MISTRESS 
 
 ANNE 
 
 TEMPLE BALI
 
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 Cx^t i - <_ 
 
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 SHE SHOWED HIM HER SCHOOL
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 BY 
 
 Temple Bailey 
 
 Author of 
 "Glory of Youth" "Contrary Mary" 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS BY 
 
 F. VAUX WILSON 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING 
 
 COMPANY PHILADELPHIA 
 
 1917
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 1917 BY 
 
 THE PBNN 
 PUBLISHING 
 COMPANY 
 
 First printing, April, 1917 
 Second printing, May, 1917 
 Third printing, June, 1917 
 
 Mistress Anne
 
 To 
 P. V. B. 
 
 who sees the sunsets
 
 Contents 
 
 I. IN WHICH THINGS ARE SAID OF DIOGENES 
 
 AND OF A LADY WITH A LANTERN . 1 1 
 
 II. IN WHICH A PRINCESS SERVING FINDS 
 THAT THE MOTTO OF KINGS Is MEAN- 
 INGLESS ...... 21 
 
 III. IN WHICH THE CROWN PRINCE ENTERS 
 
 UPON His OWN 36 
 
 IV. IN WHICH THREE KINGS COME TO CROSS- 
 
 ROADS 51 
 
 V. IN WHICH PEGGY TAKES THE CENTER OF 
 
 THE STAGE 62 
 
 VI. IN WHICH A GRAY PLUSH PUSSY CAT 
 
 SUPPLIES A THEME .... 77 
 
 VII. IN WHICH GEOFFREY WRITES OF SOLDIERS 
 
 AND THEIR SOULS . . . 91 
 
 VIII. IN WHICH A GREEN-YED MONSTER 
 
 GRIPS EVE . . . . . .111 
 
 IX. IN WHICH ANNE, PASSING A SHOP, TURNS 
 
 IN 136 
 
 X. IN WHICH A BLIND BEGGAR AND A BUT- 
 TERFLY Go TO A BALL . . 149 
 
 XI. IN WHICH BRINSLEY SPEAKS OF THE WAY 
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN .... 160 
 
 XII. IN WHICH EVE USURPS AN ANCIENT 
 
 MASCULINE PRIVILEGE . . . .178 
 
 7
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 XIII. IN WHICH GEOFFREY PLAYS CAVE MAN . 196 
 
 XIV. IN WHICH THERE Is MUCH SAID OF MAR- 
 
 RIAGE AND OF GIVING IN MARRIAGE . 210 
 
 XV. IN WHICH ANNE ASKS AND JIMMIE AN- 
 SWERS 226 
 
 XVI. IN WHICH PAN PIPES TO THE STARS . 239 
 XVII. IN WHICH FEAR WALKS IN A STORM . 256 
 
 XVIII. IN WHICH WE HEAR ONCE MORE OF A 
 
 SANDALWOOD FAN .... 274 
 
 XIX. IN WHICH CHRISTMAS COMES TO CROSS- 
 ROADS ...... 284 
 
 XX. IN WHICH A DRESDEN-CHINA SHEP- 
 HERDESS AND A COUNTRY MOUSE MEET 
 ON COMMON GROUND .... 298 
 
 XXI. IN WHICH ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL . 314 
 
 XXII. IN WHICH ANNE WEIGHS THE PEOPLE OF 
 
 Two WORLDS ..... 333 
 
 XXIII. IN WHICH RICHARD RIDES ALONE . . 347 
 
 XXIV. IN WHICH ST. MICHAEL FINDS LOVE IN A 
 
 GARDEN 361 
 
 8
 
 Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 SHE SHOWED HIM HER SCHOOL . . . Frontispiece 
 " You COULDN'T THROW THEM FAR ENOUGH " . 16 
 " I SHALL STAY WITH You". . . . 219 
 
 HER RED HAIR CAUGHT THE SUNLIGHT .321 
 
 Mistress Anne
 
 Mistress Anne 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 In Which Things Are Said of Diogenes and of a 
 Lady With a Lantern. 
 
 THE second day of the New Year came on Satur- 
 day. The holiday atmosphere had thus been 
 extended over the week-end. The Christmas wreaths 
 still hung in the windows, and there had been an 
 added day of feasting. Holidays always brought 
 people from town who ate with sharp appetites. 
 
 It was mostly men who came, men who fished and 
 men who hunted. In the long low house by the 
 river one found good meals and good beds, warm 
 fires in winter and a wide porch in summer. There 
 were few luxuries, but it pleased certain wise Old 
 Gentlemen to take their sport simply, and to take 
 pride in the simplicity. They considered the magnifi- 
 cence of modern camps and clubs vulgar, and as 
 savoring somewhat of riches newly acquired; and 
 they experienced an almost aesthetic satisfaction in 
 the contrast between the rough cleanliness of certain 
 little lodges along the Chesapeake and its tributary 
 
 ii
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 tide-water streams, and the elegance of the Charles 
 Street mansions which they had, for the moment, left 
 behind. 
 
 It was these Old Gentlemen who, in khaki and 
 tweed, each in its proper season, came to Peter 
 Bower's, and ate the food which Peter's wife cooked 
 for them. They went out in the morning fresh and 
 radiant, and returned at night, tired but still radiant, 
 to sit by the fire or on the porch, and, in jovial 
 content, to tell of the delights of earlier days and of 
 what sport had been before the invasion of the 
 Philistines. 
 
 They knew much of gastronomic lore, these Old 
 Gentlemen, and they liked to talk of things to eat. 
 But they spoke of other things, and now and then 
 they fell into soft silences when a sunset was upon 
 them or a night of stars. 
 
 And they could tell stories 1 Stories backed by 
 sparkling wit and a nice sense of discrimination. 
 On winter nights or on holiday afternoons like this, 
 as, gathered around the fire they grew mildly con- 
 vivial, the sound of their laughter would rise to Anne 
 Warfield's room under the eaves ; she would push 
 back the papers which held her to her desk, and 
 wish with a sigh that the laughter were that of young 
 men, and that she might be among them. 
 
 To-day, however, she was not at her desk. She 
 was taking down the decorations which had made 
 the little room bright during the brief holiday. To- 
 
 12
 
 A LADY WITH A LANTERN 
 
 morrow she would go back to school and to the 
 forty children whom she taught. Life would again 
 stretch out before her, dull and uneventful. The 
 New Year would hold for her no meaning that the 
 old year had not held. 
 
 It had snowed all of the night before, and from 
 her window she could see the river, slate-gray against 
 the whiteness. Out-of-doors it was very cold, but 
 her own room was hot with the heat of the little 
 round stove. With her holly wreaths in her arms, 
 she stood uncertain in front of it. She had thought 
 to burn the holly, but it had seemed to her, all at 
 once, that to end thus the vividness of berry and of 
 leaf would be desecration. Surely they deserved to 
 die out in that clear cold world in which they had 
 been born and bred I 
 
 It was a fanciful thought, but she yielded to it. 
 Besides, there was Diogenes ! She must make sure 
 of his warmth and comfort before night closed in. 
 
 She put on her red scarf and cap and, with the 
 wreaths in her arms, she went down-stairs. The Old 
 Gentlemen were in the front room and she had to 
 pass through. They rose to a man. She liked the 
 courtliness, and gave in return her lovely smile and 
 a little bow. 
 
 They gazed after her with frank admiration. 
 "Who is she?" asked one who was not old, and 
 who, slim and dark and with a black ribbon for his 
 eye-glasses, seemed a stranger in this circle. 
 
 13
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 41 The new teacher of the Crossroads school. 
 There wasn't any place for her to board but this. 
 So they took her in." 
 
 " Pretty girl." 
 
