
 makes a fairy Princess irresistible. 
 
 Hence John's capitulation was complete. 
 He stood transfixed, forgetting the children 
 and what the scarlet bandage really meant. 
 The idea of avoiding the outstretched 
 searching hands of the " Blind Man " did 
 not occur to him. So he was caught, of 
 course, and stood a happy captive, little 
 quivers running up and down his spine and 
 the back of his legs, as soft hands glided 
 over face and head on down to his shoulders, 
 farther, even to his hands, in search of some 
 identifying point. 
 
 Game followed game, and She was the 
 life of them all, only pausing to tie hair 
 ribbons, shoe strings and sashes, some of 
 which he had untied; put safety pins in 
 place of missing buttons, and administer 
 comfort to the bumped and bruised, and 
 loving justice to the quarrelsome; and 
 finally, at table adjusting napkins comforta- 
 bly and filling plates with a fine regard for 
 
 h 
 
 U(£;:\ 
 
 #H 
 
 i^yv\j^ 
 
 
 ^^njm 
 
b l: 
 
 // 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 correct proportions and a glorious disre- 
 gard for consequences. And John, in an 
 exposed position, midway the festive board, 
 with an expanse of temptation on either 
 side, gave Jane one fleeting thought and 
 abandoned himself to the delights of for- 
 bidden things and a chivalrous effort to 
 verify Her generous judgment of his accom- 
 plishments. 
 
 He tried to be near Her in the games, 
 but she was ever flitting from place to place, 
 and there were other admirers, perhaps a 
 trifle less ardent, but often in the way. And 
 so, despite persistent effort and some subter- 
 fuge, John had not been wholly satisfied 
 uith his lot. 
 
 Once, near the close of the afternoon, he 
 spied her sitting alone in a corner and 
 promptly sidled over and took a stand by 
 her chair. She turned and smiled at him, 
 and he smiled back, waiting for further 
 developments. 
 
 She asked his name, and he told her, and 
 
 ■\/f 
 
 ^h 
 
 >«r oV ^ a »]iA 
 
 « o ^ v*-' 
 
'» 
 
 w, 
 
 ■4^^^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 then her hand closed upon one of his rest- 
 ing on the arm of the chair. 
 
 "How old are you, John?" she ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 " Seven. The boys say I am little, but," 
 with rising spirit, " I'll bet I'll grow to be 
 a big man like my father — 'cause he was 
 little, too, until he got on trousers — and 
 then he grew a lot! Aunt Sue says all our 
 * f ambly ' grow a lot when they get on 
 trousers." 
 
 "Oh! I am sure you will, too," giving 
 his hand a squeeze. 
 
 There was a lull — the subject seemed ex- 
 hausted, and she absorbed in other things — 
 John felt the necessity of providing some- 
 thing new for consideration. With sudden 
 impulse, he drew a small memorandum 
 book from his pocket and opened it. 
 
 " This is my age book. I always carry 
 it," he explained. " I'll put you down, if 
 you want me to. See," leaning confidingly 
 against her, and turning the leaves slowly. 
 18 
 
 rl: 
 
 ■\,«' 
 
 \ 
 
 xt^^j^^^^^y-^v^^^^^ 
 
THIS IS MY AGE BOOK. I ALWAYS CARRY IT, HE 
 EXPLAINED " 
 
iil^ 
 
 
 r^v^E:— 
 
 ^^-"^^- 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " There's Jane's — fifty, — fifty-two, that's for 
 Cook; Daddy's — thirty-eight; and seven, 
 that's for me." At the next page he hesi- 
 tated. On it, in irregular but unmistakable 
 figures was one hundred. " Jesus is a hun- 
 dred," he finally announced, " and a thou- 
 sand," turning another leaf, " that's for 
 God. He's the oldest person I know. I 
 haven't got Aunt Sue," he added regret- 
 fully, as he closed the book and stood 
 thoughtfully tracing with his fore-finger the 
 gold lettering of the advertising Insurance 
 Company on the cover. 
 
 A silence John did not understand but 
 which he felt to be most comfortable en- 
 sued, and then "Who is Aunt Sue?" she 
 asked gently. 
 
 He slipped the book into his pocket and 
 faced her, his face glowing with enthusi- 
 asm. 
 
 " Oh, she's my aunt She lives in 
 
 the country in an awful nice place — a big 
 yard — with trees in it 'at you can climb if 
 J9 
 
 / 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 Nurse is busy — and beautifullest roses — 
 and a barn — and a plain hired man. Gee! " 
 with an emphasizing shake of his head, " I 
 like him, — and snakes, just little ones," re- 
 assuringly, seeing that she did not enthuse. 
 " I wouldn't let them bite you — and great 
 big ' high-ball ' bushes. I mean," with 
 an emphasizing nod, " I mean snow-ball 
 bushes. My daddy planted them when he 
 lived there a long time ago." This with 
 much pride. 
 
 She regarded him with suppressed amuse- 
 ment for a moment, then laughed softly 
 to herself and John laughed too, without 
 in the least knowing why. 
 
 " I love the country, too," she told him 
 presently, " the flowers and grass, and I 
 like to climb " — but here an array of hair 
 ribbons were presented for attention, and 
 John was unceremoniously pushed aside. 
 
 He stood apart marvelling. To think of 
 it! She could climb. She wasn't afraid, 
 and liked it, too. That was the finishing 
 
 ,f^\^—^J\/\'<U^^ 
 
 ',WiJ^ 
 
 .m^-Mi 
 
estre 
 
 touch, only, he did wish he knew what it 
 was she liked to climb. He feared it was 
 A (T^ a common cross-barred fence but he hoped. 
 , ff: oh, how he hoped it was a tree! 
 / |;[ ^ Longing for a chance to continue the con- 
 versation, he waited near, but as soon as 
 the ribbons were tied, William Gordon's 
 mother came in, followed very shortly by 
 other mothers, so her attention was quite 
 taken up with grown folks, while the grown 
 folks' respective offspring went up-stairs to 
 don hats and coats. 
 
 John wished there was some one to come 
 and claim him right before them all — of 
 course he knew Jane would be waiting up- 
 stairs — but some one in soft furs and a 
 feathery hat. Jane never wore furs, and 
 her hats were always stiff and depressingly 
 even all round. No one else would come 
 for him, of course, and there was no use 
 waiting about, so he went with his host 
 to make a final raid on the dining table for 
 
 i ^ -U' 
 
/I:i 
 
 H 
 
 U 
 
 \ 
 
 %. 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 On his return he found that almost every- 
 body had gone. He looked around for 
 Mrs. Strong. He had not thought of her 
 before, but now wondered where she had 
 been all afternoon. He wished to bid her 
 good-night, as instructed by Jane; a vague 
 idea of having strayed from the straight and 
 narrow path on divers occasions, firing 
 his passion for implicit obedience as a 
 finish. 
 
 Learning from Jo that his mother was 
 upstairs, he followed the example of the 
 other guests and advanced to pay his re- 
 spects to Her, offering a limp, perfunctory 
 
 1 hand. 
 
 f|^: She took it and smiled down upon him. 
 
 ^ " Good-night," she said. 
 
 -^ John said nothing. It all seemed so 
 
 < meaningless, so inadequate. It was not at 
 
 1^ all the way he wished to say good-night. 
 
 iy He raised hungry expectant eyes to her 
 
 % face. 
 
 i^ "I hope you have had a happy time," she 
 
 
"4i 
 
 :s^' 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire .J' !' \s 
 
 added in response, laying her arm about 
 his shoulders. 
 
 " Oh, a dandy time! " encouraged by her 
 tone, and he would have asked her moic 
 about the climbing, but again some one in- 
 terposed, and he disconsolately withdrew. 
 
 In the hall he met a little girl in white 
 
 ]) i 
 
 with accompaniments of blue, whose sash ^' ij/f/ 
 he had surreptitiously untied during the «^ J^m'/ 
 
 afternoon's frolic, and whose indignant 
 glance had rested upon him more than once, 
 but now, with the delicious inconsistency 
 of her sex, she smiled and slipped her hand 
 in his. 
 
 " I don't want to go home, do you? " she 
 said, as they reached the foot of the stairs 
 
 " No, I don't," said John. 
 
 They went up several steps in silence and 
 mutual discontent. Then she stopped and 
 turned to share with him her crumb of 
 comfort. " Do you want to come to my 
 party?" 
 
 John balanced himself on one foot, and 
 23 
 
 \y. 
 
 ^1 
 
 i 
 
 \^y/ 
 
 / 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^roV-^^y.iiv 
 
vS^. 
 
 .^=^- ^- 
 
 \\ 
 
 w 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 looked at her in pleased surprise. Her 
 name was Emily. Emily — what, he did 
 not know, or where she lived. 
 
 " Yes, I'll come," he answered, advanc- 
 ing to the step above. " When is it going 
 to be? " 
 
 She grasped his hand with both of hers 
 and hopped up beside him. " I'll ask my 
 mother if I can have you," she announced 
 cordially as she landed. 
 
 " Oh! " said John. 
 
 They had reached the first landing. 
 
 " Can't you come a wee bit faster? " un- 
 expectedly a voice urged from above. 
 Looking up, John saw Jane, and the little 
 girl saw her, too, and after an instant's 
 curious regard leaned toward him, covering 
 her mouth with one small hand. " Is that 
 your mother? " she whispered. 
 
 John looked again at the waiting figure 
 above and then at his companion. Instinc- 
 tively he dropped her hand and backed 
 away against the balustrade while he hesi- 
 
 
 \ 
 
'-^%^' 
 
 ^tf^ 
 
 v\ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 tated. Somehow the question disturbed him. 
 He shrank from it and her, for the note 
 of surprise and curiosity in the accented 
 word had not escaped him; he felt it differ- 
 entiated himself as well as Jane in some 
 indefinable way. 
 
 " No, she's just — a good friend of mine," 
 he faltered and hurrying on ahead fol- 
 lowed Jane into the bedroom for his 
 wraps. 
 
 " Why, you're the very last to come up, 
 John," she commented, stooping to adjust 
 his leggings. " Have you had a good 
 time?" 
 
 " Awful good." The answer carried con- 
 viction without enthusiasm. Jane thought 
 it quite too brief to be natural, considering 
 the subject. On the look-out for symptoms, 
 she instantly attributed it to satiety in a 
 malignant form. 
 
 " What did you have for supper? " in a 
 despondent voice. 
 
 John told her in detail, omitting nothing. 
 25 
 
 n'f^1^ 
 
 #-" 
 
 m 
 
 ^A^^tM^^ 
 
//x 
 
 v^ 
 
 \: 
 
 Their Hearts' 
 
 anxiously, 
 
 Desire 
 
 " what did 
 
 " But you, " anxiously, " wnat did you 
 eat, John? " 
 
 " Everything." 
 
 Jane uttered not a syllable, but got her 
 charge into his wraps as quickly as possible, 
 which was not very quick, since he seemed 
 disinclined to help himself. 
 
 But at last, the task accomplished, he 
 followed her through the upper hall and 
 down the stairs. The house appeared quite 
 deserted. They saw no one, and perfect 
 silence reigned, except for the faint sound 
 of retreating voices and low laughter; and 
 then somewhere a door closed — closed 
 softly, gently, but still, it closed, increasing 
 the air of finality that oppressed him. 
 
 At the foot of the stairs, he lingered an 
 instant; his eyes bent dreamily upon the 
 floor strewn with bright bits of paper, holly 
 berries and forgotten or discarded favors. 
 Close to his feet lay a bow of pale blue 
 ribbon. It recalled Emily — and other 
 things. Picking it up, he reached to lay 
 
 // 
 
-^ ft- 
 
 ~4\ 
 
 \\ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 it on the newel-post, shattering, as he did 
 so, a full blown American Beauty rose from 
 the vase above. 
 
 Just then the center lights went out. Im- 
 pulsively he turned and hastened after Jane, 
 but before the library door again he paused, 
 for She sat within, leaning wearily back in 
 a big cushioned chair, one hand falling list- 
 lessly over the arm, while the other, holding 
 a bunch of little purple flowers, lay in her 
 lap. Though she smiled, her eyes were 
 closed — perhaps she was a sleeping Prin- 
 cess, and this a forsaken palace. 
 
 Away ofif, as far as he could think, John 
 heard the closing of another door. He held 
 his breath. Now she was quite alone. If 
 only he might stay! 
 
 His pulses quickened, he drew a step 
 nearer, and then — Jane took him gently but 
 firmly by the hand and led him out into the 
 night. 
 
 For months John Belden had been 
 haunted by a vague longing which had 
 
 >k^( 
 
 h 
 
 // 
 
 / 
 
™ /•/ \ 
 
 ^ 
 
 • I 
 
 //' 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 never taken more distinct form than a re- 
 current wish that Jane was different. He 
 did not know why, for Jane he knew was 
 good. He felt almost sure she had never 
 done anything wrong in her life. He al- 
 most wished she had. But this longing, the 
 companionship and experience of the after- 
 noon had developed, and the satisfying per- 
 sonality of his new friend, the presence 
 of so many beautiful mothers, and the little 
 girl's questions on the stairs, had all tended 
 to clear his mental atmosphere of doubts 
 and perplexity, so that by the time he 
 reached the street, a perfect realization of 
 what he most wanted in the whole world 
 absorbed him, and he felt dreadfully alone. 
 He could not think of another boy or 
 girl, not one, who did not have a real live 
 mother. 
 
 There was a beautiful picture of some one 
 ^4 on the library wall at home — a mother that 
 % they said was his, only — well, once or twice 
 1 alone with Adam, he had called 
 
 /■ 
 
 
 ■m^vmj^^L^^'^^. 
 
/•/ \s 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 softly to see if anything would happen, and 
 she had not even answered. Perhaps she 
 did not know him, she went away so long 
 ago, and was never coming back, why, no 
 one seemed to know, not even Daddy, and 
 Daddy had told him a lot about her too, how 
 sweet and good she was, about her eyes and 
 mouth and hair, even about her hands " so 
 beautiful and tender." John always re- 
 membered those words, " beautiful and 
 tender " — her hands, and he wished that he 
 could see them in the picture. 
 
 But to-night a wild desire consumed all 
 other thought, leaving a single avenue his 
 mind could take, and his whole body ached 
 in contemplation, for it seemed to reach so 
 many, many miles ahead and had no turning 
 point or end. 
 
 Suddenly the chimes of a neighboring 
 church burst forth clear and vibrating on 
 the winter air — "Joy to the World" they 
 
 \V/' W \£ \^ 
 
,^^ .^vm-- 
 
 \\ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 John took a long, deep breath. Some- 
 thing gave way and made it possible. He 
 looked up, his heart responding instantly to 
 the song of cheer. To the belfry from 
 which the song of glory came, on up to 
 the stars above, he raised his eyes, and he 
 saw things that grown folks do not see, and 
 heard melodies too remote for them to hear, 
 because of the manifold things of earth that 
 lie between. 
 
 An interval of silence while a closing note 
 diffused itself. 
 
 Again " Joy to the World " the chimes 
 began, and then, across the soft white still- 
 ness of the night, nearer and nearer, came 
 the sound of other bells. They, too, sang of 
 joy, but in gayer, faster measure, a riotous 
 song, that finding echo in his childish heart, 
 warmed and thrilled him. 
 
 He had forgotten, but now — through the 
 darkness of night and the gloom of his own 
 forebodings he looked straight into the 
 merry, reassuring face of Santa Claus. 
 30 
 
 i">vA„(Cv"\-^^r_V-,1. 
 