 The Old Gentlemen agreed, but they did not dis- 
 cuss her charms at length. They belonged to a 
 generation which preferred not to speak in a crowd 
 of a woman's attractions. One of them remarked, 
 however, that he envied her the good fortune of 
 feasting all the year round at Peter Bower's table. 
 
 Anne, trudging through the snow with the wreaths 
 in her arms, would have laughed mockingly if she 
 had heard them. It was not food that she wanted, 
 not the game and oysters and fish over which these 
 old gourmands gloated. What she wanted was the 
 nectar and ambrosia of life, the color and glow the 
 companionship of young things like herself I 
 
 Of course there were the school children and there 
 was Peggy. But to the children and Peggy she was 
 a grown-up creature. Loving her, they still made 
 her feel age's immeasurable distance, as she had felt 
 her own distance from the Old Gentlemen. 
 
 It was Peggy, who, wound in her mother's knitted 
 white shawl until she looked like a dingy snowball, 
 bounced from the kitchen to meet her. 
 
 " Where are you going ? " she asked. 
 
 The young teacher laughed. " Peggy," she said, 
 " if you will never tell, you may come with me." 
 
 " Where ? " demanded Peggy. 
 
 '4
 
 A LADT WITH A LANTERN 
 
 " Across the road and into the woods and down to 
 the river." 
 
 " What are you carrying the wreaths for? " 
 
 " Wait and see." 
 
 The road which they crossed was the railroad. 
 Over the iron rails the trains thundered from one 
 big city to another, with a river to cross just before 
 they reached Peter Bower's. Very few of the trains 
 stopped at Peter's, and it was this neglect of theirs, 
 and the consequent isolation, which constituted the 
 charm of Bower's for town-tired folk. Yet Anne 
 Warfield always wished that some palatial express 
 might tarry for a moment to take her aboard, and 
 whirl her on to the world of flashing lights, of sky- 
 scraping towers and streaming crowds. 
 
 " What are you going to do with the wreaths ? " 
 Peggy was still demanding as they entered upon 
 the frozen silence of the pine woods. 
 
 " I am going down as close as I can to the water's 
 edge, and I am going to fling them out as far as I 
 can into the river. And perhaps the river will carry 
 them down to the sea, and the sea will say, ' Whence 
 came you ? ' and the wreaths will whisper, ' We came 
 from the forest to die on your breast, the river 
 brought us, and the winds sang to us, and above us 
 the sky smiled. And now we are ready to die, for 
 we have seen life and its loveliness. It would have 
 been dreadful if we had come to our end in the ashes 
 of a little round stove.' " 
 
 15
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Peggy stared, open-eyed. She had missed the 
 application, but she liked the story. 
 
 " Let me throw one of them," she said. 
 
 " You couldn't throw them far enough, dear heart. 
 But you shall count, ' one, two, three ' for me. And 
 when you say ' three ' I'll throw one of them away, 
 and then you must count again, and I will throw the 
 others." 
 
 So Peggy, quite entranced by the importance of 
 her office, took her part in the ceremony, and Anne 
 Warfield stood on top of the snowy bank above the 
 river, and cast upon its tumbling surface the bright 
 burden which it was to carry to the sea. 
 
 It was at this moment that there crossed the bridge 
 the only train from the north which stopped by day 
 at Peter Bower's. The passengers looking out saw, 
 far below them, sullen stream, somber woods, and a 
 girl in a gay red scarf. They saw, too, a dingy 
 white dot of a child who danced up and down. 
 When the train stopped a few minutes later at 
 Bower's, six of the passengers stepped from it, three 
 men and three women, a smartly-dressed, cosmo- 
 politan group, quite evidently indifferent to the 
 glances which followed them. 
 
 Anne and Peggy had no eyes for the new arrivals. 
 If they noticed the train at all, it was merely to give 
 it a slurring thought, as bringing more Old Gentle- 
 men who would eat and be merry, then hurry back 
 again to town. As for themselves, having finished 
 
 16
 
 "you COULDN'T THROW THEM FAR ENOUGH :
 
 A LADY WITH A LANTERN 
 
 the business of the moment, they had yet to look 
 after Diogenes. 
 
 Diogenes was a drake. He lived a somewhat 
 cloistered life in the stable which had been made 
 over into a garage. He had wandered in one morn- 
 ing soon after Anne had come to teach in the school. 
 Peter had suggested that he be killed and eaten. 
 But Anne, lonely in her new quarters, had appreciated 
 the forlornness of the old drake and had adopted him. 
 She had named him Diogenes because he had an air 
 of searching always for something which could not 
 be fouqd. Once when a flock of wild ducks had 
 flown oyerhead, Diogenes had listened, and, as their 
 faint cries had come down to him, he had stretched 
 his wings as if he, too, would fly. But his fat body 
 had held him, and so still chained to earth, he 
 waddled within the limits of his narrow domain. 
 
 In a cozy corner of the garage there was plenty 
 of straw and a blanket to keep off draughts. Mrs. 
 Bower had declared such luxury unsettling. But 
 Anne had laughed at her. " Why should pleasant 
 things hurt us ? " she had asked, and Mrs. Bower 
 had shaken her head. 
 
 " If you had seen the old men who come here and 
 stuff, and die because their livers are wrong, you'd 
 know what I mean. Give him enough, but don't 
 pamper him." 
 
 In the face of this warning, however, Anne fed the 
 old drake on tidbits, and visited him at least once a 
 
 17
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 day. He returned her favors by waiting for her at 
 the gate when it was not too cold and, preceding 
 her to the house, gave a sort of major-domo effect 
 to her progress. 
 
 Entering the stable, they found a lantern lighting 
 the gloom, and Diogenes in a state of agitation. 
 His solitude had been invaded by an Irish setter a 
 lovely auburn-coated creature with melting eyes, who, 
 held by a leash, lay at length on Diogenes' straw, 
 with Diogenes' blanket keeping off the cold. 
 
 The old drake from some remote fastness flung 
 his protest to the four winds 1 
 
 " He's a new one." Peggy patted the dog, who 
 rose to welcome them. " He ought to be in the 
 kennels. Somebody didn't know." 
 
 Somebody probably had not known, but had 
 learned. For now the door opened, and a young 
 man came in. He was a big young man with fair 
 hair, and he had arrived on the train. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, as he saw them, " but 
 they told me I had put my dog in the wrong place." 
 
 Peggy was important. " He belongs at the ken- 
 nels. He's in Diogenes' corner." 
 
 "Diogenes?" 
 
 The old drake, reassured by the sound of voices, 
 showed himself for a moment in the track of the 
 lantern light. 
 
 " There he is," Peggy said, excitedly ; " he lives in 
 here by himself." 
 
 18
 
 A LADT WITH A LANTERN 
 
 Anne had not spoken, but as she lifted the lantern 
 from its nail and held it high, Richard Brooks was 
 aware that this was the same girl whom he had 
 glimpsed from the train. He had noted then her 
 slenderness of outline, the grace and freedom of her 
 pose ; at closer range he saw her delicate smallness ; 
 the bloom on her cheek ; the dusky softness of her 
 hair ; the length of her lashes ; the sapphire deeps 
 of her eyes. Yet it was not these charms which ar- 
 rested his attention ; it was, rather, a certain swift 
 thought of her as superior to her surroundings. 
 
 " Then it is Diogenes whose pardon I must beg," 
 he said, his eyes twinkling as the old drake took 
 refuge behind Anne's skirts. " Toby, come out of 
 that. It's you for a cold kennel." 
 
 " It's not cold in the kennels," Peggy protested ; " it 
 is nice and warm, and the food is fixed by Eric Brand." 
 