 
 \ 
 
U'^m 
 
 w 
 
 \. 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 A little excited laugh escaped his parted 
 lips. His mind fairly galloped to happy 
 conclusions without reason or guidance, 
 only — since he could remember, Santa Claus 
 had never failed him or any other boy he 
 knew. 
 
 He broke from Jane's restraining hand. 
 Hopping, skipping, jumping, he circled 
 around her; till finally, running on ahead, 
 he waited under the flickering light of a 
 street lamp, exclaiming with enthusiasm as 
 she joined him: " Jane, tell me, does Santa 
 Claus make live things? I mean ponies, 
 and dogs and — things that walk and talk, 
 like he brings boys sometimes?" 
 
 " No, John, only God can do that," Jane 
 answered in a mildly reproachful tone, 
 (She must review his catechism on Sun- 
 day!) 
 
 " Well, where does he get them, then? " 
 John urged, unconscious of his fall from 
 grace. " He brought Cousin Dick a dandy 
 goat last year, and Aunt Sue a baby! " 
 
 :f 
 
 i?-- 
 
 / 
 
 pi 
 
 V 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " Perhaps he bought the goat." 
 
 " Perhaps," dubiously, " but the baby — 
 where did he get the baby? " 
 
 " I can't say — exactly. I don't know 
 much about Santa Claus, John." Truthful 
 Jane! She never cultivated, never ap- 
 proved of fictitious characters. 
 
 They walked in silence a little way, and 
 then John announced with conviction, " I 
 bet God helps him. He's a regular ' corker,' 
 God is." 
 
 "John Belden!" Jane gasped in horror, 
 for she did not catch the note of praise in 
 the boyish vernacular. 
 
 " Well, He t5, Jane. He can just do any- 
 thing He wants. S'pose you think babies 
 is all He can make. Humph! " in a scorn- 
 ful voice. " He makes men and — ladies 
 and — and giants, too, sometimes." The last 
 triumphantly. 
 
 Jane said nothing. She was occupied 
 trying to account for the remarkable change 
 in the deportment of her small charge 
 32 
 •^ v -v A^ -v -^^ a;- .iV <^ 
 
 kn/^Ar^r^'" 
 
JANE, TELL ME, DOES SANTA CLAUS MAKE LIVE 
 THINGS? ' " 
 
y 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 Could this sudden animation betoicen deli- ^ t-i 
 rium? M, .. 
 
 She looked at him solicitously. He was W ^p 
 gazing meditatively up at the sky. 
 
 " I know now, Jane. Santa Claus gets 
 them in another world," he said at length, 
 with a shade of awe and wonder in his voice. 
 
 " Where did you learn that nonsense? " 
 
 " Daddy said so, he told me. It's Mars — 
 one star. It's a world — away off, a hundred 
 and a thousand miles — farther than from ^ 
 here to Aunt Sue's. Anyway, they think 
 it's a world, Jane," reluctantly admitting 
 the possibility of a doubt, " and I just know 
 that's where he gets things. I'll bet you 
 anything," kicking viciously at a pile of 
 snow. "Gee! I wonder how he gets 
 there! " he added, again thoughtful. 
 
 " I'm sure I don't know," she answered 
 abstractedly, while she studied him. 
 
 Jane did not easily give up her opinions, ^; 
 but John's step once more buoyant, his voice % 
 animated, normal conditions existing, it cer- 
 _ 33 , 
 
 ¥ 
 
 if 
 
9 o o 
 
^■"?f 
 
 :mi^.-. 
 
 C(^apter 
 Two 
 
 M 
 
 Entering the house, they had hardly 
 closed the door till Adam was in the hall, 
 careering around with the grace of a small 
 elephant, his antics seriously interfering 
 with John's efforts to remove his wraps. 
 But this accomplished, the boy ran down 
 the hall, closely pursued by the Great Dane 
 into the library, where they settled them- 
 selves on the rug in front of the fire, and 
 Adam ate the chocolates concealed for him 
 in the fullness of his young master's blouse. 
 The fact that candy was not considered good 
 for Adam either, had always been a close 
 tie between them! 
 
 The chocolates disposed of, Adam opened 
 the conversation, pounding his tail vigor- 
 ously upon the floor, but John did not re- 
 spond. He lay with his head propped on 
 his hands, looking dreamily at the blazing 
 
 % 
 
 W\ 
 
 / 
 
 ^^^^^iU^^4llA^^^ 
 
 \. 
 
 \ 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 X logs. Once more Adam expressed himself 
 " with added vehemence, but still his presence 
 was ignored. 
 
 This was too much — something must be 
 wrong. 
 
 Adam blinked thoughtfully, then slowly 
 rising to his feet, walked around between 
 John and the fire, and poked his cold, wet 
 nose into John's warm neck. That was 
 Adam's favorite spot! 
 
 John squirmed and giggled as he pulled 
 the big dog down close beside him, and 
 whispering, told him all about it. And 
 that was what Adam wanted. He was a 
 fine listener, offering not a single suggestion, 
 only expressing his interest and appreciation 
 by a hearty dab of his large red tongue on 
 John's small nose. 
 
 Then they both lay in silence gazing at 
 the fire. The boy, with wide-open, soulful 
 eyes, transported by his fancies to a state of 
 perfect bliss, while the dog, soon dozing 
 ofif, found himself confronted by a host of 
 38 
 
 ,:j o 
 
 %f 
 
 / 
 
 CO 00 
 
'~^:- 
 
 -^•-'#--f^ f -% 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 cats — awful, diabolical looking cats, with 
 shiny, smooth chocolate bodies and extrava- 
 gantly large and bristling white tails held 
 uniformly aloft, each separate hair mani- 
 •/ 111 ((■ festing individual hostility. The hair on 
 the scruff of Adam's neck rose bravely. He 
 uttered a sharp bark of warning, but it 
 ended in a tremulous whine of despair, as 
 he observed the rapid advance of the un- 
 daunted foe. On the eve of ignominious 
 flight, he heaved a prodigious sigh of relief 
 and satisfaction when suddenly aroused to 
 a consciousness of peace and safety. To 
 think he had escaped, and with his honor 
 unimpaired! 
 
 He raised himself to his haunches, med- 
 itating. He wondered where that particu- 
 lar breed of felines came from and what his 
 chances were for meeting them again, when 
 in the midst of his speculations, some one 
 suddenly grabbed John by the feet, exclaim- 
 ing in a big voice: " Well, Buster, what are 
 you doing here at this hour? Is Nurse sick 
 39 
 
 t^\ 
 
 i i|'. 
 
 # 
 
 ■^ 
 
3^ 
 
 '^1 # 
 
 f* 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 that you are allowed to sit up? " And then 
 began the romp that usually followed a 
 meeting of father and son. 
 
 But to-night, no romping for John. He 
 wriggled and writhed, calling out, " Wait, 
 Daddy — don't. I want to tell you — please," 
 as he made repeated efforts to get upon his 
 feet. 
 
 At last the timely entrance of Adam into 
 the fray diverted his tormentor's attention 
 long enough for John to announce with en- 
 thusiasm, " Daddy, — please, I want to write 
 a letter now, so it will be in time — to Santa 
 Claus — that's why I stayed up — and I want 
 you to help me to spell it quick — for I'll 
 have to go to bed in just a minute." 
 
 The tone of anxiety and excitement 
 plainly showed that the business was im- 
 portant, so pencil and paper were promptly 
 supplied, and John went to work. 
 
 His father stood by, watching with in- 
 terest the flushed face and rigid little fist 
 wielding the pencil. He was curious, too, 
 40 
 
 ff^ 
 
 ^1 
 
 / 
 
 Ft^^V' 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 but he did not question — did not even speak, 
 except in response to a plea for help, though 
 the words he was asked to spell were of so 
 varied a nature as to give no clue to the 
 particular contents of the letter. 
 
 Not until it was sealed, addressed, and 
 stamped did John relax his efforts, for he 
 '': was momentarily expecting Jane's call to 
 ^ bed, and had only just put the letter in his 
 ^. father's hand, when she summoned him. 
 " Don't forget to send it to-night, will 
 you, Daddy? " he cautioned brightly, rais- 
 ing his face to be kissed, and then he scamp- 
 ered off, Adam following him to the door. 
 Robert Belden sat down and stretched 
 his limbs to the warmth of the crackling fire. 
 It felt good. The night was cold and he 
 had had a long drive. The fire was a real 
 comfort. He leaned his head against the 
 back of his easy chair, and smilingly con- 
 templated the envelope in his hand. Adam 
 • came and stood sedately beside him. 
 
 " Adam," in a puzzled tone, " what do 
 
 
V^Uli/ 
 
 // 
 
 ^/^ 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 you suppose is in this epistle, anyway? " 
 Adam did not commit himself, but to show 
 his interest laid one paw upon his master'; 
 knee. " Let me see," Dr. Belden continued, 
 " I spelled things — live — lady — climb — 
 chin and Mars. Well, if that isn't a mix- 
 up," with an amused chuckle. " Sort of 
 a Chinese puzzle, and I hate to give up 
 and look at the answer." 
 
 He delayed a moment longer, and then 
 raising himself to a more erect position, 
 took a paper knife from the table close at 
 hand and cut the envelope open. " It is 
 very mysterious, and very important," he 
 said, with playful solemnity, opening out 
 the sheet. 
 
 " Dear Santa," it began— 
 
 " I do not want the things I said. I only 
 want a mother — a live one that can do 
 thmgs, like the lady at Jo's that can climb 
 with a hole in her chin. Maybe you can 
 get one in Mars. 
 
 " John Belden." 
 

 ■^6^ 
 
 '"i^'^S^' 
 
 ^ 
 
 T'Ae/r Hearts' Desire 
 
 The father sank slowly back in his chair. 
 The hand holding the letter dropped to his 
 knee. He was dazed, stupefied by this un- 
 heard of request; what he felt to be a crying 
 need in the life of his boy. 
 
 He had expected the natural demands of 
 childhood; extravagant, perhaps, but de- 
 mands that with money he could meet, or 
 with tact modify, but what in all the world 
 could satisfy this heart hunger— the God- 
 given instinct of a child for mother-love I 
 
 An awful sense of futility and incompe- 
 tency to comprehend the situation oppressed 
 him, since he had failed all these years in 
 the very thing he cared most about— John's 
 happiness and welfare. And Jane Austin, 
 the Infallible, with all her years of experi- 
 ence and singleness of purpose and love for 
 John, she must have failed too. 
 
 This added to his distress, for from the 
 first, recognizing a man's limitations, he had 
 relied on her care and companionship to 
 supplement his own. 
 
 /f'<:. 
 
 / 
 
 \\ 
 
 /f 
 
Si=^ 
 
 \ 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 And now the letter was all he had to 
 enlighten him. Recalling but vaguely its 
 contents, except the one paramount fact, he 
 turned to it again. 
 
 " I do not want the things I said,'' he read, 
 and stopped. This complete giving up of 
 all coveted treasures showed how much in 
 earnest the boy was. " I only want a 
 mother," he continued, " a live one — like 
 the lady at Jo's — that can climb — with a 
 hole in her chin." He paused, smiling ten- 
 derly at the ambiguity. And then Robert 
 Belden caught his breath. Suddenly some- 
 thing dawned upon him that almost stopped 
 the beating of his heart, and enveloped his 
 mental faculties in a sort of haze. 
 
 " The lady at Jo's," he remarked slowlj^ 
 shifting his position. Was he dreaming, or 
 deluded? He must think — but his whole 
 consciousness became suddenly dominated 
 by an inspired conviction not to be reasoned 
 with or questioned. It seemed the very im- 
 pulse of his being. 
 
 iv 
 
 ./> 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
it 
 
 v\ 
 
 %l 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 He sprang from his chair, and began pac- 
 ing the floor, head up, eyes glowing with 
 exaltation. Dreaming, or deluded? No — 
 no — it was Fate and Barbara. A half hys- 
 terical laugh escaped him. It was meant to 
 be, he knew it! John wanted her, or one 
 like her, and there was only one Barbara 
 McClellan in all the world. And he? O 
 God! how he wanted her! A thousand 
 times more beautiful she seemed, and holy, 
 a blessing set apart for him and John. 
 
 He had thought to make her love him, 
 but somehow now he knew the miracle was 
 wrought, for his spirit drew hers gently to 
 him, not a shadow intervened, and he softly 
 folded his love about her, while she smiled 
 a beautiful radiance into the room. He 
 heard the echo of his love within her heart, 
 and felt the beauty of her soul within his 
 own. 
 
 Softly the voice of his dear old mother 
 came to him, singing in quavering tones as 
 she used to sing so long ago, " God moves 
 J.5.. 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
-# 
 
 H 
 
 V\ 
 
 // 
 
 \ Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 i in a mysterious way, His wonders to per- 
 form." She had believed it — bless her, 
 through joy and pain — to the very end. 
 And he believed it now — and Barbara? 
 Yes, Barbara, too. He smiled in happy 
 confidence. He did not really need to ask 
 her, for he knew. 
 
 Resuming his chair before the fire, he 
 gave himself up to the joys of retrospection. 
 
 The revelation seemed complete, and in 
 its light all his relations with her assumed 
 a new significance, beginning with the day 
 six months before when she came to the 
 home of his friend, Henry Strong. 
 
 Calling professionally a few hours after 
 her arrival, he had surprised her sitting on 
 the nursery floor, absorbed in the building 
 of a stately castle for his convalescing pa- 
 tient. 
 
 There had been no one to introduce them, 
 but he quickly identified her in his mind 
 with the expected guest, and young Eliza- 
 beth Strong, radiant with the after-glow of 
 46 
 
 ^. 
 
^Ac^ 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 chicken pox and the assurance of a four 
 year old, recommended them to each other 
 without reserve. And the acquaintance, so 
 ((] auspiciously begun, flourished like a green 
 •/ 1:1 (T bay tree, its spicy fruit a source of joy to 
 him at least, while subtly nourishing a senti- 
 ment of which he did not know himself 
 possessed. 
 
 Barbara McClellan had come to his 
 friend's immediately after the death of her 
 father, sad and desperately lonely, for she 
 was an only child and had lost her mother 
 years before. 
 
 Naturally, in the newness of her grief, 
 she shrank from contact with the world in 
 general, going out little, except for walks 
 and drives, and meeting few people, find- 
 ing comfort and happiness in the immediate 
 interests of her friends and their children, 
 in whose life she unreservedly merged her 
 own. 
 
 And he, exceptionally privileged, as an 
 old friend and family physician, to come 
 
 
 S^^^^lv 
 
 ■'> m/^'^^^z^^^m^ 
 
% 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 and go at will, morning, noon or night, had 
 participated, long before she came, in the 
 intimate life of the household; a circum- 
 stance affording him from the first her 
 almost daily consideration, and occasioning 
 attentions on his part sincere but not in the 
 least considered. Even the habit of sending 
 her violets, inaugurated by the observance 
 of her birthday in the early fall, had seemed 
 only a concurrence in the increased require- 
 ments of an enlarged family. 
 
 He smiled blandly at the thought, but 
 he knew that had he been questioned, even 
 a month ago, as to the frequency of his visits 
 he would have answered in all honesty that 
 the Strongs were his dearest friends, that 
 he had always gone there informally and 
 often, and that there was nothing he enjoyed 
 more than an evening in the rectory. She 
 would have been included in the evening, 
 of course, but not as a distinct factor. And 
 how confounded he had been to discover 
 the real state of affairs! 
 
,^-^ 
 
 w 
 
 a 
 
 I., i 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 Then he recalled the evening of his first 
 enlightenment. 
 
 He had dropped in on his way home from 
 the hospital and found her alone, engaged 
 in the dressing of a large, blond doll. Un- 
 announced, as usual, he enjoyed a moment's 
 contemplation of her from the sitting-room 
 door before she knew that he was there. 
 
 He could close his eyes and see her now 
 as she sat in the warm glow of the lamp, her 
 black gown relieved by a tiny line of white 
 about the throat and wrists, her lap strewn 
 with bright-colored pieces; a sewing-basket 
 was on the table close at hand, but closer 
 still, he remembered with a thrill of satis- 
 faction, the violets he had sent that day. 
 The doll she held aloft before her, bending 
 its extremities into conventional lines of ease 
 and grace, while she viewed its embryo mag- 
 nificence with a satisfied smile. 
 
 The sound of his voice had startled her. 
 He recalled with some contrition the little 
 gasping cry she gave, and the look of alarm 
 49 
 
 h 
 
 \ 
 
7iX \ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 in the eyes that questioningly sought the 
 door — a look which speedily gave place to 
 one of relief and evident pleasure. 
 
 But she was very sorry to tell him — which 
 she did immediately — that both Mr. and 
 Mrs. Strong were out, seeming to feel he 
 might not care to stay. 
 
 He had been quick to reassure her; he 
 remembered exactly the very words he used : 
 " I am glad. I would rather have you all 
 to myself for a whole evening than anything 
 I know." 
 
 He laughed now at the frank committal. 
 It was true! He made the statement nat- 
 urally, without a thought beyond, and 
 but for her momentary self-consciousness, 
 evinced by the delicate pink that stole into 
 her cheeks and the sudden half veiling of 
 her eyes, he might not have realized the 
 significance of his own words. 
 
 As it was, the knowledge surprised and 
 disconcerted him, a circumstance that now 
 aflforded him intense amusement. He felt 
 so 
 
■^ i'=^ 
 
 'ft 
 
 f. ^ 
 
 '■ J^^ 
 
 ^: AK 1' ^ 
 
 
 y ',"*'■# 
 
 V^'? 
 
 
 A^ '• 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 ^ "I 
 
 .iff- --^"^-^■■= 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 as though he had played a joke upon another 
 man, a poor, unsophisticated country bump- 
 kin I 
 
 How admirably she had regained her 
 self-possession, he reflected, and assisted him 
 to his, and her blush — he recalled it now 
 with a delicious sense of possible power, 
 while he wondered just how much it meant 
 and what the drooping eyelids hid. 
 
 Most of the evening she sewed diligently, 
 while they talked and he smoked, with her 
 kind permission, and played his very lim- 
 ited repertoire on the piano. Then she 
 suggested a short story in a magazine, which 
 he read aloud. Afterwards, while he en- 
 joyed his pipe once more, they talked of 
 many things, frequently lapsing, however, 
 into long silences, during which he envel- 
 oped himself in a cloud of smoke and an 
 air of preoccupation, while covertly watch- 
 ing her from the corner of his eye and 
 striving to diagnose his case. 
 
 She had seemed doubly industrious 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 these times, he remembered. He also re- 
 membered, with an indulgent smile, that he 
 was invariably requested to find her mis- 
 laid scissors, or to pursue an errant spool 
 which persisted in dropping from her lap 
 and rolling away to some remote corner of 
 the room. 
 
 This had finally ended in his offering 
 to hold in his own hand both scissors and 
 spool when not in use. She demurred a 
 little, it was " such a foolish occupation for 
 a man," but his argument that it was an 
 improvement on scrambling around on all 
 fours over-ruled. 
 
 Once, near the close of the evening, she 
 had come to momentary grief, and he val- 
 iantly to the rescue. Her needle slipped 
 down deep beneath the nail of one deft 
 finger. She exclaimed a little, and so, with- 
 out being formally called, he took the case, 
 and the injured hand, in his. 
 
 The needle intact had been readily re- 
 moved, but to thoroughly satisfy himself — 
 52 
 
 \' 
 
 / 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 he failed to state in what way — it had been 
 necessary to make a prolonged and exhaus- 
 tive search for the point. 
 
 During the examination of the finger, 
 and — himself, she had watched him with a 
 serious, trustful look that aggravated to an 
 alarming degree all his symptoms and con- 
 vinced him that his case was hopeless. 
 
 During the fortnight since that memor- 
 able evening they had been often together, 
 each time serving to strengthen his resolve 
 to win her, and his uncertainty as to whether 
 it were possible, and if so, how and when. 
 
 There being no question as to his own 
 state of mind and heart, he spent his time 
 speculating as to hers and debating the wis- 
 dom of a final move. 
 
 But he did not find it easy to get his bear- 
 ings with Barbara McClellan. Her nature 
 was a rare combination of reserve and amaz- 
 ing simplicity. And while oftentimes in- 
 genuousness opened up entrancing vistas 
 that transported him to the very seventh 
 53 
 
 \ 
 
 Kv::-{. 
 

 
 r% 
 
 ^j] 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 heaven of bliss, they were quickly and quite 
 breathlessly obscured by an instant reserve, 
 much as a mother hastens to cover the rev- 
 elations of a too precocious child. So these 
 charming glimpses only served to keep him 
 ever traversing the hillsides of doubt. 
 
 Now from his newly established emi- 
 nence, he viewed as of another being the 
 footsteps of his vacillating feet; steps that 
 crossed and re-crossed, discerning where he 
 might have advanced with safety many 
 times. But, strange to say, the path by 
 which he attained his present dizzy height 
 he could not see. 
 
 He was there, that was enough, and be- 
 fore him lay the country of his heart's de- 
 sire, waiting, ready for immediate posses- 
 sion, if only Barbara were ready too. 
 
 He must know. He would go to her at 
 once — and he started toward the door, paus- 
 ing midway to consult his watch when Jane 
 entered ^^^th a cup of tea. 
 
 " I thought perhaps you would like some- 
 
 M' V MH 
 

 ^ 'f. 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 thing hot before you go out again, sir," she 
 said. " It will be so late before you have 
 dinner, and it's cold." 
 
 " Thank you, Jane, you are ver^' thought- 
 ful," he said perfunctorily. 
 
 She put the tray on the table and left the 
 room; whereupon Dr. Belden eyed it with 
 antagonism, while his spirits sank. For 
 Jane's words brought to mind an engage- 
 ment to dine at the Club with sundry others 
 of the local profession, entertaining an emi- 
 nent surgeon from abroad, and he had been 
 delegated to make the address of welcome. 
 
 " Heavens! A fine one it would be," he 
 reflected sardonically. He hadn't an idea 
 in his head, but Barbara, and " God moves 
 in a mysterious way." 
 
 He leaned against the edge of the table, 
 his hands thrust deep in his pockets, and 
 scowled as he faced the situation. One 
 thing was sure, he was not to be depended 
 upon. What man would be! And looking 
 down at the hundred and eighty pounds of 
 
 .;fe ^- - 
 
 h 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 deferred hope in English tweeds, of which 
 he was miserably conscious, he indulged in 
 one large, audible " Damn! " and inaudibly 
 consigned the eminent surgeon to the bottom 
 of the sea, with all the isolated corporeal 
 members which had engaged his attention, 
 and of which, incidentally, this dinner was 
 a consequence. 
 
 Then once more Robert Belden looked at 
 his watch and debated. He must do some- 
 thing. The pressure was too great. It 
 could not all be put ofif. He closed his 
 watch with a decisive snap and went to the 
 'phone. 
 
 " Seven hundred, please," he requested, 
 followed by the customary wait. " Hello, 
 that you, Henry? This is Belden talking 
 . . . Yes . . . No, not to-night, thanks. 
 Am due at the Club at eight, and I haven't 
 any time to waste on you, old man. I want 
 to talk to Miss McClellan, if I may. . . . 
 All right, I'll wait." Silence for a time, 
 and then, " Good-evening," and a beaming 
 
^ 
 
 -'-V-- 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 smile. " How are you all after the party? 
 . . . Oh, is she? I'm sorry to hear 
 that. . . . Yes, I want to know if I 
 may see you for a few minutes to-morrow 
 morning, as early as nine-thirty. . . . 
 Not early? " laughing. " Well, I can make 
 it six-thirty, or seven, only I don't want to 
 get mixed up with Louise's butcher and 
 baker. .. . Beg pardon? . . . Thanks, 
 you flatter me. Well, we'll make it nine- 
 thirty, then. . . . Very well. Good- 
 night." 
 
 The 'phone was abandoned with the air 
 of having accomplished all manner of 
 things. At least, she knew that he was com- 
 ing. 
 
 Stopping to take John's letter from the 
 table, his glance fell again upon the offend- 
 ing cup of tea, Jane's contribution to his 
 comfort. Good, pious, temperate Jane! 
 Somehow he 
 
 ^' 
 
 sorry 
 
 J^ 
 
 ight, 
 
 and it was a very little thing to drink a cup 
 
 of tea! 
 
 W 
 
 .57 
 
 / 
 
i 
 
 -^ .-^ ".^-^ -=* -> ••» ~ ^' '^^t<?'>ioi»' 
 
 He 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 raised it to his lips. It was cold 
 
 He made a \vr\' face and shrugged his shoul- 
 ders, then looked benignly, in glad relief, 
 upon the palm in the bay window, and 
 crossing over, poured the liquid Oolong and 
 Gunpowder about its roots. It was a sturdy 
 plant and likely to survive the dissipation, 
 he decided. Besides, according to Jane, tea 
 was good for anything. 
 
 " You make excellent tea, Jane," he com- 
 mented, replacing the cup upon the table 
 as she re-entered the room. " And it ij a 
 cold night. Be careful about the ventila- 
 tion in John's room, won't you? " he added. 
 
 " I always am. You know he hasn't had 
 a cold this year," she answered \nth pride. 
 
 " I know," nodding approval. Then, 
 " How are you t\vo getting on these days? " 
 
 " Very well, sir, but of course John 
 doesn't think of anything but Christmas 
 now, and what he wants, and to-night he has 
 some queer notion about Mars — says you 
 told him. When he was getting ready for 
 
 I- 
 
# -^- 
 
 as3*> 
 
 c^ T'/je/r Hearts' Desire 
 
 A bed he talked of nothing else. Have you 
 (( gotten his Christmas things yet, sir? " 
 '' " No, not yet, — not — all of them. But — 
 
 '('. well, I've picked them out," he added 
 (f brightly. " By the way, Jane," in a dififer- ^ 
 ^ ent tone, " What is the condition of the guest <" 
 ^ room next to John's? You needn't speak ^" 
 of it at present," he went on, not waiting for '^' 
 her to answer, " but we may have a guest for *' 
 Christmas, and I would like to have the ^ 
 room cleaned and made as attractive as pos- A 
 sible, fresh curtains and so on. Perhaps, on jI 
 second thought, I had better look it over J 
 
 J 
 
 with you in the morning." 
 
 " Very well, sir. Will the gentleman be 
 here long? " she asked, taking the tray from 
 the table. 
 
 "The gentleman?" in a puzzled voice. 
 And then recovering himself, " Ah — yes — 
 yes. I — didn't understand. Yes, indefi- 
 nitely, if he comes." 
 
 Jane wondered as she left the room why 
 he flushed and smiled so entirely. She 
 59 
 
, f\ '^^ 
 
 \ T' : 
 
 i^% 
 
 Their Hearts Desire 
 
 couldn't see the slightest cause for either. 
 Then she wondered what the gentleman was 
 like. 
 
 As for Robert Belden, he stood spell- 
 \ ^ \\ C t)0""^ ^y ^i^ o^'^ audacity. "Curtains — 
 not only curtains, but /r^j^ curtains!" And 
 X '4 ^ he had not even told her that he loved her. 
 
 A tender humorousness crept into his face, 
 as he ran the fingers of one hand through 
 his hair. Was he more thirty-eight or 
 eighteen, he wondered. Truly, the latter, 
 since his maturer senses, treed for the time 
 by the reckless maneuvers of his boy soul, 
 sat complacently idle, smiling down into 
 the recognized face of Destiny standing 
 guard beneath, 
 
 Adam came up and licked his master's 
 hand. Fortunately he did not know how 
 much of him was up a tree, or he would 
 more than likely have barked, for Adam 
 almost always barked at things in trees. 
 
 Dr. Belden rested his hand on the dog's 
 head, "Adam, it's too bad you're just a 
 60 
 
 ■ s A ^-f , .--I 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
 \/ 
 
 \ 
 

 I understand, you needn't wag your tail so. 
 There, old dog," leaning over to pat him 
 affectionately, "you go lie down in front of 
 the fire and make up your mind what you 
 want for Christmas dinner, and by Jove, I'll 
 get it, Adam, even if it's squabs at a dollar 
 per." 
 
 And then Adam's master went upstairs, 
 took a cold tub, something besides cold tea, 
 and dressed, all to the tune of "God moves 
 in a mysterious way," in measures ranging 
 from soulful long meter to the most frenzied 
 rag-time, after which he went to the Club 
 and tried to behave like other men. 
 
 ■^ 
 
 ^i 
 
^ 
 
 Chapter 
 
 %re£ 
 
^ ___^^^, r'<5hr-r:* , -^ ._• -^-^ 
 
 Chapter 
 %ree 
 
 Ix his perusal of the Journal at ±e break- 
 fast table the next morning. Robert Belden 
 was relieved to find there had been no lapse 
 on his part the evening before sufficiently 
 
 f'^rt ^ marked as to supply material for the re- 
 i % porter. In fact, his brief address received 
 ^ flattering comment. 
 
 " It's wonderful what a nmn can do, when 
 
 he's pushed to it" he remarked, dropping 
 
 two lumps instead of one into his coffee. 
 
 And John said, " Pushed to what, Daddy? '' 
 
 I ' His father said, " Have another egg. son. 
 
 u.' And, by the way, I got your letter off last 
 
 night, and it ought to reach headquarters 
 
 . about half-past nine this moming." 
 
 ^ '• Headquarters? " said John. '" Is that 
 
 \.^ where Santa Claus lives?" 
 
 '■ Not exactly, but — it's where — the late, 
 special orders like yours are filled." 
 
 ^■ 
 
 f 
 
 ir. 
 
'4i 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " Oh ! " John exclaimed, his mouth full of 
 toast and his eyes big with interest. 
 
 He ate his second egg in silence. Then 
 resting his elbow on the table and his 
 chin in his hand, " Daddy," he began, 
 *' do you know anybody that came from 
 Mars?" 
 
 " From Mars? H'm'm. No, I don't be- 
 lieve I do, John." 
 
 " Well, do you know any one who ever 
 went to Mars, Daddy? " with a suggestion 
 of anxiety. 
 
 " No. You see, the trains don't run, and 
 air-ships aren't much good yet. Guess we'll 
 have to wait awhile for a trip of that kind, 
 son. Why, do you want to go? " 
 
 The man smiled, but the boy didn't. The 
 corners of his mouth drooped a little. 
 
 " No," he said in a wistful tone. " But 
 Jane said that it wasn't true, that it was all a 
 joke about Mars being a world, that it is 
 just a star and that you were fooling me. 
 And I said I believed you. You weren' 
 66 
 
 h- 
 
:>.^ 
 
 
 /\. ^ 
 
 ?^. 
 
 \\ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 i-' ^ 
 
 fooling me, were you, Daddy? " he went on 
 breathlessly, as though fearing the answer. 
 " You know lots more than Jane, of course, 
 'bout such things, and I told her I bet Santa 
 Claus and God can go there, anyway, if 
 other folks can't." 
 