 " And where can I find Eric Brand ? " 
 
 " He isn't here." It was Anne who answered him. 
 " He is away for the New Year. Peggy and I have 
 been looking after the dogs." 
 
 She did not tell him that she had done it because 
 she liked dogs, and not because it was a part of her 
 day's work. And he did not know that she taught 
 school. Hence, as he walked beside her toward the 
 kennels, with Peggy dancing on ahead with Toby, 
 and with Diogenes left behind in full possession, he 
 thought of her, quite naturally, as the daughter of 
 Peter Bower. 
 
 19
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 It was an uproarious pack which greeted them. 
 Every Old Gentleman owned a dog, and there was 
 Peter's Mamie, two or three eager-eyed pointers, 
 setters, hounds and Chesapeake Bay dogs. Old 
 Mamie was nondescript, and was shut up in the 
 kennels to-night only because Eric was away. She 
 was eminently trustworthy, and usually ran at large. 
 
 Toby, given a box to himself, turned his melting 
 eyes upon his master and whined. 
 
 " He was sent to me just before I left New York," 
 Richard explained. " I fancy he is rather homesick. 
 I am the only thing in sight that he knows." 
 
 " You might take him into the house," Anne said 
 doubtfully, " only it is a rule that if there are many 
 dogs they all have to share alike and stay out here. 
 When there are only two or three they go into the 
 sitting-room with the men." 
 
 " He can lie down behind the stove in the kitchen," 
 Peggy offered hospitably. " Mamie does." 
 
 Richard shook his head. "Toby will have to 
 learn with the rest of us that life isn't always what 
 we want it to be." 
 
 He was startled by the look which the girl with the 
 lantern gave him. "Why shouldn't it be as we 
 want it ? " she said, with sudden fire ; "if I were 
 Providence, I'd make things pleasant, and you are 
 playing Providence to Toby. Why not let him 
 have the comfort of the kitchen stove ? " 
 
 20
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 In Which a Princess Serving Finds That the Motto 
 of Kings is Meaningless. 
 
 TOBY, safe and snug behind the kitchen stove, 
 was keenly alive to the fact that supper was 
 being- served. He had had his own supper, so that 
 his interest was purely impersonal. 
 
 Mrs. Bower cooked, and her daughter Beulah 
 waited on the table. The service was not elaborate. 
 Everything went in at once, and Peter helped the 
 women carry the loaded trays. 
 
 Anne Warfield ate usually with the family. She 
 would have liked to sit with the Old Gentlemen at 
 their genial gatherings, but it would not, she felt, 
 have been sanctioned by the Bowers. Their own 
 daughter, Beulah, would not have done it. Beulah 
 had nothing in common with the jovial hunters and 
 fishers. She had her own circle of companions, her 
 own small concerns, her own convictions as to the 
 frivolity of these elderly guests. She would not 
 have cared to listen to what they had to say. She 
 did not know that their travels, their adventures, 
 their stored-up experience had made them rich in 
 anecdote, ready of tongue to tell of wonders un- 
 
 21
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 dreamed of in the dullness of her own monotonous 
 days. 
 
 But Anne Warfield knew. Now and then from the 
 threshold she had caught the drift of their discourse, 
 and she had yearned to draw closer, to sail with 
 them on unknown seas of romance and of reminis- 
 cence, to leave behind her for the moment the at- 
 mosphere of schoolhouse, of small gossip, of trivial 
 circumstance. 
 
 It was with this feeling strong upon her that to- 
 night, when the supper bell rang, she came into the 
 kitchen and asked Mrs. Bower if she might help 
 Beulah. She had no feeling that such labor was be- 
 neath her. If a princess cared to serve, she was 
 none the less a princess ! 
 
 Secure, therefore, in her sense of unassailable dig- 
 nity, she entered the dining-room. She might have 
 been a goddess chained to menial tasks a small 
 and vivid goddess, with dusky hair. Richard 
 Brooks, observing her, had once more a swift and 
 certain sense of her fineness and of her unlikeness to 
 those about her. 
 
 The young man with the black ribbon on his eye- 
 glass also observed her. Later he said to Mrs. 
 Bower, " Can you give me a room here for a 
 month ? " 
 
 " I might. Usually people don't care to stay so 
 long at this time of year." 
 
 " I am writing a book. I want to stay." 
 
 22
 
 A PRINCESS SERVING 
 
 Beside Richard Brooks at the table sat Evelyn 
 Chesley. With the Button- Ames, and Philip Meade, 
 she had come down with Richard and his mother to 
 speed them upon their mad adventure. 
 
 Evelyn had taken off her hat. Her wonderful hair 
 was swept up in a new fashion from her forehead, a 
 dull gold comb against its native gold. She wore a 
 silken blouse of white, slightly open at the neck. 
 On her fingers diamonds sparkled. It seemed to 
 Anne, serving, as if the air of the long low room were 
 charged with some thrilling quality. Here were 
 youth and beauty, wit and light laughter, the per- 
 fume of the roses which Evelyn wore tucked in her 
 belt. There was the color, too, of the roses, and of 
 the cloak in which Winifred Ames had wrapped her 
 shivering fairness. The cloak was blue, a marvel- 
 ous pure shade like the Madonna blue of some old 
 picture. 
 
 Even Richard's mother seemed illumined by the 
 radiance which enveloped the rest. She was a slen- 
 der little thing and wore plain and simple widow's 
 black. Yet her delicate cheeks were flushed, her 
 eyes were shining, and her son had made her, too, 
 wear a red rose. 
 
 The supper was suited to the tastes of the old 
 epicures for whom it had been planned. There were 
 oysters and ducks with the juices following the 
 knife, hot breads, wild grape jelly, hominy and 
 celery. 
 
 23
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 The fattest Old Gentleman carved the ducks. 
 The people who had come on the train were evi- 
 dently his friends. Indeed, he called the little lady 
 with the shining eyes " Cousin Nancy." 
 
 "So you've brought your boy back?" he said, 
 smiling down at her. 
 
 "Oh, yes, yes. Cousin Brin, I feel as if I had 
 reached the promised land." 
 
 " You'll find things changed. Nothing as it was 
 in your father's time. Foreigners to the right of 
 you, foreigners to the left. Italians, Greeks bar- 
 barians cutting the old place into little farms blot- 
 ting out the old landmarks." 
 
 "I don't care; the house still stands, and Richard 
 will hang out my father's sign, and when people 
 want a doctor, they will come again to Crossroads." 
 
 " People in these days go to town for their 
 doctors." 
 
 Richard's head went up. " I'll make them come 
 to me, sir. And you mustn't think that mother 
 brought me back. I came because I wanted to 
 come. I hate New York." 
 
 The listening Old Gentlemen, whose allegiance 
 was given to a staid and stately town on the 
 Patapsco, quite glowed at that, but Evelyn flamed : 
 
 " You might have made a million in New York, 
 Richard." 
 
 " I don't want a million." 
 
 " Oh," she appealed to Brinsley Tyson, " what can 
 
 24
 
 A PRINCESS SERVING 
 
 you do with a man like that without red blood- 
 without ambition ?" 
 
 And now it was Richard who flamed. " I am am- 
 bitious enough, Eve, but it isn't to make money." 
 
 " He has some idea," the girl proclaimed reck- 
 lessly to the whole table, " of living as his ancestors 
 lived ; as if one could. He believes that people 
 should go back to plain manners and to strict 
 morals. His mission is to keep this mad world 
 sane." 
 
 A ripple of laughter greeted her scorn. Her own 
 laughter met it. The slim young man at the other 
 end of the table swung his eye-glasses from their 
 black ribbon negligently, but his eyes missed 
 nothing. 
 