 " Of course. There's not a doubt of it," 
 his father agreed. 
 
 " That's what I say," resumed John, his 
 voice ascending a scale of cheerfulness. " If 
 Santa Claus can drive right through the air, 
 and if God can jump around the way He 
 does, hearing kids say their prayers, I'll bet 
 they can go to Mars just as easy — as 
 easy," — casting his eyes about for an object 
 for comparison — " as I can shake a salt cel- 
 lar," he finished convincingly. 
 
 By this time John's countenance was ra- 
 diant. He leaned over and whispered, 
 though they were quite alone, " Daddy, will 
 you do something for me? " 
 
 " I most certainly will. What is it, 
 Buster? " 
 
 ^; 
 
 i :k 
 
B-~0^^f^*&^^sm 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 John slid from his chair, napkin in hand, 
 and came near to explain. 
 
 " Well, I don't know, of course. Daddy 
 — nobody ever really knows about Santa 
 Claus — but I think maybe — maybe — he'll 
 bring me something — oh, — something he 
 can't bring down a chimney." 
 
 "What!" with astonishment. "Can't 
 bring down a chimney? " 
 
 John nodded, his eyes full of mystery. 
 
 " What on earth do you think it's going 
 to be? " 
 
 " I don't know ' ezactly.' Something aw- 
 ful big, or something alive, and I want to 
 leave a door or window open so he can get 
 in. Please, Daddy." 
 
 His father pretended to consider seri- 
 ously. 
 
 " I'm afraid Jane will never allow any 
 more animals in the house," he said at length 
 in a dubious tone. " But " — with sudden 
 courage — " we'll just not tell her, and I'll 
 promise to fix it so Santa Claus can come 
 
 ^/■i'Vf ^ 
 
I"# 
 
 \N 
 
 Their Hearts Desire 
 
 right in the front door. There, does that 
 satisfy you, young man?" giving him a 
 squeeze. 
 
 "Oh, yes," came from John, in a smoth- 
 ered but dehghted voice. 
 
 "Well, run off, then, to Jane. Keep 
 mum, and let her wipe the egg off your 
 right cheek. I must be off." 
 
 Two minutes ahead of scheduled time, 
 John's letter reached "headquarters." The 
 maid admitted the bearer, and he met Mrs. 
 Strong in the hall as she came from the 
 rear of the house, enveloped in a shining 
 white apron, carpet sweeper and dust cloth 
 in hand. 
 
 "What do you mean by invading a house 
 at this hour of the day ?" she demanded, be- 
 stowing a beaming smile and a hand in 
 welcome. "We don't any of us need pills 
 or poultices." 
 
 "You must know about the ounce of pre- 
 vention and the pound of cure, don't you ?'* 
 reminded Dr. Belden. "Well, I thought 
 69 
 
i-M 
 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 I'd drop in as the ounce, and save you a big 
 doctor's bill. You have a terribly busy 
 air," he remarked, taking off his coat. 
 " Thought you were a sick lady yesterday." 
 •/ M (I- " No, that's a mistake. I wasn't. Come '^ 
 into the library," she commanded, leading 
 the way, " and I'll tell you all about it." 
 
 A big log burned briskly in the fireplace. 
 He took a stand before it, his hands behind 
 him. 
 
 " I was not sick," Mrs. Strong began, 
 " just one of my old headaches, and Henry 
 and Barbara got their heads together and 
 decided to put me to bed. You know Jo 
 had a party? Well, Barbara, with my hus- 
 band's consent, ran it all. At noon I not 
 only had a headache all by myself upstairs, 
 but was threatened with convulsions, think- 
 ing of the things to be done by three o'clock, 
 when lo! the usurper appears with a cup of 
 tea, a serene smile, and the information that 
 everything is in readiness, that the children 
 
 have been scoured and in due season will 
 70 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
y^ 
 
 -^^p. 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 don their festive garb, and that if I don't 
 prove more docile and relax I shall be ban- 
 ished to a cot in the attic." She finished 
 with a dramatic swirl of the dust cloth. 
 
 "Quite right. Good for the usurper!" 
 and he laughed at the victim's indignation. 
 " But really, Louise, they have not been as 
 bad of late, have they? " regarding her 
 solicitously. " I hoped those " 
 
 " You mean Henry and Barbara? 
 Worse 1" 
 
 " No. The headaches. Be serious a mo- 
 ment. You should not have so many." 
 
 " I quite agree with you. Dr. Belden. But 
 tell me," with a change of tone, " how is 
 5'our small family? " 
 
 " Well, let me see. Jane is well, she al- 
 ways is; and likewise James; and John sur- 
 vived the party, much to Jane's surprise. 
 Katy, at the tender age of fifty-two, is the 
 victim of an affaire du cceur, which makes 
 her nervous and the coffee very bad. 
 Adam, you know, is a Scientist, and never 
 71 
 
 90 f 
 
 // 
 
 // 
 
 # 
 
 ^. 
 
xM 
 
 ^. 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 verbally considers a material condition, 
 And I, as you may surmise, am hardly ex- 
 pected to live," and he drew himself up to 
 his full stature, expanding a generous chest 
 and a generous smile at the same time. 
 
 But his glance by chance falling on 
 Grandfather Strong's clock, the smile grew 
 less expansive, the visible march of time ag- 
 gravating his impatience. 
 
 In blissful ignorance Mrs. Strong looked 
 up at him. 
 
 " You are positively insulting with your 
 robustness," she declared with a frown. " I 
 don't understand, any way, why such a big 
 share of the ills of the flesh fall to women." 
 
 " Nor I, unless Eve was made out of the 
 worst rib Adam had." 
 
 This was an inspiration, born of despair, 
 and Robert Belden hoped it would preclude 
 further argument, but his hopes were vain. 
 
 " That's logical," he heard his sociable 
 
 companion say; then, spying some shreds of 
 
 tobacco on the floor between them, she be- 
 72 
 
 / 
 
 '^; 
 
#, 
 
 t--^ 
 
 fc 
 
 
 // 
 
 TAe/r Hearts' Desire 
 
 gan to sweep in a dilatory fashion as she 
 talked. 
 
 " It accounts, too, for any little moral 
 weakness Eve may " 
 
 " Louise," he interrupted, " Louise, 
 please don't — don't clean in here just now. 
 Please fix some other room. I have only 
 a little time, and — don't you know? I want 
 to see Miss — I want to see Barbara alone. 
 Won't you go and send her to me? " 
 
 She looked up at him blankly. The dust 
 cloth fell unheeded to the floor, and the 
 handle of the noisy sweeper dropped softly 
 against the seat of a cushioned chair. Then 
 the light of reason slowly dawned. Her 
 lips framed a faint but compendious " Oh ! " 
 and she fled from the room. 
 
 Just a moment, and he heard footsteps 
 coming down the stairs, and the faintly per- 
 ceptible rustle of a gown nearing the door. 
 
 Turning from the window through which 
 he had been gazing at the white beauty of 
 the world outside, Robert Belden waited, 
 
 
 
 %■ 
 
 w^yWli^j^^^0iA^^^^^^^^^ 
 
^\ 
 
 ,rf\ 
 
 •^ 
 
 % 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 his whole being keyed up to the highest 
 pitch. 
 
 Something of all he felt and hoped must 
 have emanated from his person, for Bar- 
 bara McClellan advanced but a little way 
 into the room, after a cordial " Good-morn- 
 ing," until, held by the brightness in his 
 countenance, she stopped and faltered, 
 " Why, what is it? You " 
 
 He had not moved since she entered the 
 door till now, as if in response to her appeal, 
 he came slowly forward, taking the hand 
 she offered, and the other one, too. 
 
 " I came to tell you that I love you, Bar- 
 bara." 
 
 The eyes that had so earnestly questioned 
 fell before his ardent gaze. 
 
 He bent his head until he felt the softness 
 of her hair against his face. 
 
 " And I want you to marry me to-morrow, 
 will you, dear? " 
 
 She looked up startled, perplexity and, 
 he thought, a shade of reproach in her eyes. 
 74 
 
 W^' 
 
 / 
 
-^, 
 
 vo-; 
 
 ' <* Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 h« <k She half withdrew her hands, but they lin- 
 
 4(V gered, trembling, and finally lay quite pas- 
 ^ sive in his masterful, tenacious clasp. 
 |. ({. " Marry you to-morrow? Why, I can't 
 j-l (fj understand," she murmured brokenly, a 
 wave of crimson surging over face, and neck, 
 and ears. 
 
 " No — no — how could you? " he said, as 
 one might speak to a troubled child. " But 
 come over here a moment in the sunshine, 
 and let me talk to you a little, Barbara. Let 
 me tell you all about it." 
 
 He led her to the couch and, placing him- 
 self beside her, began to speak in low, con- 
 vincing tones. 
 
 " First of all, I said I loved you. That's 
 really the beginning and the end. You may 
 have guessed a little, but you cannot know 
 how much. Only since the evening we spent 
 together alone here in front of the fire have 
 I known myself, and oh, since then, the 
 world has seemed newly made, and every- 
 thing worth while. I resolved to woo you 
 75 
 
 t. 
 
 / 
 
 W 
 
O^ff « * ' -O .'^,«» • ;N0^ «J. 
 
 ^./^A" 
 
 %^ 
 
 ^l 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 very tenderly, very patiently, for weeks, 
 months, years if need be; only I hoped and 
 sometimes almost dared believe that some 
 day soon your heart would respond a little 
 to the love in mine." 
 
 He paused a moment and looked away. 
 
 " Then last night " — softly, half rever- 
 ently he spoke, " a letter was given me to 
 mail to Santa Claus. I read it, and since — 
 oh! I have lived in the joy of an overwhelm- 
 ing conviction, and I know I am right, 
 sweetheart. It is part of our lives for me 
 to come to you to-day, and for you to say, 
 * I love you, Robert.' " 
 
 She stirred uneasily, and a tremulous sigh 
 escaped her, as with a bewildered air she 
 pushed back the hair from her face, her 
 hands tarrying a moment on either cheek, 
 before seeking the comfort of each other in 
 her lap. 
 
 He leaned forward and slightly towards 
 her. 
 
 " Perhaps you have not known it before," 
 76 
 
 \ 
 
 r^^i 
 
^ 
 
 / 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 he urged persuasively, " but it is true. You 
 cannot say you do not, Barbara. Oh, look 
 at me and say you do." 
 
 A merciless silence reigned while he 
 waited — waited expectantly, but she did not 
 look up at him, and she did not speak; only 
 the shadow of a smile crossed her face, as 
 one hand crept, like a little hypnotized 
 white mouse, into his. 
 
 " You blessed girl, you darling," he cried, 
 rapturously, raising it to his lips. Then 
 with adoring indulgence he smiled upon 
 her. For it was so like Barbara, such a 
 characteristic surrender; sufficient, though 
 not entire, betokening vaguely unreckoned 
 stores of precious treasures, still to be de- 
 livered in her own good time. 
 
 She stole a glance at him, which he caught 
 and tried to hold. 
 
 " Can't you say it, dear? " he questioned. 
 " I am waiting." 
 
 " Say what? " The words were barely 
 audible. 
 
 77 
 
 (<■:■■■ 
 
 
 r: 
 
 9 
 
A 
 
 //< 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " You know, your part," amused at the 
 feigned ignorance. "No? Well, is there 
 any really good reason why you should not 
 look at me? You used to, occasionally." 
 
 " I know " — she began, smiling up at 
 him. But she did not finish, though she did 
 look at him as she had never looked before, 
 and he knew it, and was man enough to 
 thrill and tremble under her tenderly 
 searching gaze. Please God, the fullness of 
 his love might lessen the burden of his faults 
 and incompleteness! 
 
 Slowly a confidence never to be expressed 
 in words illumined her face, while her fin- 
 gers strove for greater freedom in his clasp 
 — the beautiful freedom of untried privi- 
 leges and proprietary rights, a transcendent 
 joy for him to give. 
 
 Presently, taking an envelope from his 
 pocket, he put it in her hand. It had a 
 crooked address, and broken, untidy seal, 
 and Barbara looked at it in curious interest, 
 while he arose and stood before her. 
 78 
 
 \« 
 
 \ 
 
A MERCILESS SILENCE REIGXEU WHILE HE WAITED" 
 
H \\ 
 
 * 
 
 Their Hearts' Desb 
 
 " Will you read it? " he said, " and then," 
 in a confident tone, " I am sure you will 
 understand all the rest. You cannot help 
 it, Barbara." 
 
 He walked slowly to the other side of 
 the room and took a position in front of 
 the fire, following blindly the instinct 
 to efface himself as much as possible, 
 that her broad, beautiful, generous na- 
 ture might be wholly open to this last 
 appeal. 
 
 Not a sound but the crackling of the fire 
 upon the hearth broke the stillness of the 
 room. 
 
 From outside came the jingle of passing 
 sleigh-bells. 
 
 He listened intently. It seemed as though 
 he waited a long time. Could she have 
 stolen away? He turned noiselessly about. 
 No, she was there, but quite oblivious of 
 his presence. 
 
 She sat looking straight ahead of her, 
 
 smiling faintly, unshed tears upon her 
 
 79 
 
 :;i v\ 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
!i% 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 lashes, and the soul he had divined and wor- 
 shiped in her eyes. 
 
 " Oh, you darling! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Robert Belden did not move, almost fear- 
 ing to awaken her to a realization of this 
 new world which she had entered so uncon- 
 sciously in response to John's call; for he 
 comprehended fully that John was all she 
 saw, that she had not looked around and 
 did not know that he was there. 
 
 Softly he spoke her name, and she turned 
 a rapt face toward him. 
 
 " Barbara," once more he called, while 
 struggling manfully to get his equilibrium. 
 But the reaction from the preceding hours 
 was strong upon him, and this new atmos- 
 phere, so rare and intoxicating, robbed him 
 of all discretion. 
 
 He saw her rise, saw her coming towards 
 him, obedient to his voice, and then, before 
 he knew it, he had her in his arms, kissing 
 passionately her brow and eyes, and then her 
 lips. 
 
 80 
 
 ri 
 
 # 
 
 v{m: 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " Oh-h-h-h! " she gasped, as with rebel- 
 lious hands she freed herself. " I cannot, 
 to-morrow— so soon. Really, I cannot." 
 
 Robert Belden walked the length of the 
 room and back, to gain perfect mastery of 
 himself and a fresh hold on the situation, 
 and then, with new deference, stood before 
 her. 
 
 " Yes— yes, you can," he asserted. " I 
 will not again be guilty of appropriat- 
 ing John's Christmas Gift. I know— I 
 had no right. It shall be to me a very 
 sacred trust. I am happy— gloriously 
 happy," beaming upon her, " and quite 
 content to worship each day at what- 
 ever distance you may designate." The 
 tone was serious despite the facetious 
 words. " Forgive me, and believe me, 
 Barbara." 
 
 She made no direct reply, but the storm 
 of protest faded slowly from her face, 
 leaving it serene and happily contem- 
 plative. 
 
 8i 
 
 kv 
 
 % 
 
 M. 
 
 ff 
 
 i 
 
 
 - \? 
 
4-#^ 
 
 
 ^l^»J?1f' 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " Well, there's one thing," she began, 
 seating herself and regarding him solemnly, 
 " I must have time to look into your 
 habits." 
 
 " My habits? " with amused surprise. 
 
 " Yes, your habits, and I have reason to 
 believe they are very bad." 
 