 "It is my only grievance against you, Mrs. 
 Nancy," Eve told the little shining lady. "I love 
 you for everything else, but not for this." 
 
 " I am sorry, my dear. But Richard and I think 
 alike. So we are going to settle at Crossroads 
 and live happy ever after." 
 
 Anne Warfield, outwardly calm, felt the blood 
 racing in her veins. The old house at Crossroads 
 was just across the way from her little school. She 
 had walked in the garden every day, and now and 
 then she had taken the children there. They had 
 watched the squirrels getting ready for the winter, 
 and had fed the belated birds with crumbs from the 
 little lunch baskets. - And there had been the old 
 
 25
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 sun-dial to mark the hour when the recess ended, 
 and to warn them that work must begin. 
 
 She had a rapturous vision of what it might be to 
 have the old house open, and to see Nancy Brooks 
 and her son Richard coming in and out. 
 
 Later, however, alone in her dull room, stripped 
 of its holiday trappings, the vision faded. To 
 Nancy and Richard she would be just the school- 
 teacher across the way, as to-night she had been the 
 girl who waited on the table 1 
 
 There was music down-stairs. The whine of the 
 phonograph came up to her. 
 
 Peggy, knocking, brought an interesting bulletin. 
 
 " They are dancing," she said. " Let's sit on the 
 stairs and look." 
 
 From the top of the stairs they could see straight 
 into the long front room. The hall was dimly 
 lighted so that they were themselves free from ob- 
 servation. Philip Meade and Eve were dancing, and 
 the Dutton-Ames. Eve had on very high shoes with 
 very high heels. Her skirt was wide and flaring. 
 She dipped and swayed and floated, and the grace 
 of the man with whom she danced matched her own. 
 
 " Isn't it lovely," said Peggy's little voice, " isn't 
 it lovely, Anne ? " 
 
 It was lovely, lovely as a dream. It was a sort of 
 ecstasy of motion. It was youth and joy incarnate. 
 Anne had a wild moment of rebellion. Why must 
 she sit always at the head of the stairs ? 
 
 26
 
 A PRINCESS SERVING 
 
 The music stopped. Eve and Philip became one 
 of the circle around the fireplace in the front room. 
 Again Eve's roses and Winifred's cloak gave color 
 to the group. There was also the leaping golden 
 flame of the fire, and, in the background, a slight 
 blue haze where some of the Old Gentlemen smoked. 
 
 The young man with the eye-glasses was telling 
 a story. He told it well, and there was much 
 laughter when he finished. When the music began 
 again, he danced with Winifred Ames. Button 
 Ames watched them, smiling. He always smiled 
 when his eyes rested on his lovely wife. 
 
 Evelyn danced with Richard. He did not dance as 
 well as Philip, but he gave the effect of doing it 
 easily. He swung her finally out into the hall. The 
 whine of the phonograph ceased. Richard and Eve 
 sat down on a lower step of the stairway. 
 
 The girl's voice came up to the quiet watchers 
 clearly. "When are you coming to New York to 
 dance with me again, Dicky Boy?" 
 
 " You must come down here. Pip will bring you 
 in his car for the week-ends, with the Dutton-Ames. 
 And I'll get a music box and a lot of new records. 
 The old dining-room has a wonderful floor." 
 
 " I hate your wonderful floor and your horrid old 
 house. And when I think of Fifth Avenue and the 
 lights and the theaters and you away from it 
 all " 
 
 " Poor young doctors have no right to the lights 
 
 27
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 and all the rest of it. Eve, don't let's quarrel at thft 
 last moment. You'll be reconciled to it all some 
 day." 
 
 " I shall never be reconciled." 
 
 And now Philip Meade was claiming her. " You 
 promised me this, Eve." 
 
 " I shall have all the rest of the winter for you, 
 Pip." 
 
 " As if that made any difference 1 I never put off 
 till to-morrow the things I want to do to-day. And 
 as for Richard, he'll come running back to us before 
 the winter is over." 
 
 Richard shrugged. "You're a pair of cheerful 
 prophets. Go and fox-trot with him, Eve." 
 
 Left alone, the eyes of the young doctor went at 
 once to the top of the stairs. 
 
 " Come down and dance," he said. 
 
 " Do you mean me ? " Peggy demanded out of the 
 dimness. 
 
 " I mean both of you." 
 
 " I can't dance not the new dances." Anne was 
 conscious of an overwhelming shyness. "Take 
 Peggy." 
 
 " How did you know we were up here ? " Peggy 
 asked. 
 
 " Well, I heard a little laugh, and a little whisper, 
 and I looked up and saw a little girl." 
 
 " Oh, oh, did you really ? " 
 
 " Really." 
 
 28
 
 A PRINCESS SERVING 
 
 " Well, I can't dance. But I can try." 
 
 So they tried, with Richard lifting the child lightly 
 to the lilting tune. 
 
 When he brought her back, he sat down beside 
 Anne. Shyness still chained her, but he chatted eas- 
 ily. Anne could not have told why she was shy. In 
 the stable she had felt at her ease with him. But 
 then she had not seen Eve or Winifred. It was the 
 women who had seemed to make the difference. 
 
 Presently, however, he had her telling of her 
 school. " It begins again to-morrow." 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 " Teaching ? No. But I love the children." 
 
 " Do you teach Peggy ? " 
 
 " Yes. She is too young, really, but she insists 
 upon going." 
 
 " There used to be a schoolhouse across the road 
 from my grandfather's. A red brick school with a 
 bell on top." 
 
 " There is still a bell. I always ring it myself, al- 
 though the boys beg to do it. But I like to think of 
 myself as the bell ringer." 
 
 It was while they sat there that Eric Brand came 
 in through the kitchen-way to the hall. He stood 
 for a moment looking into the lighted front room 
 where Eve still danced with Philip Meade, and where 
 the young man with the eye-glasses talked with the 
 Dutton-Ames. Anne instinctively kept silent. It 
 was Peggy who revealed their hiding place to him. 
 
 29
 
 MISTRESS JNNE 
 
 "Oh, Eric," she piped, "are you back?" She 
 went flying down the stairs to him. 
 
 He caught her, and holding her in his arms, peered 
 up. " Who's there ? " 
 
 Peggy answered. " It's Anne and the new doctor. 
 I danced with him, and he came on the train with 
 those other people in there and he has a dog named 
 Toby it's in the kitchen." 
 
 " So that's his dog ? It will have to go to the 
 kennels for the night" 
 
 Richard, descending, apologized. " I shouldn't 
 have let Toby stay in the house, but Miss Bower put 
 in a plea for him." 
 
 " Beulah ? " 
 
 " He means Anne," Peggy explained. " Her name 
 is Warfield. It's funny you didn't know." 
 
 " How could I ? " Richard had a feeling that he 
 owed the little goddess-girl an explanation of his 
 stupidity. He found himself again ascending the 
 stairs. 
 
 But Anne had fled. Overwhelmingly she realized 
 that Richard had believed her to be the daughter of 
 Peter Bower. Daughter of that crude and com- 
 mon man 1 Sister of Beulah 1 Friend of Eric 
 Brand 1 
 
 Well, she had brought it on herself. She had 
 looked after the dogs and she had waited on the 
 table. People thought differently of these things. 
 The ideals she had tried to teach her children were 
 
 30
 
 A PRINCESS SERVING 
 
 not the ideals of the larger world. Labor did not 
 dignify itself. The motto of kings was meaningless ! 
 A princess serving was no longer a princess 1 
 
 Sitting very tense and still in the little rocking- 
 chair in her own room, she decided that of course 
 Richard looked down on her. He had perceived in 
 her no common ground of birth or of breeding. Yet 
 her grandfather had been the friend of the grand- 
 father of Richard Brooks 1 
 
 When Peggy came up, she announced that she 
 was to sleep with Anne. It was an arrangement often 
 made when the house was full. To-night Anne wel- 
 comed the cheery presence of the child. She sang 
 her to sleep, and then sat for a long time by the lit- 
 tle round stove with Peggy in her arms. 
 