 " I presume they are bad, some of them — 
 most of them, in fact," he answered humbly. 
 " But I'm sure you can reform me if you'll 
 only try." 
 
 " I know, but it's a good deal to under- 
 take," she continued. " When a man at the 
 beginning of his career planted ' high-ball 
 bushes ' in his mother's back yard, it's a 
 question if, at the age of forty, he isn't past 
 reforming." 
 
 "So he told you that, did he?" laugh- 
 ingly pinching her cheek, " but I'm not' 
 forty, my dear," he objected, adopting an- 
 other tone. " You can't play ' summer in 
 the lap of winter ' with me. I'm willing to 
 be your early autumn or Indian summer, but 
 82 
 
 S;^: 
 
 / 
 
« O •• 9 
 
 r^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 that's the hmit of my indulgence in this par- 
 ticular line. And it ought to satisfy any 
 reasonable woman." 
 
 " Yes, but where do you suppose he ever 
 heard the word?" she persisted. 
 
 " Probably from Jane. But, by the way, 
 in regard to habits, I have a word to say 
 myself. There is no doubt in his letter 
 John alludes to you, but this climbing busi- 
 ness I don't quite grasp. Now, was it at the 
 party he witnessed this — accomplishment of 
 yours? " 
 
 "How absurd!" she said, smilingly 
 defiant. 
 
 " Now, of course, my dear girl," he con- 
 tinued, " I want to be lenient, and so I shall 
 not object to your climbing in the country 
 or unfrequented parts of the park, but 
 really, I can't have my wife doing acrobatic 
 feats in the drawing-room.' 
 
 " Well, I shall never obey — never — about 
 
 anything," she warned him. " Besides,' 
 
 more seriously, " it isn't at all settled that 
 
 83 
 
 Si; 
 
 1^ 
 
 M 
 
 / 
 
■■)' 
 
 / 1 
 
 K^ 
 
 --*■=*= 
 
 Their Hearts' 
 you're going to have a- 
 finished lamely. 
 
 " Barbara! you're not going to be an In- 
 dian giver? " 
 
 " No, but I haven't asked Louise and 
 Henry yet, and I'm ashamed to tell them. 
 It's — so disgracefully sudden." 
 
 " Never mind, dear, I will, as I go out. 
 I am not one bit ashamed. Besides, they 
 have every reason to be thankful. It might 
 be worse, you know. Everything is thor- 
 oughly respectable, and — well, we might 
 elope." 
 
 "Really! Indeed!" with spirit and 
 heightened color. " You seem very sure of 
 yourself, Dr. Belden." 
 
 " No, not at all. Not of myself, ever, 
 with you. But I am of John. For you 
 know, Barbara," taking her chin in his hand 
 and raising her face to a more satisfactory 
 angle, " you know you would run away with 
 John Belden at a moment's notice. Now, 
 wouldn't you? " 
 
 84 
 
i% 
 
 ;t 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 " Yes, with John," she admitted. 
 
 " But not John's father? " 
 
 " Not John's father," she repeated, 
 changing the inflection. 
 
 " Which means," with an air of dejection, 
 " you do not love him — at least, as much as 
 John." 
 
 Barbara eyed him with suspicion. 
 
 " I think — you're putting on," she 
 said. 
 
 " You don't deny it." 
 
 " Oh, yes — yes, I do. Only — Don't you 
 see? It's so different. I have always loved 
 babies and children, even when I was noth- 
 ing but a child myself. Why, I used to bor- 
 row all the neighbors' and pretend that they 
 were mine. While with husbands, why, 
 you know — you can't " 
 
 " No, not exactly," he agreed, with a 
 smile. " But to be serious, I do see, dear, 
 and understand perfectly, that, after the ad- 
 vantages of dolls and borrowed offspring, 
 you are quite ready for John, and that it 
 8S 
 
 //& 
 
 
 / 
 
 
•^■^■^ 
 
 ea « OO 
 
 
 i 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 has not been possible, of course, to make 
 similar preparation for me." 
 
 She laughed happily at his manner of 
 stating it. 
 
 " But I have neglected some splendid op- 
 portunities," she admitted, shaking her head 
 regretfully. " Month after month I scorned 
 all the women's magazines had to ofifer on 
 Husbands; how to pick one, how to train 
 and manage one, even how to hold one." 
 
 " H'm'm! It sounds like the study of a 
 real beast, doesn't it? " he commented 
 grimly. 
 
 " Then," she continued, " there are sug- 
 gestions for the intelligent diversion of 
 the " 
 
 " Beast? " he questioned. 
 
 " Yes, and recipes for dishes calculated to 
 keep the " 
 
 " Beast," he suggested again. 
 
 She nodded her head. " Mild and tract- 
 able. So you see," she continued, " I will 
 just have to cram between now and " 
 
 / 
 
■_>- — ^^^ » -. 
 
 - p 
 
 Cfiapter 
 rcur 
 
 -*^. 
 
Cfiapter 
 Tour 
 
 ^^§?=(^- 
 
 B.i53.\RA Stood quite still where Rcber: 
 left her, as in a dream, which slowlv faded 
 with his receding footsteps. 
 
 She heard him as he bounded eagerly up 
 the stairs; heard his firm, reliant tread in 
 the direction of Henry Strong's study, and 
 finally the closing of the study door. 
 
 That ended her somnambulent coaditioo, 
 and starting, in sudden realization of mun- 
 dane limitations, she wished that she were 
 with him; waiting was so hard, and everv 
 insignificant sound startled her. 
 
 She wandered aimlessly about the r: r... 
 WTiat were they doing, she wondered, and 
 what was Robert saying? 'VMiat was he tell- 
 ing — how could he teU this wonderful thing 
 which she. as yet. hardly dared whisper to 
 herself — that he loved her — Barbara — and 
 that she loved him — ch, so dearly! She 
 
 i! 
 
 ■^- 
 
 
 \ 
 
 t 
 
 .- -t^ 1*%J-* ■V">* ' 
 
i(f' 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 passed the back of a pink-palmed hand 
 across her eyes, to shield them 
 blinding glory of the thought. 
 
 But the rest, would it seem lightly 
 reckoned to grave Henry Strong that 
 already, so quickly, the time was set? 
 It was incredible! The wild beating of 
 her heart increased every second, while 
 she longed, yet dreaded to hear the study 
 door open. 
 
 Seating herself, she spread with trem- 
 bling hands her handkerchief upon her lap, 
 and pulled out the rumpled corners with 
 scrupulous care. Its perfect smoothness ac- 
 complished, she folded the square of linen 
 diagonally across, doubled over opposing 
 ends, continued a rolling manipulation with 
 her deft fingers, until there emerged, as 
 from the hands of a real magician, a pseudo- 
 mouse of nursery origin. 
 
 She paused a moment to listen, and then 
 
 abstractedly applied a few finishing touches 
 
 to the head and tail, — presumably such, 
 92 
 
 
 o « 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 since they were at opposing ends, though 
 identical in contour. 
 
 Then, at last! She sprang to her feet, the 
 newly-created mouse clutched savagely in 
 one tense hand. An expectant light came 
 into her wide-open eyes, for voices sounded 
 in the hall above, then lightly falling foot- 
 steps, a cry of " Barbara, Barbara, I'm so 
 glad," and she was in Louise's arms. 
 
 " And I am so happy," she said, her head 
 on the coveted shoulder. 
 
 " So is Robert, dear." 
 
 "And so ashamed." 
 
 " Robert isn't. He's positively brazen 
 with joy and triumph. And pray, what are 
 you ashamed of, you old sweet thing? " giv- 
 ing her a squeeze for emphasis. 
 
 " Of to-morrow! " and Barbara, drawing 
 herself up, looked appealingly at her friend. 
 " Does it seem frivolous, or thoughtless, 
 or unwomanly so soon?" she questioned. 
 " I couldn't help it, really," and she wiped 
 away a happy tear with the inanimate mouse. 
 93 
 
 ^11 
 
 •\ 
 
r^^'A?^'' 
 
 W^r 
 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 *' But it does seem dreadful, Louise. Think 
 of being engaged one day and married the 
 next! Oh," she cried, a sudden wave of 
 realization troubling her, " do you realize 
 it's to-morrow? To-morrow/ And here it 
 is to-day already! " 
 
 She rose as if about to run away, then 
 turning, looked foolishly down into her 
 companion's face. " I wonder," she said 
 musingly, " if I'm getting ' luny,' as Maria 
 says. So much has happened " 
 
 " I'm inclined to believe you are," re- 
 plied Louise, her eyes bent upon the floor, 
 an inscrutable expression on her face. 
 
 Barbara's eyes sought the same point of 
 interest, and fell upon the forlorn, bedrag- 
 gled mouse that lay between them. She 
 stooped to get it, but Louise was before her, 
 and taking it gingerly between forefinger 
 and thumb, held it up for inspection. 
 
 " It's a beauty of its kind," she com- 
 mented, " but if on the very brink of matri- 
 mony it's indicative of your mental state, I 
 94 
 
 
 :.A 
 
 .^tn.. 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 really think you are ' luny,' " and she smiled 
 commiseratingly. " But Barbara," in a new 
 tone, " there is one thing I should like to 
 know, if it isn't presuming to ask. Why, 
 since you seem so troubled by the alacrity 
 with which things are moving along — why 
 are you letting them move? " 
 
 "Oh, don't ycu know? Didn't he tell 
 you? " 
 
 " No, he didn't. At least, I didn't wait to 
 hear. It was all such a relief, after my hour 
 of suspense," and Louise Strong heaved an 
 exaggerated sigh. 
 
 " Suspense? " said Barbara. 
 
 " Yes, suspense, my dear. Of course, you 
 don't know, but this morning Robert Belden 
 boldly asked me to vacate my own library, 
 and send you to him. He didn't say why," 
 shaking her head expressively, " but from 
 the look in his eye and the queer little catch 
 in his voice — don't you just love his voice, 
 Barbara? — I knew something was about to 
 happen." 
 
 95 
 
 ■A.. 
 
 \ 
 
=# 
 
 .^{J1^^I2 
 
 a 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 Barbara said nothing, only smiled en- 
 couragement. 
 
 " Well," Louise went on, " after you went 
 downstairs, I couldn't stand to be alone, so 
 I just went straight to Henry Strong's study 
 and climbed into his lap, right in the middle 
 of his sermon on ' The Eternal Fitness of 
 Things,' and held my breath, and pinched 
 the pious rector of St. Mark's Church, and 
 prayed a little for us all, and dear old Bob 
 in particular. And I felt all the time as 
 though I were going to explode, and "— 
 stopping for breath — " Henry was dying of 
 curiosity, of course, like all men, and I was 
 going to tell him, and then I couldn't till 
 I knew; so I just said, ' Henry Strong, don't 
 ask questions or talk, or do anything but 
 wish that what I'm wishing will come true.' 
 And then I took the pencil away, closed his 
 books and got just as close to him as I could 
 get, and he had to give up ' The Eternal 
 Fitness of Things ' and devote himself to the 
 a\\ful j/«fitness of me." 
 96 
 
 m. 
 
 i\i 
 
 1/7 
 
 % 
 
-it 
 
 ■t- 
 
 t 
 
 \. 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 Barbara, laughing, drew closer, 
 wanted to know the rest. 
 
 "And oh! " Louise exclaimed, " when I 
 heard Robert's step in the hall I almost ran 
 to the door, and when— I— saw him— well 
 I'm not perfectly sure," in a subdued tone, 
 "you'll have to ask him, Barbara, but I 
 think I hugged him, and I don't know for 
 how long." 
 
 " Oh-h-h," said Barbara, flushing at the 
 mere thought. 
 
 " Then I heard him say, ' People, she has 
 said yes,' and something about its being to- 
 morrow, and then I ran away to you. So 
 that is all I know." 
 
 " Then read this, dear," and Barbara gave 
 her John's letter. " It's my only vindication 
 for the to-morrow part." 
 
 Louise glanced over it. " Vindication! " 
 she cried. " You don't need a vindication. 
 And bless his lonely little heart! Whoever 
 would have guessed it! But out of the 
 clouds, dear," she cried, jumping up. 
 97 
 
 .rM 
 
 ^- 
 
 ^' 
 
 d) 
 
Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 " Give up dreaming and the making of 
 mice for a while and think about the real 
 necessities of life, wedding gowns and 
 things." 
 
 " I know I must. There isn't time to get 
 a real wedding dress, but I believe," 
 thoughtfully, " I have something that will 
 do very well. It's white, of the finest batiste, 
 Louise, and trimmed in a lot of real Val. 
 It's very pretty, really. I got it just before " 
 — she stopped in sudden recollection — " and 
 only wore it once," she went on softly, " and 
 father admired it so — liked it better than 
 anything I had, and somehow, since, I have 
 never had the heart to put it on. But 
 now " 
 
 " Now it's dififerent," ended Louise cheer- 
 
■*€. 
 
 1 
 
 ;;i 
 
 v-i 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 Maria ' in the kitchen, and then I'll come 
 upstairs and we'll talk it all over and decide 
 on everything, and after that you needn't 
 expect to see anything more of me this morn- 
 ing. Why, here's Henry," she announced, 
 as her husband appeared on the scene. 
 
 Henry Strong's expression alone would 
 have been quite enough to assure Barbara 
 of his entire approval, and the warm clasp 
 of his hand and words of congratulation 
 were all that was needed to fill her cup to 
 overflowing. 
 
 " I'll have to congratulate you, my girl, 
 even if it is bad form," he said, " for I know 
 the man." 
 
 " You're awfully good to me, and I don't 
 know what to say in defence of forcing a 
 wedding on the family," she said, looking 
 from one to the other. " But it's partly Rob- 
 ert's fault and partly John's — only a third 
 mine. And I do hope," she continued, " you 
 won't burden yourselves with the arrange- 
 ments. Let it all be simple and natural — 
 
 99 ■: ,-■■ 
 
 k 
 
 %::^ 
 
 >:ts 
 
 ^•4 
 
" -^^^'o^ '^^ixT^Aj^kr^'^-* 
 
 \. 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 just ourselves and the children. Really, I'd 
 much rather have it so. Anyway," turning 
 to Louise, " you know how prone you are 
 to headaches " She got no further. 
 
 " Aha! I recognize my opportunity, vile 
 oppressor!" cried Louise in tragic tones. 
 " You remember," facing Barbara in fiend- 
 ish glee, "Jo's party? — and me? — in bed? 
 Well, I'm master of ceremonies this time, 
 and except for preferences meekly ex- 
 pressed, I shall brook no interference from 
 you, my lovely bride to be! And now, fare- 
 well. You people can dwell on the spiritual 
 and romantic side of things all day, but I 
 must attend to beautifying the surroundings 
 of the bride and the satisfying of the inner 
 groom, to say nothing of the officiating 
 clergy," and she gently tweaked the nose of 
 her admiring spouse and swept out of the 
 room. 
 
 But the rector soon returned to his un- 
 finished discourse, and Barbara, after a 
 brief conference with Louise, was left to her 
 
 lOO 
 
 t,r 
 
 K« 
 
M 
 
 ^%E 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 own devices, which were of an exceedingly 
 shadowy and inconsequent character. 
 
 She never had a very distinct recollection 
 of that morning, except the element of joy 
 that pervaded everything, even the very air 
 she breathed. 
 
 She faithfully essayed occupation but ac- 
 complished little, for a deep, melodious 
 voice of which she never lost entire con- 
 sciousness, interposed persistently, again and 
 again, in words that sent her wits a- 
 wool-gathering and drove her, in a state 
 of blissful consternation, to the reassur- 
 ing perusal of John's letter, which some- 
 how seemed to hold the balance of the 
 world. 
 