 She laid her down as a knock sounded on her 
 door. 
 
 " Are you up ? " some one asked, and she opened 
 it, to find Evelyn Chesley. 
 
 "May I borrow a needle?" She showed a torn 
 length of lace-trimmed flounce. " I caught it on 
 a rocker in my room. There shouldn't be any 
 rocker." 
 
 " Mrs. Bower loves them," Anne said, as she hunted 
 through her little basket ; " she loves to rock and 
 rock. All the women around here do." 
 
 " Then you're not one of them ? " 
 
 " No. My grandmother was Cynthia Warfield of 
 Carroll."
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 The name meant nothing to Evelyn. It would 
 have meant much to Nancy Brooks. 
 
 "How did you happen to come here? I don't see 
 how any one could choose to come." 
 
 " My mother died and there was no one but my 
 Great-uncle Rodman Warfield. I had to get some- 
 thing to do so I came here, and Uncle Rod went 
 to live with a married cousin." 
 
 Evelyn had perched herself on the post of Anne's 
 bed and was mending the flounce. Although she 
 was not near the lamp, she gave an effect of gather- 
 ing to her all the light of the room. She was wrapped 
 in a robe of rose-color, a strange garment with fur 
 to set it off, and of enormous fullness. It spread 
 about her and billowed out until it almost hid the 
 little bed and the child upon it. 
 
 Beside her, Anne in her blue serge felt clumsy and 
 common She knew that she ought not to feel that 
 way, but she did. She would have told her scholars 
 that it was not clothes that made the man, or dress 
 the woman. But then she told her scholars many 
 things that were right and good. She tried herself 
 to be as right and good as her theories. But it was 
 not always possible. It was not possible at this 
 moment. 
 
 "What brought you here?" Eve persisted. 
 
 " I teach school. I came in September." 
 
 " What do you teach ? " 
 
 " Everything. We are not graded." 
 
 32
 
 A PRINCESS SERVING 
 
 " I hope you teach them to be honest with them- 
 selves." 
 
 "I am not sure that I know what you mean ? " 
 
 " Don't let them pretend to be something that 
 they are not. That's why so many people fail. 
 They reach too high, and fall. That's what Nancy 
 Brooks is doing to Richard. She is making him 
 reach too high." 
 
 She laughed as she bent above her needle. "I 
 fancy you are not interested in that. But I can't 
 think of anything but the waste of it. I hope you 
 will all be so healthy that you won't need him, and 
 then he will have to come back to New York." 
 
 " I don't see how anybody could leave New York. 
 Not to come down here." Anne drew a quick breath. 
 
 Eve spoke carelessly : " Oh, well, I suppose it 
 isn't so bad here for a woman, but for a man a 
 man needs big spaces. Richard will be cramped 
 he'll shrink to the measure of all this narrowness." 
 She had finished her flounce, and she rose and gave 
 Anne the needle. " In the morning, if the weather is 
 good, we are to ride to Crossroads. Is your school 
 very far away ? " 
 
 "It is opposite Crossroads. Mrs. Brooks' father 
 built it." 
 
 Anne spoke stiffly. She had felt the sting of Eve's 
 indifference, and she was furious with herself for her 
 consciousness of Eve's clothes, of her rings of the 
 gold comb in her hair. 
 
 33
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 When her visitor had gone, Anne took down her 
 own hair, and flung it up into a soft knot on the top 
 of her head. Swept back thus, her face seemed to 
 bloom into sudden beauty. She slipped the blue 
 dress from her shoulders and saw the long slim line 
 of her neck and the whiteness of her skin. 
 
 The fire had died down in the little round stove. 
 The room was cold. She thought of Eve's rose- 
 color, and of the warmth of her furs. 
 
 Bravely, however, she hummed the tune to which 
 the others had danced. She lifted her feet in time. 
 Her shoes were heavy, and she took them off. She 
 tried to get the rhythm, the lightness, the grace of 
 movement. But these things must be taught, and 
 she had no one to teach her. 
 
 When at last she crept into bed beside the sleep- 
 ing Peggy, she was chilled to the bone, and she was 
 crying. 
 
 Peggy stirred and murmured. 
 
 Soothing the child, Anne told herself fiercely that 
 she was a goose to be upset because Eve Chesley 
 had rings and wore rose-color. Why, she was no 
 better than Diogenes, who had fumed and fussed 
 because Toby had taken his straw in the stable. 
 
 But her philosophy failed to bring peace of mind. 
 For a long time she lay awake, working it out. At 
 last she decided, wearily, that she had wept because 
 she really didn't know any of the worth-while things. 
 She didn't know any of the young things and the 
 
 34
 
 A PRINCESS SERVING 
 
 gay things. She didn't know how to dance or 
 to talk to men like Richard Brooks. The only 
 things that she knew in the whole wide world were 
 books 1 
 
 35
 
 CHAPTER III 
 In Which the Crown Prince Enters Upon His Own. 
 
 IT developed that the name of the young man with 
 the eye-glasses was Geoffrey Fox. Mrs. Bower 
 told Anne at the breakfast table, as the two women 
 sat alone. 
 
 " He is writing a book, and he wants to stay." 
 
 " The little dark man ? " 
 
 " I shouldn't call him little. He is thin, but he is 
 as tall as Richard Brooks." 
 
 " Is he ? " To Anne it had seemed as if Richard 
 had towered above her like a young giant. She had 
 scarcely noticed the young man with the eye-glasses. 
 He had melted into the background of old gentle- 
 men ; had become, as it were, a part of a composite 
 instead of a single personality. 
 
 But to be writing a book ! 
 
 " What kind of a book, Mrs. Bower?" 
 
 " I don't know. He didn't say. I am going to 
 give him the front room in the south wing ; then he 
 will have a view of the river." 
 
 When Anne met the dark young man in the hall 
 an hour later, she discovered that he had keen eyes 
 and a mocking smile. 
 
 36
 
 THE CROWN PRINCE 
 
 He stopped her. "Do we have to be introduced ? 
 I am going to stay here. Did Mrs. Bower tell 
 you ? " 
 
 " She told me you were writing a book." 
 
 " Don't tell anybody else ; I'm not proud of it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 He shrugged. " My stories are pot-boilers, most 
 of them with everybody happy in the end." 
 
 " Why shouldn't everybody be happy in the end ? " 
 
 " Because life isn't that way." 
 
 " Life is what we make it." 
 
 " Who told you that ? " 
 
 She flushed. " It is what I tell my school chil- 
 dren." 
 
 " But have you found it so ? " 
 
 She faltered. " No but perhaps it is my fault." 
 
 " It isn't anybody's fault. If the gods smile we 
 are happy. If they frown, we are miserable. That's 
 all there is to it." 
 
 " I should hate to think that was all." She was 
 roused and ready to fight for her ideals. " I should 
 hate to think it." 
 
 "All your hating won't make it as you want it," 
 his glance was quizzical, " but we won't quarrel 
 about it." 
 
 " Of course not," stiffly. 
 
 " And we are to be friends? You see I am to stay 
 a month." 
 
 " Are you going to write about us ? " 
 
 37
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " I shall write about the Old Gentlemen. Is there 
 always such a crowd of them ? " 
 
 " Only on holidays and week-ends." 
 
 " Perhaps I shall write about you " daringly. 
 
 " I need a little lovely heroine." 
 
 Her look stopped him. His face changed. " I 
 beg your pardon," he said quickly. " I should not 
 have said that." 
 
 " Would you have said it if I had not waited on 
 the table ? " Her voice was tremulous. The color 
 that had flamed in her cheeks still dyed them. " I 
 thought of it last night, after I went up-stairs. I 
 have been trying to teach my little children in my 
 school that there is dignity in service, and so I 
 have helped Mrs. Bower. But I felt that people did 
 not understand." 
 
 " You felt that we thought less of you ? " 
 
 " Yes," very low. 
 
 " And that I spoke as I did because I did not 
 respect you ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then I beg your pardon. Indeed, I do beg your 
 pardon. It was thoughtless. Will you believe that 
 it was only because I was thoughtless?" 
 
 " Yes." But her troubled eyes did not meet his. 
 " Perhaps I am too sensitive. Perhaps you would 
 have said the same things to Eve Chesley if you 
 had just met her. But I am sure you would not have 
 said it in the same tone." 
 
 38
 
 THE CROWN PRINCE 
 
 He held out his hand to her. " You'll forgive me ? 
 Yes ? And be friends ? " 
 
 She did not seem to see his hand. " Of course I 
 forgive you," she said, with a girlish dignity which 
 sat well upon her, " and perhaps I have made too 
 much of it, but you see I am so much alone, and I 
 think so much." 
 
 He wanted to ask her questions, of why she was 
 there and of why she was alone. But something in 
 her manner forbade, and so they spoke of other 
 things until she left him. 
 
 Geoffrey went out later for a walk in the blinding 
 snow. All night it had snowed and the storm had 
 a blizzard quality, with the wind howling and the 
 drifts piling to prodigious heights. Geoffrey faced 
 the elements with a strength which won the respect 
 of Richard Brooks who, also out in it, with his 
 dog Toby, was battling gloriously with wind and 
 weather. 
 
 " If we can reach the shelter of the pines," he 
 shouted, " they'll break the force of the storm." 
 
 Within the wood the snow was in winding sheets 
 about the great trees. 
 
 " What giant ghosts I " Geoffrey said. " Yet in a 
 month or two the sap will run warm in their veins, 
 and the silence will be lapped by waves of sound 
 the singing of birds and of little streams." 
 
 " I used to come here when I was a boy," Richard 
 told him. " There were violets under the bank, and 
 
 39
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 I picked them and made tight bunches of them and 
 gave them to my mother. She was young then. I 
 remember that she usually wore white dresses, with 
 a blue sash fluttering." 
 
 " You lived here then ? " 
 
 " No, we visited at my grandfather's, a mile or 
 two away. He used to drive us down, and he 
 would sit out there on the point and fish, a grand 
 old figure, in his broad hat, with his fishing creel 
 over his shoulder. There were just two sports that 
 my grandfather loved, fishing and fox-hunting ; but 
 he was a very busy doctor and couldn't ride often 
 to hounds. But he kept a lot of them. He would 
 have had a great contempt for Toby. His own dogs 
 were a wiry little breed." 
 
 " My grandfather was blind, and always in his 
 library. So my boyhood was different. I used to 
 read to him. I liked it, and I wouldn't exchange 
 my memories for yours, except the violets I should 
 like to pick them here in the spring perhaps I shall 
 I told Mrs. Bower I would take a room for a 
 month or more and since we have spoken of vio- 
 lets I may wait for their blooming." 
 
 He laughed, and as they turned back, "I have 
 found several things to keep me," he said, but he 
 did not name them. 
 
 All day Anne was aware of the presence in the 
 house of the young guests. She was aware of Wini- 
 fred Ames' blue cloak and of Eve's roses. She was 
 
 40
 
 THE CROWN PRINCE 
 
 aware of Richard's big voice booming through the 
 hall, of Geoffrey's mocking laugh. 
 
 But she did not go down among them. She ate 
 her meals after the others had finished. She did not 
 wait upon the table and she did not sit upon the 
 stairs. In the afternoon she wrote a long letter to 
 her Great-uncle Rodman, and she went early to bed. 
 
 She was waked in the morning by the bustle of 
 departure. Some of the Old Gentlemen went back 
 by motor, others by train. Warmed by a hearty 
 breakfast, bundled into their big coats, they were 
 lighted on their way by Eric Brand. 
 
 It was just as the sun flashed over the horizon and 
 showed the whiteness of a day swept clear by the 
 winds of the night that the train for the north car- 
 ried off the Dutton-Ames, Philip and Eve. 
 
 Evelyn went protesting. " Some day you are go- 
 ing to regret it, Richard." 
 
 " Don't croak. Wish me good luck, Eve." 
 
 But she would not. Yet when she stood at last 
 on the train steps to say " Good-bye," she had in 
 her hand one of the roses he had given her and 
 which she had worn. She touched it lightly to her 
 lips and tossed it to him. 
 
 By the time he had picked it up the train was on 
 its way, and Evelyn, looking back, had her last 
 glimpse of him standing straight and tall against 
 the morning sky, the rose in his hand. 
 
 It was eight o'clock when Eric drove Anne and
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Peggy through the drifts to the Crossroads school. 
 It was nine when Geoffrey Fox came down to a late 
 breakfast. It was ten when Richard and his mother 
 and the dog Toby in a hired conveyance arrived at 
 the place which had once been Nancy's home. 
 
 Imposing, even in its shabbiness, stood the old 
 house, at the end of an avenue of spired cedars. 
 
 As they opened the door a grateful warmth met 
 them. 
 
 " David has been here," Nancy said. " Oh, 
 Richard, Richard, what a glorious day to begin." 
 
 And now there came from among the shadows a 
 sound which made them stop and listen. "Tick, 
 tock," said the great hall clock. 
 
 "Mother, who wound it?" 
 
 Nancy Brooks laughed tremulously. " Cousin 
 David had the key. In all these years he has never 
 let the old clock run down. It seemed queer to 
 think of it ticking away in this empty house." 
 
 There were tears in her eyes. He stooped and 
 kissed her. "And now that you are here, you are 
 going to be happy ? " 
 
 " Very happy, dear boy." 
 
 It was nearly twelve when David Tyson came 
 limping up the path. He had a basket in one hand, 
 and a cane in the other. Behind him trotted a 
 weedy-looking foxhound. The dog Toby, charging 
 out of the door as Nancy opened it, fell, as it were, 
 upon the neck of the hound. His overtures of 
 
 42
 
 THE CROWN PRINCE 
 
 friendship were met with a dignified aloofness which 
 merged gradually into a reluctant cordiality. 
 
 Nancy held out both hands to the old man. " I 
 saw you coming. Oh, how good it seems to be 
 here again, Cousin David." 
 
 " Let me look at you." He set the basket down, 
 and took her hands in his. Then he shook his 
 head. "New York has done things to you," he 
 said. " It has given you a few gray hairs. But 
 now that you are back again I shall try to for- 
 give it." 
 
 " I shall never forgive it," she said, " for what it 
 has done to me and mine." 
 
 " But you are here, and you have brought your 
 boy ; that's a thing to be thankful for, Nancy." 
 
 They were silent in the face of overwhelming 
 memories. The only sound in the shadowy hall was 
 the ticking of the old clock the old clock which 
 had tick-tocked in all the years of loneliness with no 
 one to listen. 
 
 Richard greeted him with heartiness. " This looks 
 pretty good to me, Cousin David." 
 
 " It's God's country, Richard. Brin hates it. He 
 loves his club and the city streets. But for me there's 
 nothing worth while but this sweep of the hills and 
 the river between." 
 