 But finally, little by little, out of chaos, 
 a memorandum for the prospective after- 
 noon's shopping was evolved, in obedience 
 to Louise's parting injunction. It was not 
 remarkably explicit or lucid, even to Bar- 
 bara herself, and she quailed at the thought 
 of Louise's bantering scorn. 
 
 lOI 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 If 
 
 
 ^yM 
 
 — ^0*— r^"'' 
 
 y^Y.^mm^^ 
 
•mv. 
 
 4; 
 
 '4^^ ^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 However, judging from the glowing, con- 
 tented faces presented at the Strong dinner 
 table that evening, and the tales of endless 
 purchases with which the man of the house 
 was regaled : tales continually confirmed by 
 the deliver}^ of packages large, small, and 
 medium, at the front, side, and rear doors, 
 certainly the expedition had proven a suc- 
 cess, and exhilaration reaching the point 
 of irresponsibility possessed the shoppers. 
 They fairly gloried in exhausted bank ac- 
 counts, insisting that not a sou remained, 
 that even the copper funds hoarded by the 
 minister's household for the clothing and 
 education of African heathen had been con- 
 fiscated. 
 
 After dinner Barbara repaired to her 
 room to rest; at least, that is what she said 
 and meant to do. What she really needed 
 was to be alone, to find herself. As the hour 
 of Robert's coming drew near, she was con- 
 trolled, first, by a wild desire to see him, 
 and then by an equally wild desire to run 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
 0y^.^s^mA\0^Wm:^'l^'^^^^m^ 
 
-4^v^-^^^-^.!^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 away. For with physical exhaustion and the 
 night had come some doubts and perturba- 
 tion. 
 
 At present the future lay before her like a 
 strange land to whose very gates she had 
 been swept unwittingly. And now her girl- 
 hood pleaded for a moment's respite in 
 which to live over a happy past, enjoy life 
 as it was for a while, and steal, perchance, a 
 tiny glimpse into the future. 
 
 Oh, if it were only next week, instead of 
 to-morrow, this future ! The present was so 
 perfect, and she could change it all and be a 
 New Year's present just as well. She could 
 write John herself, explaining how it was, 
 that she was late in getting in — from Mars. 
 And all the time she knew she wouldn't — 
 that she couldn't. That he who had brought 
 her to the gate would carry her beyond. 
 She could feel the firm clasp of his hand 
 and his compelling eyes, and she was — be 
 truthful, Barbara! yes, glad to go. 
 Nevertheless, she whimsically arraigned 
 }2l 
 
 M 
 
 r,v'Sl« «%i//^^ny'^if^''^ 
 
 fi ^TlANiii'^ 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 him before her woman's bar of justice, the 
 charge, " unlawful coercion." 
 
 He had been merciless, had taken every 
 advantage of her weakness, but her mental 
 picture of him somehow quashed the ac- 
 cusation. " No, he was not splendidly hand- 
 some enough to be a real villain," she re- 
 flected with smiling tenderness. " Neither 
 was his coloring sufficiently intense." 
 
 Putting out the light, Barbara drew aside 
 the curtains, leaning her elbows on the sil 
 and her face in her hands. 
 
 That nothing stood for long in Robert 
 Belden's way was true, not because he domi- 
 neered, but that he dominated. Intensely 
 human, life in all its phases touched him, 
 but his very bearing spoke control and well- 
 directed manhood, and one always felt his 
 personality was plus their realization of it; 
 that there was more strength, more fire, 
 more tenderness than they could see. 
 
 his personal- 
 strong upon her, there grew in Barbara 
 
 Ji-=^jSu 
 

 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 a firm reliance in his power to recognize 
 and banish all forms of doubt and fear, even 
 the husband himself if need be; and after 
 watching his approach to the house, she did 
 not even wait to be summoned, but de- 
 scended the stairs with glad anticipation 
 and noiselessly entered the room. 
 
 He was standing with his back to the 
 door and did not hear or see her. 
 
 " Oh, I'm so glad you've come," she said, 
 laying a hand ever so lightly upon his arm. 
 It was promptly covered with one of his. 
 He turned and looked at her. 
 
 " Why, you've grown more beautiful 
 since morning, Barbara," he said with won- 
 derment. 
 
 " No, only happier," discreetly withdraw- 
 ing her hand. 
 
 " I like to hold it, — it's — no trouble," he 
 assured her with a whimsical smile. 
 
 " No, but — won't you have a chair? " she 
 questioned, taking one herself. 
 
 " Instead? Thanks, awfully," amused at 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 M. 
 
 - %i 
 
 \\ 
 
 \ 
 
/'^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 the unusual formality. " But, Barbara, 
 what's the matter with the room? " looking 
 about with curiosity at the pile of curtains 
 on the couch, an occasional rolled up rug, 
 misplaced furniture, and a general air of 
 confusion and preparation. " It looks as if 
 it were on the brink of a revolution." 
 
 " I guess it is. Some one's going to be 
 married in here to-morrow." 
 
 "Really? How interesting! And what's 
 that over there? " 
 
 " Where? " looking around. 
 
 " There," indicating a large expanse, 
 quite devoid of furniture. 
 
 " Oh, that? The place of execution, 
 probably." 
 
 " H'm'm! It must be a large and portly 
 victim, or else they are very prodigal of 
 space," he remarked dryly. 
 
 " But there are two," explained Bar- 
 bara. 
 
 "Two? What a shame! And both 
 young and handsome, I presume. Grue- 
 io6 
 
 4 
 
 et" 
 
 M^. 
 
 
 :^r^ 
 
% 
 
 v^x^ Ax \^, ^ 
 
 ^-^" 
 
 \\ 
 
 4- 
 
 „«- . 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 some, isn't it? " he said, assuming his favor- 
 ite position before the fire. 
 A ^ " Dreadfully gruesome. Would you 
 rather go to the drawing-room?" she en- 
 quired, knowing well what the answer 
 would be. 
 
 "Horrors! No." 
 
 She laughed softly at him, and then turn- 
 ing her gaze again on the fateful spot, be- 
 came suddenly grave and silent. Robert 
 grew restless. An air of remoteness about 
 her troubled him. 
 
 Closely he scrutinized her face. Just the 
 profile was visible, but it was very sweet and 
 womanly, and child-like too, he thought, 
 and it came to him the first time that day 
 what to-morrow meant to Barbara. It 
 meant a great deal to him, a man. Not- 
 withstanding his happiness, the day had not 
 passed without serious thought. It meant 
 a great deal more to her, a woman. 
 
 Impulsively he poked the smouldering 
 logs on the andirons, an involuntary expres- 
 107 
 
 !# 
 
 n/ 
 
 // 
 
 H^ 
 
 
 ^>,t'»'\*^/j: 
 
'il^^ -,' 
 
 1^- 
 
 /li 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 sion of a thought to cheer. With quick 
 flame and lively crackle the fire brightened 
 the prospect, making even obscure things 
 Q softly roseate and giving Robert courage to 
 enquire: 
 
 " You're not frightened, Barbara, or sorry 
 it's — to-morrow? " 
 
 " No," turning slowly toward him. 
 " No, not when I'm with you," she 
 said. 
 
 "And when you are not?" 
 
 "A little." 
 
 " And that's why," exultantly advancing 
 upon her, " you were glad when I came to- 
 night? " 
 
 " I guess so," looking up at him fool- 
 ishly, " for this afternoon you seemed quite 
 — formidable, and now you are here, you 
 are just plain Robert Belden, M.D., and 
 I'm not afraid a bit." 
 
 To prove it she leaned a bit toward him, 
 
 lightly brushing her cheek against his coat 
 
 sleeve. 
 
 io8 
 
 Pl • 
 
 'iAJ^^ 
 
i-^ :V 
 
 :li 
 
 / 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 "Barbara! you child!" 
 
 He wanted, oh, all sorts of things for an 
 instant, and then contented himself, having 
 learned that what she freely gave was 
 sweeter far than what he took, and unfail 
 ingly heralded a greater blessing. 
 
 After a moment's happy silence, he drew 
 up a chair. " Tell me," he said, " what you 
 have been doing all day." 
 
 " Well," she began, " I met Louise at 
 Clancy's about one, where we had lunch, 
 and then she piloted me around, and oh, the 
 
 things we bought! " getting ready to 
 
 enumerate them on her fingers. " Trains 
 of cars, silk dresses for cooks, firemen's 
 suits, marbles, negligees, a coat, toy automo- 
 biles, a drum, Christmas tree decora- 
 tions, two dolls, gloves, two watches, ten 
 books " 
 
 " Oh, stop, have pity," he cried, impris- 
 oning her hands. " My head is spinning 
 and you put me to shame. I was on the 
 rampage three whole hours myself, and 
 109 
 
 / 
 
 *" /- 
 
 ; i'/ 
 
 
 m 
 

 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 this " — laying a small white box in her lap, 
 " is all I managed to bring home." 
 
 Barbara opened it and exclaimed with 
 delight as she viewed the contents admir- 
 ingly from all angles and in all lights. 
 Then, in a practically interested tone, and 
 with an inquiring upward glance, " For 
 Jane, or the cook? " she said. 
 
 " Neither. The new housekeeper." 
 
 " Oh! " striving to be unconcerned. 
 
 " Do you think she'll like it? " anxiously. 
 
 " She'll love it, I'm sure, only " steal- 
 ing another look at him, " aren't you afraid 
 you're spoiling her? " 
 
 "Not a bit." 
 
 "With such a beginning! why, she'll be 
 expecting diamond tiaras and ruby stom- 
 achers at the end of six months." 
 
 "Gracious! You don't mean it!" and 
 Robert Belden wrinkled his brow with well 
 assumed anxiety. " Well," slipping the 
 ring on her finger with sudden resolution, 
 " it will have to be thoroughly understood, 
 
 ^l. ^f^si 
 
^f^') 
 
 \\ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 then, that this is simply a retaining fee, to 
 preclude all other possible engagements, 
 and not a forerunner of emblazoned breast- 
 plates and headgear. But I'm so glad it 
 fits, dear, and that you like it," he added 
 softly, " and I hope it heralds only the best 
 for you, my girl." 
 
 " It does, I know. It heralds you." 
 
 "That's very sweet, and I shall try to 
 prove it true. But about the arrangements 
 for this — ' execution ' I believe you called 
 it? You haven't told me a thing, and I'm 
 really interested." 
 
 "At six, in here, just the family — and 
 your brother, is he coming? " 
 
 " Yes. The only member of the family 
 available on such short notice. But I 
 talked over the long distance with Sue to- 
 day." 
 
 "Oh, what did she say? Was she 
 shocked? " 
 
 " Not a bit of it, only, of course, it was 
 a trifle startling. But after she got through 
 
 ^ ^ ^ J^ 
 
 :::^> 
 
"j^ 
 
 V\ V, 
 
 3irnT*:^i*!=:*~ 
 
 .l^J 
 
 \ 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 gasping and saying ' Robert! Really, you 
 don't mean it! ' and so on, she sent all kinds 
 of loving messages to you, seeming to forget 
 that I existed. Then she wanted to gossip 
 as to when and where it happened, the exact 
 color of your hair and eyes, how old you 
 are — really impudent questions, Barbara. 
 I had to call a halt." 
 
 They laughed merrily. " I think you'll 
 have a line from her to-morrow," he 
 added. 
 
 Then they talked of John, and Jane, and 
 of what John's life had been, and what it 
 was to be, even to his senior year at 
 college. 
 
 And Barbara imparted her plans for their 
 first Christmas day and the denouement in 
 the morning, and in response to eager in- 
 quiries, Robert told her of John's hopes and 
 fears, as indicated by conversation with him- 
 self and Jane. 
 
 " Strange," he said, " that while the little 
 shaver seems to have it so constantly in mind, 
 
 h\ 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
 "#U^^ 
 
■fr>\ 
 
 <^.r-- 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 and alludes to it frequently, he has never 
 consciously betrayed himself. He goes just 
 so far, and no farther." 
 
 " Do you really believe he expects me? " 
 Barbara asked. 
 
 " Perhaps not you. No, I don't believe 
 he does. For I think he feels somehow that 
 mothers are matters of direct inheritance, 
 and scarcely available in this world. That's 
 why he's banking on another planet." 
 
 "Bless him! Isn't he funny — but pa- 
 thetic, too," she said. 
 
 " Yes, he has literally ' hitched his wagon 
 to a star.' He not only believes, but his 
 faith absorbs him — all but his appetite. 
 He still eats, I'm glad to say." 
 
 " I can hardly wait for Christmas to 
 come," and Barbara glowed with enthusi- 
 asm. 
 
 " Neither can I ; only, of course," with a 
 resigned air, " I don't expect to figure much. 
 But," rising, " you are tired and sleepy, 
 yes you are," he insisted when she shook 
 
 ■A 
 
 W 
 
 f 
 
 A A 
 
 • W^^s^^^ 
 
\N 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 her head, " and I'm not going to keep you 
 up another minute. Just think, Barbara," 
 his voice growing low and tender, " I'm 
 saying good-bye, and I shall not come again, 
 unless I'm needed, till I come to take you 
 home. Home, dear, our home, and John's. 
 I cannot tell you what it means — 
 what it will mean to have you always 
 there." 
 
 He smiled in seeming indecision, then 
 took a position behind her, resting his arms 
 on the back of her chair. 
 
 " Shall I tell you what I did to-night? " 
 he asked. " I forgot when I said I brought 
 only the ring home, for on the way from 
 the jeweler's I saw — some sort of — work- 
 box. That's what made me late for dinner. 
 It took so long to find just the right one, 
 and get it properly equipped. Guess I was 
 hard to suit," he admitted, laughing, and 
 he stopped to push in place a loosened hair- 
 pin and admire the shining braids that 
 
 crowned her head. 
 
 114 
 
 
 m 
 
 .>T^1 
 
 v« 
 
1^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " And what did you do? " Barbara ques- 
 tioned. 
 
 " Well, after dinner, in the living room, 
 where I always sit, I drew into place oppo- 
 3 site, but not very far from mine, a low, 
 easy chair — the one you always use when 
 '": you come to see me in my dreams, and I 
 ^ put a little stool before it for your feet. 
 On the table you will find your friends 
 Tom Moore, ' The Brushwood Boy,' 
 and Barrie's ' Little White Bird,' and 
 beside them a dish of violets that I 
 fixed myself. Then, on the other side 
 of the table, near the lamp, is the sewing- 
 box, Barbara, and — guess what is in- 
 side." 
 
 " Scissors." 
 
 " Little ones, with gold handles." 
 
 " And thread." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "And needles." 
 
 " Enough to last a lifetime, I should 
 think. But try again." 
 115 
 
 / 
 
 Mr:^:^^ 
 
 ^V 
 
 ^^, 
 
vt^i 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 "Why, I can't think. Oh, yes, how 
 stupid! A thimble, of course." 
 
 " Yes, and other things, including an 
 appetizing red silk radish, a new Burbank 
 variety, I presume, for polishing needles. 
 But none of these are the things I mean, 
 dear. Guess again." 
 
 " Why, I can't imagine, really," she said, 
 puckering her brow. 
 
 He leaned over her. " My gloves," he 
 whispered, " that need mending, and have 
 a button ofif. You — don't mind?" a bit 
 abashed at his presumption. " There's a 
 box of Alegrettis in the table drawer," he 
 added lightly, with a boyish idea of redeem- 
 ing himself. 
 