 He uncovered his basket. "Tom put up some 
 things for you. I've engaged Milly, a mulatto girl, 
 but she can't get here until to-morrow. She is 
 
 43
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 about the best there is left. Most of them go to 
 town. She'll probably seem pretty crude after New 
 York servants, Nancy." 
 
 " I don't care." Nancy almost sang the words. 
 11 1 don't care what I have to put up with, Cousin 
 David. I shall sleep to-night under my own roof 
 with nothing between me and the stars. And there 
 won't be anybody overhead or underneath, and there 
 won't be a pianola to the right of me, and a phono- 
 graph to the left, and there won't be the rumble of 
 the subway or the crash of the elevated, and in the 
 morning I shall open my eyes and see the sun rise 
 over the river, and I shall look out upon the world 
 that I love and have loved all of these years " 
 
 And now she was crying, and Richard had her in 
 his arms. Over her head he looked at the older 
 man. " I didn't dream that she felt like this." 
 
 " I knew as soon as I saw her. You must never 
 take her back, Richard." 
 
 41 Of course not," hotly. 
 
 Yet with the perverseness of youth he was aware, 
 as he said it, of a sudden sense of revolt against the 
 prospect of a future spent in this quiet place. Flash- 
 ing came a vision of the city he had left, of crowded 
 hospitals, of big men consulting with big men, of old 
 men imparting their secrets of healing to the young ; 
 of limousines speeding luxuriously on errands of 
 mercy ; of patients pouring out their wealth to the 
 men who had made them well. 
 
 44
 
 THE CROWN PRINCE 
 
 All this he had given up because his mother had 
 asked it. She had spoken of the place which his 
 grandfather had rilled, of the dignity of a country 
 practice, of the opportunities for research and for 
 experiment. At close range, the big town set be- 
 tween its rivers and the sea had seemed noisy and 
 vulgar. Its people had seemed mad in their race for 
 money. Its medical men had seemed to lack the 
 fineness and finish which come to those who move 
 and meditate in quiet places. 
 
 But seen from afar as he saw it now, it seemed a 
 wonder city, its tall buildings outlined like gigantic 
 castles against the sky. It seemed filled to the brim 
 with vivid life. It seemed, indeed, to call him back ! 
 
 While David and Nancy talked he went out, and, 
 from the top of the snowy steps, surveyed his 
 domain. Back and back in the wide stretch of 
 country which faced him, beyond the valleys, on the 
 other side of the hills, were people who would some 
 day listen for the step of young Richard as those 
 who had gone before had listened for the step of his 
 grandfather. He saw himself going forth on stormy 
 nights to fight pain and pestilence ; to minister to 
 little children, to patient mothers ; to men beaten 
 down by an enemy before whom their strength was 
 as wax. They would wait for him, anxious for his 
 verdict, yet fearing it, welcoming him as a saviour, 
 who would stand with flaming sword between dis- 
 ease and the Dark Angel. 
 
 45
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 The schoolhouse was on the other side of the road. 
 It was built of brick like the house. Richard's grand- 
 father had paid for the brick. He had believed in 
 public schools and had made this one possible. 
 Children came to it from all the countryside. There 
 were other schools in the sleepy town. This was 
 the Crossroads school, as Richard Tyson had been 
 the Crossroads doctor. He had given himself to a 
 rural community his journeys had been long and 
 his life hard, but he had loved the labor. 
 
 The bell rang for the noon recess. The children 
 appeared presently, trudging homeward through 
 the snow to their midday dinners. Then Anne War- 
 field came out. She wore a heavy brown coat and 
 soft brown hat. In her hand was a small earthen 
 dish. She strewed seeds for the birds, and they flew 
 down in front of her juncoes and sparrows, a tufted 
 titmouse, a cardinal blood-red against the whiteness. 
 She was like a bird herself in all her brown. 
 
 When the dish was empty, she turned it upside 
 down, and spread her hands to show that there was 
 nothing more. On the Saturday night when she 
 had waited on the table, Richard had noticed the 
 loveliness of her hands. They were small and white, 
 and without rings. Yet in spite of their smallness 
 and whiteness, he knew that they were useful hands, 
 for she had served well at Bower's. And now he 
 knew that they were kindly hands, for she had fed 
 the birds who had come begging to her door. 
 
 46
 
 THE CROWN PRINCE 
 
 Peggy joined her, and the two came out the gate 
 together. Anne looking across saw Richard. She 
 hesitated, then crossed the road. 
 
 He at once went to meet her. She flushed a little 
 as she spoke to him. " Peggy and I want to ask a 
 favor. We've always had our little Twelfth Night 
 play in the Crossroads stable. And we had planned 
 for it this year you see, we didn't know that you 
 were coming." 
 
 " And we were afraid that you wouldn't want us," 
 Peggy told him. 
 
 " Were you really afraid ? " 
 
 " I wasn't. But Miss Anne was." 
 
 " I told the children that they mustn't be disap- 
 pointed if we were not able to do this year as we had 
 done before. I felt that with people in the house, it 
 might not be pleasant for them to have us coming in 
 such a crowd." 
 
 " It will be pleasant, and mother will be much in- 
 terested. I wish you'd come up and tell us about it." 
 
 She shook her head. " Peggy and I have just 
 time to get back to Bower's for our dinner." 
 
 " Aren't the roads bad ? " 
 
 " Not when the snow is hard." 
 
 Peggy went reluctantly. " I think he is perfectly 
 lovely," she said, at a safe distance. " Don't you ? " 
 
 Anne's reply was guarded. " He is very kind. I 
 am glad that he doesn't mind about the Twelfth 
 Night play, Peggy." 
 
 47
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Richard spoke to David of Anne as the two men, a 
 few minutes later, climbed the hill toward David's 
 house. 
 
 " She seems unusual." 
 
 " She is the best teacher we have ever had, but 
 she ought not to be at Bower's. She isn't their 
 kind." 
 
 David's little house, set on top of a hill, was small 
 and shabby without, but within it was as compact as 
 a ship's cabin. David's old servant, Tom, kept it 
 immaculate, and there were books everywhere, old 
 portraits, precious bits of mahogany. 
 
 From the window beside the fireplace there was 
 a view of the river. It was a blue river to-day, 
 sparkling in the sunshine. David, standing beside 
 Richard, spoke of it. 
 
 " It isn't always blue, but it is always beautiful. 
 Even when the snow flies as it did yesterday." 
 
 " And are you content with this, Cousin David ? " 
 
 The answer was evasive. " I have my little law 
 practice, and my books. And is any one ever con- 
 tent, Richard?" 
 
 Going down the hill, Richard pondered. Was 
 Eve right after all ? Did a man who turned his face 
 away from the rush of cities really lack red blood ? 
 
 Stopping at the schoolhouse, he found teacher 
 and scholars still gone. But the door was unlocked 
 and he went in. The low-ceiled room was charm- 
 ing, and the good taste of the teacher was evident in 
 
 48
 
 THE CROWN PRINCE 
 
 its decorations. There were branches of pine and 
 cedar on the walls, a picture of Washington at one 
 end with a flag draped over it, a pot of primroses in 
 the south window. 
 
 There were several books on Anne's desk. Some- 
 what curiously he examined the titles. A shabby 
 Browning, a modern poet or two, Chesterton, a 
 volume of Pepys, the pile topped by a small black 
 Bible. Moved by a sudden impulse, he opened the 
 Bible. The leaves fell back at a marked passage : 
 
 "Let not your heart be troubled" 
 
 He shut the book sharply. It was as if he had 
 peered into the girl's soul. The red was in his 
 cheeks as he turned away. 
 
 That night Nancy Brooks went with Richard to 
 his room. On the threshold she stopped. 
 