 She put one slim hand over her shoulder 
 to get him, and he found her eyes full of 
 tears when he faced her, and one big, over- 
 grown, unmanageable one had fallen out 
 upon her cheek. 
 
 " Why, what's the matter, mein liebchen? 
 
 You don't have to " 
 
 ii6 
 
 ^1 
 
 / 
 
W^'L 
 
 
 ^ ^.n.-^^,^'^^ 
 
 # 
 
 The following evening, at the same time 
 that John Belden, with Adam and Jane in 
 attendance, was partaking of his evening 
 meal, in blissful ignorance of the pregnancy 
 of the hour, the idol of his dreams stood 
 the center of an admiring group. 
 
 Mrs. Strong, putting a few finishing 
 touches here and there, viewed her with 
 critical satisfaction, and Elizabeth and Jo, 
 who had been admitted to witness the com- 
 pletion of the bridal array, with feelings of 
 awe and childish delight, while Margaret, 
 whose admiration completely absorbed her 
 German mentality, sat mechanically bv, 
 holding as in a vise the ten-months-old 
 Henry Strong, Jr. He divided his atten- 
 tion between vicious attacks on a rubber 
 rooster and soulful appeals to Barbara to 
 take him. 
 
 IS 
 
 fcl-^'V^!*'-*- 
 
 -- a. 
 
Vs 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 Why she didn't he couldn't in the least 
 understand, and after each futile appeal, 
 dashed the rooster vindictively to the floor 
 and scolded lustily until Margaret was suffi- 
 ciently aroused to restore it to his capricious 
 hands. 
 
 " No, you are not going to your Auntie 
 Barbara to-night, young man," his mother 
 said, as he made another demand for Bar- 
 bara's attention. " Lay him down on the 
 couch, nurse, and get his bottle so that he 
 may have it promptly at six. Now I must 
 go downstairs. I think I heard the front 
 door close. Which probably means the 
 groom, and he may need me to lean upon, 
 who knows? He's such a timid lad." 
 
 " And you'd be such a healthy prop." 
 
 " Don't be too scornful. You may have 
 need of me yourself before the evening's 
 over," warned Mrs. Strong, starting on a 
 final tour of inspection. " Well, you're 
 perfect, absolutely, dress and all," she an- 
 nounced, rounding up in front of the bride, 
 
-==-*/>/ No o 
 
 / 
 
 n^ 
 
 nl<^ 
 
 their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " and you look like an angel — or madonna, 
 or something, I don't know what. Now 
 kiss me, and obey instructions. This may 
 be a small affair, but it has to go off with 
 some degree of system and eclat. Now 
 don't forget," admonishing with her fore- 
 finger, " that as soon as you hear the first 
 
 notes — I mean " correcting herself 
 
 hastily, " I mean as soon as the clock strikes, 
 you are to come." 
 
 "Why can't I go down now, with you? 
 I'm ready." 
 
 " Why, Barbara, my dear, I wouldn't 
 think of allowing it. Who ever heard of 
 a decorous bride presenting herself at the 
 altar ahead of time? " and Mrs. Strong tried 
 to frown. " I'm shocked. You, of all 
 people! Besides, I want a moment to look 
 over the groom, in the absence of the female 
 members of his family, and see that the 
 flowers and candles are in working order. 
 Come, children." 
 
 " Oh, please let them wait and come with 
 123 
 
 1:^ 
 
 \^ 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 ¥^m 
 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 me. Almost all brides have some attend- 
 ants," argued this one. 
 
 " Well," pausing to consider, " I don't 
 mind, if you'll promise to keep them at 
 arm's length. But remember, both of you," 
 turning to the young hopefuls, " don't you 
 dare to touch your Aunt Barbara, and walk 
 downstairs ahead of her, so you will not 
 step on her dress," and gathering up the 
 trailing folds of her own blue gown, Mrs. 
 Strong proceeded downstairs. 
 
 " April fool," she drawled in sing-song 
 fashion, encountering the impatient groom's 
 expectant eye and advancing form as she 
 entered the library. Then she sailed airily 
 by to greet his brother, their only guest. 
 " I'm so glad you're here," she said. 
 
 " So am I," George Belden responded. 
 " But it was such a surprise I hardly got 
 my breath in time to come." 
 
 " Or I, in time to have you. I tell you, 
 these are strenuous times we are livmg 
 in." 
 
 124 
 
 :M: 
 
 V^' 
 
 ^. 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " And whoever would have thought it 
 of Bob, the deliberate? " suggested Bob's 
 brother. 
 
 " Or Barbara, the reserved, for that mat- 
 ter," supplemented Mrs. Strong. " But one 
 never can tell." 
 
 " No, not when Fate and Santa Claus 
 both take a hand," said the gentleman in 
 question. " But will you kindly tell me, 
 Mrs. Strong, where one Barbara is?" 
 
 " Upstairs, I think," she said, matter-of- 
 factly. " And how are you this evening? " 
 
 " Not at all. Grooms never are, you 
 know. But when is she coming down?" 
 he persisted. 
 
 " The ceremony is at six, I believe," she 
 responded, with studied indifference, by a 
 look referring the matter to her husband. 
 Then she left them to adjust a vase of lilies 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 added, encountering the trio of amused 
 glances, " for I think on the whole I'm do- 
 ing very well." 
 
 " You're all right, Bobby Belden," and 
 Mrs. Strong patted his arm sympathetically, 
 " but you are funny." 
 
 As she finished speaking, softly, from the 
 church, through the medium of the Rector's 
 study, there came to them, as from another 
 world, the sweetly solemn strains of Wag- 
 ner's Bridal Song from Lohengrin. 
 
 Very still they stood and listened, while 
 the music grew in strength and volume, 
 charged with unspeakable things. 
 
 Slowly, solemnly, one-two-three-four-five- 
 six — the clock tolled the hour. Henry 
 Strong took his place between the waiting 
 lilies and the candles, and the bridegroom 
 drew a little nearer to the door. 
 
 Soon, mingled with the organ's song, 
 could be distinctly heard the high, sweet 
 treble of children's voices in joyous excla- 
 mation, growmg more -subdued and hushed 
 
 "*ll 
 
l-^ If-'- 
 
 ^♦A, 1 O O 
 
 "^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 as they approached. Then a sudden burst 
 of uncurbed, gurgling mirth from an unex- 
 pected but unmistakable source fell upon 
 the air, and as it faded away in expressions 
 of cooing felicity, her voice in crooning ad- 
 monition. 
 
 " Must be Auntie Barbara's good boy," 
 it said, and then she smiled upon them from 
 the doorway. In her arms, triumphant, a 
 tear-stained, red-cheeked, wide-eyed, night- 
 gowned cherub, one chubby arm about her 
 neck, while from beneath the blanket that 
 enfolded him, five pink toes squirmed in 
 ecstacy. 
 
 His fond mother bore down upon them 
 with consternation, transferring him in- 
 stantly to the arms of the attending Marga- 
 ret, who administered his evening meal 
 without delay. 
 
 " Please let him stay," pleaded Barbara. 
 " He cried to come with me, and I couldn't 
 leave him crying," and she turned for Rob- 
 ert's justification. 
 
 ■M 
 
 m-. 
 
 i 
 
 % 
 
'¥/ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 " But your dress I " said Louise, in tones 
 of distress, pulling out a bit of rumpled 
 lace. 
 
 But Barbara didn't hear at all, for some 
 one else was speaking. 
 
 " I am waiting. Are you ready? " 
 
 The music, and the voice, they seemed 
 almost as one, and both enthralled her. In 
 his outstretched hand she put her own. It 
 trembled a little; still she smiled at him 
 bravely as he led her to " the place of 
 execution." 
 
 Once during the ceremony, just as Bar- 
 bara was taking her vow of fealty, the 
 voice of the youngest Strong was heard 
 in spirited objection. It concerned the 
 proper adjustment of his bottle, but 
 fitly interpreted as an expression of senti- 
 ment, it did not lessen the impressive 
 sweetness of the service, and at its close, 
 the bride kissed the guest in arms first 
 of all, after which, satiated with con- 
 quest and attention, and drowsy with warm 
 
 I 
 
 \V 
 
 \ . 
 
■4i 
 
 11 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 milk, His Royal Highness was borne will- 
 ingly to bed. 
 
 The hours following were never to be 
 forgotten hours. In the absence of Dame 
 Grundy and her set, the rarer spirits of love 
 and perfect happiness stalked fearlessly 
 abroad in laughter, tears unshed and honest 
 congratulations; and more substantially evi- 
 denced in Maria's delectable wedding feast, 
 supplemented later by a generous service of 
 rice, old shoes and good wishes, a portion 
 of which rested on the top of the carriage 
 as Mr. and Mrs. Belden rode away. 
 
 After the closing of the carriage door, ex- 
 cept for inquiries regarding her comfort, 
 Robert left Barbara to herself. Passively 
 she submitted to his solicitous care, dreamily 
 content to watch the procession of street 
 lamps, listen to the creaking wheels upon 
 the snow, and as the carriages passed, won- 
 der who the bride and groom were, and 
 whither they were going. 
 
 But as the horses slackened their speed 
 129 
 
 %' 
 
 -.m-. 
 
 "^ 
 
 U.: 
 
 M& 
 

 ' ^"A^y^' 
 
 \\ 
 
 h 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 to enter the drive, she leaned forward to 
 peer through the half-frosted window. 
 
 " Where are we? " she questioned with 
 diffidence. 
 
 " Just inside the gate, and if John only 
 knewl There," directing her gaze, "the 
 farther room at the corner is his, and the 
 one with the light, immediately next, is 
 yours. And here we are. Step with care," 
 he cautioned playfully, helping her out. 
 " This delivery of valuable Christmas pres- 
 ents is beginning to wear on my nerves," and 
 he put an arm about her with a fine air of 
 vigilance. " That will be all, James, good- 
 night," he called over his shoulder, as they 
 ascended the steps. 
 
 " Good-night, sor," came in half con- 
 gealed Irish accents from the box. 
 
 Half consciously Barbara watched the 
 carriage fade into the darkness, while Rob- 
 ert slipped the key into the latch. 
 
 " We'll not ring," he said, " because I 
 want to open the door for you myself and — 
 J.3°. 
 
 ^. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 .^/i 
 
 y/ 
 

 ©,tv/10 O vT" 
 
 M 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 lock you safely in," he added, smiling as he 
 closed it, and adjusted the bolt and chain. 
 " Now! " with a deep sigh of contentment. 
 
 She looked up at him quite at a loss, her 
 pulses fluttering. What a tremendous word 
 it seemed, and she had none commensurate 
 to offer. 
 
 Impulsively she tendered him her muff. 
 He took it, wondering a little. 
 
 " There isn't any place to keep it," she 
 explained, looking helplessly about, as if 
 expecting to find wardrobe facilities just 
 inside the door. 
 
 " We'll find a place," he assured her, sup- 
 pressing a smile. " But first won't you come 
 in to the fire and take off your wraps? " and 
 he ventured to push back the hood of her 
 coat. 
 
 Barbara followed him dubiously, experi- 
 mentally, as it were, in that highly wrought, 
 sensitive frame of mind where in the falling 
 of a leaf a die is cast. And the man who 
 loved her, guessing as much, or nearly, de- 
 
 -5. A ^ 4- 
 
 / 
 
 r 
 
 y 
 
 ^L. 
 
 0iV^^S*^=;^^i^ oTlyW^I 
 
r^^^a: 
 
 
 •/^. 
 
 
 ii¥ 
 
 .^^^^ ^ 
 
 ■^rn^;--^'-;^'?:^: 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 termined that her mood should guide 
 him. 
 
 He took off his coat and laid it across a 
 chair and put her muff on top. Then he 
 brightened the fire and turned the burner 
 in the lamp a little higher, moving easily 
 and naturally, scarcely looking at Barbara, 
 though conscious of every move she made, 
 almost of her breathing, so keen his thought 
 was of her. 
 
 At length she spoke. " Isn't it strange? " 
 
 " You mean the room? " 
 
 " No, that it isn't — strange, I mean. I 
 thought perhaps it would be. But — I feel 
 almost as though I had been here before," 
 and she looked up at him for explanation. 
 
 " You have, many times. You may have 
 forgotten," he conceded, as she demurred, 
 " but I have seen you with my own eyes 
 for as much as — a quarter of a minute! It 
 was a joy to have you, dear, even for a little 
 time, but such a disappointment when you 
 went away. Oh! you must let me get that 
 132 
 
 ,j <, 
 
 ^. 
 

 '^i 
 
 w 
 
 t;/ -^ 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 coat off, Barbara, 
 
 he exclaimed, starting 
 
 impulsively toward her. 
 
 She gave him a look that made his fingers 
 all thumbs, then heartlessly left him to 
 struggle with the fastening of her wrap, 
 while she revelled in new knowledge of his 
 tastes and daily life, for everything in the 
 room proclaimed him. Barbara began to 
 understand why it was already home and 
 not a strange abode, as her eyes wandered 
 with tender interest over the carefully 
 selected rugs, big, comfortable chairs and 
 fascinating rows of books, to the big mahog- 
 any table with its splendid reading lamp 
 and ready literature, and his beloved pipes. 
 She loved each and every one herself. 
 Then, casually appreciating the absence of 
 pretty bric-a-brac, she enjoyed the restful 
 diversion of a few choice pictures and the 
 refreshing stimulus of a bronze Napoleon 
 and a roaring lion that she longed to pat. 
 
 " No," she breathed, 
 
 back to his face, " it 
 
 mging 
 
 eyes 
 
 is so like you, so com- 
 
 
 // 
 
 'f\r 
 
 / 
 
 WwWjMa^ 
 
\N 
 
 // !;! ^ Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 fortable and homelike, that I want to 
 stay." 
 
 " Even with no diamond tiaras and ruby 
 stomachers in prospect? " 
 
 " Even so," she said, her gaze wandering 
 to the dish of violets on the table. 
 
 He wondered, as, resting his hands for 
 an instant upon her shoulders to stay his 
 arms from quite encircling her, could she 
 mean to be so temptingly sweet? 
 
 He took the coat and carried it to the 
 farther side of the room and put it with 
 his own; a simple act, affording him some 
 degree of satisfaction and a moment's time 
 to renew his resolutions. 
 
 Barbara walked over to the fire, observ- 
 ing as she did so a Flying Mercury upon 
 the mantle shelf. Quite like an old friend, 
 he seemed, and she smiled upon him with 
 real affection. There had been one in her 
 father's room at home. She laid one hand 
 caressingly upon its base. 
 
 " Do you know, Robert," she began, and 
 134 
 
 /f 
 
 "^ 
 
 m 
 
f^^f^m^mr^i'^'^^i^- ^^%: 
 
 then something 
 
 her attention upward, and her eyes en- 
 countered other eyes, claiming recognition 
 gently, but irresistibly. 
 
 As though rebuked, she withdrew her 
 hand and clasped it behind her with the 
 other one and retreated a step, but her gaze 
 never wavered, while intuitive knowledge 
 of the pictured face oppressed her." 
 
 " Do I know what? " said Robert Belden, 
 turning to retrace his steps. And then he 
 grasped the situation. 
 
 Barbara did not answer. Revulsion, for 
 the moment, made her dumb. Something 
 tightened about her throat — even the right 
 to breathe seemed suddenly denied her. 
 " Why, oh why? " her heart cried, and 
 " Why? " the girlish, wistful face above her 
 questioned, too. 
 
 How like John's it was, she mused, and 
 
 a wave of tender compassion surged 
 
 within her, crowding out the thought of 
 
 self, that, struggling, spent itself in the 
 
 135 
 
 / 
 
 %i/ 
 
r^^; 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 swift movement of passionate appeal 
 with which she sought her husband's 
 arms. Clinging to him in tense silence 
 for a time, at length, with hands slip- 
 ping from his shoulders and eyes down- 
 cast, she murrnured, " I think — I — am — 
 ashamed." 
 
 He took the hands and kissed them ferv- 
 ently. "You needn't be, God bless you! 
 But look at me, Barbara, look long, until 
 you' re — su re — f o r eve r. " 
 
 She answered with a little wilful shake 
 of the head, a tremulous smile about her 
 lips. " Excuse me, but I shall not look — 
 at all," she said. " What's the use? " And 
 turning to her own easy chair, she sank into 
 it with an exquisite air of abandon. " I 
 think I'm ready for my mending now," she 
 told him, and the eyes she raised to his were 
 cloudless and wonderfully sweet. 
 
 " No, I can't have you sewing to-night," 
 he remonstrated, happily, seeing she had 
 come into her own again. 
 
 •1 
 
 •i/j A 
 
 !/'■>■ 
 
 N^/Vfr^^Ji^. 
 
• -^-^^ 
 
 Their Hearts' 
 
 " But the gloves? " 
 
 " Hang the gloves! I need a little atten- 
 tion myself," and he established himself on 
 the arm of her chair, ready to receive it 
 "Goodness, but you're sweet!" he added 
 with a sigh, looking down at her But not 
 even this remark brought the slightest recog- 
 nition of his presence. " Now what are 
 you thinking about? " he questioned en- 
 viously. "Your friends, the Martians?" 
 
 " Not — exactly," she hesitated, smihng 
 up at him. " I was only — wondering " 
 
 " I thought perhaps you were regretting 
 — some handsome Lothario with landed in- 
 terests in Mars. By the way, I hope you're 
 prepared to give unlimited information, 
 Mrs. Belden, regarding your former resi- 
 dence, for John's questions are " 
 
 " Oh, but he'll recognize me, don't you 
 think he will? " she interrupted, " and per- 
 haps be disappointed." 
 
 " How do you mean? " 
 
 " Why, that I didn't come from Mars.' 
 137 
 
 * 0// 
 
 /ti 
 
 K^ht 
 
J/ ''^ Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 " He will never think of it. How could 
 
 . he, when he sees you? Besides, I am sure 
 
 .^v^^-IaC' that Mars idea is cherished just to offset the 
 
 contingency that a mother is not available 
 
 here. Don't you see? " 
 
 " Perhaps so," meditatively. " But won't 
 it be exciting? " she went on, her enthusiasm 
 growing as she dwelt on their plans for the 
 morning. " I don't believe I shall sleep a 
 wink to-night." 
 
 " Oh, but you must. And I presume 
 you'd better go up now. I'll ring for Jane." 
 Returning to her side, he held out his hands. 
 " Come, Barbara," he said. 
 
 She rose languidly, her eyelids drooping. 
 " Oh, I was so cozy," she complained. 
 
 " I know," a brooding tenderness in the 
 eyes he bent upon her. " No matter how 
 sleepy children are, they never want to go 
 to bed." Then, Jane answering his sum- 
 mons, was given Barbara's wraps and the 
 new mistress entrusted to her care. " I 
 know that you will see that she is com- 
 138 
 
 A 
 

 a 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 fortable," he concluded, as Jane moved 
 away. 
 
 " Give any further instructions you may 
 wish about to-morrow," he said, turning to 
 Barbara. " And now, good-night, dear, 
 happy dreams." 
 
 " Good-night," said Barbara, but she 
 lingered till Jane turned to ascend the stairs, 
 then quickly, as though fearing a host of 
 witnesses might come, she raised her eyes 
 to her husband's face. " I want to tell 
 you," she said softly, little catches in her 
 breathing, " how good you are — and how 
 much I love you — almost as much — Oh-hl 
 more than all the world, my dear!" She 
 finished with his arms about her. 
 
 " I'm glad," was all Robert Belden could 
 find voice to say. But in his eyes there was 
 more than Barbara could fully comprehend 
 of love and tenderness. 
 
 Mounting the stairs a half hour later, 
 with his wife's carriage shoes tucked snugly 
 under one arm, Robert Belden paused on 
 139 
 
 4, ^ ^ 4. 4 
 
 lb 
 
 / 
 
 // 
 
 |Mi 
 
 ^i! 
 
 y> 
 
 ^' 
 
^ ^ . . • o • 
 
 i^ Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 , the landing, his attention arrested by a faint 
 noise in the lighted hall above, and with- 
 
 ' drawing into the deeper shadows of a 
 corner, he saw emerge from the guest room 
 next to John's, an angel I 
 
 He was sure it was an angel, for it had 
 the light of Heaven in its face, despite the 
 fact it carried a football and a gun and 
 wore a flowing, diaphanous, lace-trimmed 
 negligee. 
 
 With throbbing heart, he watched it 
 move towards John's half-open door, and 
 for a moment a wild desire possessed him 
 to confine wdthin his humanizing arms this 
 bit of spiritual glory, football, gun and 
 all; but distrust of what the penalty might 
 be for molesting a celestial being held him 
 back, until the vision disappeared, and then 
 drove him in mad haste to the safety of 
 his room. 
 
Cf\apfer 
 Six 
 
 V. 
 
 The roseate rays of a but lately risen 
 sun shone on a semi-conscious world, when 
 in a corner room of a big house on G street 
 there was a sudden upheaval of bedclothes, 
 arms, head and tousled hair, and John 
 Belden, in a final struggle with Morpheus, 
 landed on his feet beside the bed. Then, 
 rubbing his sleepy eyes, he tried to think 
 who or what it was at the door of his con- 
 sciousness so persistently proclaimed its 
 arrival. For the shadows of Morpheus' 
 retreating form obscured the face, and his 
 sleep-sodden mind could not recall the 
 name ; only its warmth, and cheer, and glory 
 reached him, as it clamored for admission. 
 
 " Come, John, wake up, wake up," it 
 called. 
 
 The importuned one, in blue and white 
 pajamas, sat on the edge of the bed, looking 
 
 «^ 
 
 
 i 
 
 \|'| 
 
 £/*■■' i 
 
 m 
 
 M 
 
 '- ^'1. • '^ 
 
 life- ''.'I 
 
 / 
 
 \ 
 
.<SJ^-:- 
 
 Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 stupidly before him, his eyes fixed on a 
 well-filled stocking suspended in mid-air. 
 And that gradually became the shining 
 nucleus round which the warmth and joy 
 and cheer took definite form and spelled 
 him " Christmas." That was it, it was 
 Christmas day! 
 
 A radiant welcome shone in John's face, 
 but the recognition produced no impetuous 
 hurrah, no customary war dance. A mys- 
 tic hush subdued the commoner joys into a 
 harmonious background for the awe-in- 
 spiring presence of the one, supreme: the 
 mother that he longed for, wrote for, 
 dreamed of, prayed for — she was first. And 
 now his confidence in her nearness, real and 
 tangible, intensified a hundredfold the pre- 
 vious superlatives of his childish thought, 
 till maternal grace suffused the world. 
 
 Rising to his feet, with sanguine air 
 John's eager eyes explored the utmost 
 corners of the room. Twice they served 
 him in a futile search, and then something 
 
 4 
 
 ^^»i^S?0l<ftr 
 
^^y^ -'^^i^'^^^^^^^^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 hurt him dreadfully inside, for he faced an 
 aching void. She — was — not — there! 
 
 Like a thunderbolt out of a clear sky it 
 came, striking John fair between the eyes. 
 Half dazed, he took one despairing look 
 under the bed, then crawled back in, and, 
 condensing his misery into the smallest pos- 
 sible space, lay motionless, the covers drawn 
 close about his head. 
 
 Just what transpired beneath them it is 
 impossible to say, but Hope, ever alert, 
 gathered her forces anew and presently 
 lured him forth into the world again, where, 
 supported by a feather pillow and her stal- 
 wart arms, he found just cause for laughing 
 at himself. 
 
 "Of course, how silly he had been!" 
 He almost laughed aloud. " To expect to 
 find her just any where, sitting up, too, when 
 she would be tired and sleepy, just like 
 other folks. Of course she would." This 
 point was most convincing. " Santa Claus 
 had put her some place to rest 
 
 ^"^s^^^^^A^ 
 
 j k'i^M^^i-^d^w^^'^^'Wim^ 
 
Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 one would," he argued impatiently. " He 
 would himself, he knew, only, he couldn't 
 quite make up his mind just where." 
 
 He thought of the comfortable couch in 
 the library, and again of the empty beds 
 upstairs. There was one in the room right 
 next to his. John's heart gave a bound at 
 the thought and all it might entail, and a 
 sudden project moved him. 
 
 Full to bursting with hope and the ex- 
 citement of immediate action, he gave 
 the covers a mighty kick and once more 
 scrambled out of bed. But this time he 
 knew where he was, and why, and just what 
 he meant to do. 
 
 Across the room hung a heavy curtain. 
 It concealed a door, unused and always kept 
 locked, but only yesterday, during a strenu- 
 ous cleaning, it had been opened for a time, 
 so the opportunity it afforded for secret in- 
 vestigation was fresh in John's mind. It 
 led into a closet, which, in turn, opened 
 into the adjoining room, thus making it 
 146 
 
><)te 
 
 h 
 
 PI 
 
 i% 
 
 V 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 possible for John to investigate that, at 
 least, without a chance of meeting any one 
 who might ask questions, a thing he shrank 
 from even at this decisive hour. 
 
 Hitching up his pajama trousers from 
 the droop occasioned by the vigorous dis- 
 charge of bedclothes, John walked quickly 
 over to the curtain, pulled it aside, and care- 
 fully turned the key in the lock. He paused 
 to look furtively behind him, and then, 
 grasping the knob with both hands, slowly, 
 cautiously, with abated breath, opened the 
 door and crept into the closet. 
 
 About him all was dim and uncertain. 
 He thought he smelled flowers, but he was 
 not sure, and all that he could see were 
 seeming shadows, that, soft and yielding to 
 his touch, filled him with delicious though 
 vague intimations of impending joy. 
 
 "Oh, if he should find her— if he 
 should!" 
 
 With outstretched hands, John made his 
 way to the farther door. He found it 
 
 14/ 
 
 \V 1' 
 
 
 ,tA1- 
 
 \./4 
 
 
m,, 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 slightly ajar, and promptly applying one 
 well-squinted eye to the opening, descried 
 a pile of white packages tied with scarlet 
 ribbon, and the end of an open trunk. He 
 gasped. It had never occurred to him that 
 there would be one. 
 
 Trembling with excitement, he gently 
 pushed against the door. Slowly it swung 
 upon its hinges, gradually revealing a chair 
 almost covered with a pile of indiscriminate 
 fluffy whiteness, and then another, and on 
 that reposed two white slippers and a pair 
 of stockings, also white. 
 
 The slippers John indifferently associ- 
 ated with shoe-shop windows, but the stock- 
 ings warmed his heart. They meant some- 
 thing. They really belonged to some one. 
 They had been worn, he could plainly see 
 by the suggestive fulness and the unmis- 
 takable imprint of garter clasps. 
 
 It all went through his head in a twink- 
 ling, and his mind, stimulated by the di- 
 gested evidence of a trunk and contents of 
 
 '^\ , 
 
 M 
 
-JI : ■iOU RE MV REALLY MOTHER, AREN 
 
 YOU ? ' " 
 
S^ =^^yfe-. _ 
 
 \ 
 
 /• 
 
 4i 
 
 ^i 
 
 ^ ^^^'^^^^^^^'^'^^^^^^-^^^^^--^^^^ 
 
 ';l ii Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 \-i ^ two chairs, demanded something more. So 
 he proceeded to once again enlarge his 
 range of vision. 
 
 A prolonged and ominous squeak ensued. 
 
 John's eyes grew big with alarm. He 
 caught his breath and held it. He also 
 pressed his bare toes in stringent anxiety 
 against the polished floor, while waiting for 
 the walls to fall, or something equally in- 
 convenient. 
 
 But nothing happened ! The same death- 
 like stillness prevailed. The world slept 
 on. And at length John risked a comfort- 
 able breath, and at intervals another, and 
 another, until, a certain degree of poise 
 restored, anxiety was lost in contemplation 
 of a vase of flowers upon the dressing 
 table. 
 
 The vase had been there yesterday, he 
 knew, but the flowers, the little purple flow- 
 ers — John's face grew luminous. As in a 
 dream, he remembered seeing them before, 
 was 
 
 W^^^^0iMv%^ 
 
 •t^iMi^ 
 
^^i^]mm^ 
 
 M 
 
 i^ 
 
 Their Hearts' Desire 
 
 many miles away, and now — to have them 
 here? — Tears gathered in his eyes, for the 
 light was dazzling. 
 
 He could not understand at all, only — 
 some one must have brought them ; some 
 one must have put them in the vase; some 
 one had undressed and gone to bed, of 
 course, since there is no other place to go, 
 divested of one's clothes. 
 
 And now Logic took a hand and led him 
 without delay through the glittering maze 
 of complex thought and feeling that en- 
 gulfed him, past the outstanding door, to 
 an unobstructed view of the mahogany 
 four-poster. 
 
 One single glance sufficed, and John 
 clapped both hands over his mouth to sup- 
 press a gigantic whoop, and a lot of smaller 
 ones persisting in its wake, and which, de- 
 nied escape, made him writhe in silent glee. 
 For she had brought the flowers herself — 
 from Jo's — and gone to sleep again, and 
 right in the middle of a smile. ] 
 150 
 
 A 
 
 tM-s 
 
Km^^^^' 
 
 1 p Thei 
 
 t A failed to notic( 
 
 eir Hearts* Desire 
 
 ce she had forgotten to entirely 
 
 f 
 
 (i : close one eye. 
 
 (; In his consciousness surcharged with joy, 
 there was no room for thought of how or 
 why she came to be there. Neither was 
 there solicitude for the mother he coveted. 
 Why should there be, since somehow all 
 the longing of his heart was satisfied. 
 
 Softly he approached the bed. Oh, he 
 wanted to grab her; he fairly ached to; but 
 it might not be exactly polite, so he only 
 ventured to handle the lacy softness of her 
 gown and touch with the tip of one finger 
 the tiny band of shining gold upon her 
 hand. And just at this most inopportune 
 time, Nature, without warning, expostu- 
 lated in a vigorous sneeze. It fairly cleaved 
 the air. John dropped as though it had 
 been a bullet and he the victim; and lying 
 just as close to the floor as he could get, he 
 heard the soft rustle of the bedclothes 
 above him, and he knew the supreme mo- 
 ment had come. 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 ^': 
 
Their Hearts* Desire 
 
 Over the side of the bed slowly descended 
 a heavy braid of bronze-brown hair. Then 
 appeared a smiling face, surmounting a 
 milk-white throat and breast, and a voice 
 said, 
 
 " My dear/ I'm afraid you're catching 
 cold. Don't you want to get in bed with 
 me?" 
 
 John wriggled to his knees, his lustrous, 
 worshipping eyes fixed on the face. 
 
 " Oh-h 1 you're my — really — mother, 
 aren't you?" he breathed ecstatically and 
 with sublime assurance, for who else would 
 tender such an invitation! 
 
 " I — belong to John Belden," she said, 
 and held out to him her arms.