 " I have given this room to you," she said, 
 " because it was mine when I was a girl, and all my 
 dreams have been shut in waiting for you." 
 
 "Mother," he caught her hands in his, "you 
 mustn't dream too much for me." 
 
 " Let me dream to-night ; " she was looking up at 
 him with her shining eyes ; " to-morrow I shall be 
 just a commonplace mother of a commonplace son ; 
 but to-night I am queen, and you are the crown 
 prince on the eve of coronation. Oh, Hickory 
 Dickory, I am such a happy mother." 
 
 Hickory Dickory ! It was her child-name for him. 
 
 49
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 She had not often used it of late. He felt that she 
 would not often use it again. He was much moved 
 by her dedication of him to his new life. He held 
 her close. His doubts fled. He thought no more 
 of Eve and of her flaming arguments. Somewhere 
 out in the snow her rose lay frozen and faded where 
 he had dropped it. 
 
 And when he slept and dreamed it was of a little 
 brown bird which sang in the snow, and the song 
 that it sang seemed to leap from the pages of a Book, 
 " Let not your heart be troubled ', neither let it be 
 afraid"
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 In Which Three Kings Come to Crossroads. 
 
 ANNE'S budget of news to her Great-uncle Rod 
 swelled to unusual proportions in the week fol- 
 lowing the opening of Crossroads. She had so much 
 to say to him, and there was no one else to whom 
 she could speak with such freedom and frankness. 
 
 By the Round Stove. 
 MY DEAR : 
 
 I am sending this as an antidote for my dole- 
 ful Sunday screed. Now that the Lovely Ladies are 
 gone, I am myself again ! 
 
 I know that you are saying, " You should never 
 have been anything but yourself." That's all very 
 well for you who know Me-Myself, but these people 
 know only the Outside-Person part of me, and the 
 Outside-Person part is stiff and old-fashioned, and 
 self-conscious. You see it has been so many months 
 since I have hobnobbed with Lities-of-the-Field and 
 with Solomons-in-all-their-Glory. And even when I 
 did hobnob with them it was for such a little time, 
 and it ended so heart-breakingly. But I am not
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 going to talk of that, or I shall weep and wail again, 
 and that wouldn't be fair to you. 
 
 The last Old Gentleman left yesterday in the wake 
 of the Lovely Ladies. Did I tell you that Brinsley 
 Tyson is a cousin of Mrs. Brooks ? His twin 
 brother, David, lives up the road. Brinsley is the 
 city mouse and David is the country one. They are 
 as different as you can possibly imagine. Brinsley 
 is fat and round and red, and David is thin and tall 
 and pale. Yet there is the "twin look" in their 
 faces. The high noses and square chins. Neither 
 of them wears a beard. None of the Old Gentlemen 
 does. Why is it ? Is hoary-headed age a thing of 
 the dark and distant past? Are you the only one 
 left whose silver banner blows in the breeze? Are 
 the grandfathers all trying to look like boys to 
 match the grandmothers who try to look like girls ? 
 
 Mrs. Brooks won't be that kind of grandmother. 
 She is gentle and serene, and the years will touch 
 her softly. I shall like her if she will let me. But 
 perhaps little school-teachers won't come within her 
 line of vision. You see I learned my lesson in those 
 short months when I peeped into Paradise. 
 
 I wonder how it would seem to be a Lily-of-the- 
 Field. I've never been one, have I ? Even when I 
 was a little girl I used to stand on a chair to wipe 
 the dishes while you washed them. I felt very im- 
 portant to be helping mother, and you would talk 
 about the dignity of labor you darling^ with the hot 
 
 52
 
 THREE KINGS 
 
 water wrinkling and reddening your lovely long 
 fingers, which were made to paint masterpieces. 
 
 I am trying to pass on to my school children what 
 you have given to me, and oh, Uncle Rod, when I 
 speak to them I seem to be looking with you, straight 
 through the kitchen window, at the sunset. We 
 never knew that the kitchen sink was there, did we ? 
 We saw only the sunsets. And now because you 
 are a darling dear, and because you are always see- 
 ing sunsets, I am sending you a verse or two which 
 I have copied from a book which Geoffrey Fox left 
 last night at my door. 
 
 " When Salomon sailed from Ophir, 
 
 With Olliphants and gold, 
 The kings went up, the kings went down, 
 Trying to match King Salomon's crown; 
 
 But Salomon sacked the sunset, 
 Wherever his black ships rolled. 
 He rolled it up like a crimson cloth, 
 And crammed it into his hold. 
 
 CHORUS : " Salomon sacked the sunset, 
 Salomon sacked the sunset, 
 He rolled it up like a crimson cloth, 
 And crammed it into his hold. 
 
 " His masts were Lebanon cedars, 
 
 His sheets were singiwg blue, 
 But that was never the reason why 
 He stuffed his hold with the sunset sky ! 
 
 The kings could cut their cedars, 
 And sail from Ophir, too ; 
 But Salomon packed his heart with dreams, 
 And all the dreams were true." 
 
 53
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Now join in the chorus, you old dear and I'll 
 think that I am a little girl again 
 
 " The kings could cut their cedars, 
 Cut their Lebanon cedars; 
 But Salomon packed his heart with dreams, 
 And all 
 
 the dreams 
 
 were true /" 
 
 In the Schoolroom. 
 
 I told you that Geoffrey Fox left a book for me to 
 read. I told you that he wore eye-glasses on a black 
 ribbon, that he is writing a novel, and that I don't 
 like him. Well, he went into Baltimore this morn- 
 ing to get his belongings, and when he comes back 
 he will stay until his book is finished. It will be in- 
 teresting to be under the same roof with a story. All 
 the shadows and corners will seem full of it. The 
 house will speak to him, and the people in it, though 
 none of the rest of us will hear the voices, and the 
 wind will speak and the leaping flames in the fire- 
 place, and the sun and the moon and when the 
 snow comes it will whisper secrets in his ear and 
 presently it will be snowing all through the pages. 
 
 It snowed this morning, and from my desk I can 
 see young Dr. Brooks shoveling a path from his 
 front porch. He and his mother came to Crossroads 
 yesterday, and they have been very busy getting 
 settled. They have a colored maid, Milly, but no 
 
 54
 
 THREE KINGS 
 
 man, and young Richard does all of the outside 
 work. I think I shall like him. Don't you re- 
 member how as a little girl I always adored the 
 Lion-hearted king? I always think of him when I 
 see Dr. Brooks. He isn't handsome, but he is broad- 
 shouldered and big and blond. I haven't had but 
 one chance to speak to him since he and his mother 
 left Bower's. Perhaps I shan't have many chances 
 to speak to him. But a cat may look at a king 1 
 
 I am all alone in the schoolroom. The children 
 went an hour ago. Eric and Beulah are to call for 
 me on their way home from town. They took 
 Peggy with them. Did I tell you that Eric is fall- 
 ing in love with Beulah ? I am not sure whether it 
 is the best thing for him, but I am sure it is for her. 
 She is very happy, and blushes when he looks at her. 
 He is finer than she, and bigger, mentally and spir- 
 itually. He is crude, but he will grow as so many 
 American men do grow and there are dreams in 
 his clear blue eyes. And, after all, it is the dreams 
 that count as Salomon discovered. 
 
 Yet it may be that Eric will bring Beulah up to 
 his level. She is an honest little thing and good and 
 loving. Her life is narrow, and she thinks narrow 
 thoughts. But he is wise and kind, and already I 
 can see that she is trying to keep step with him 
 which is as it should be. 
 
 I like to think that father and mother kept step 
 through all the years. She was his equal, his com- 
 
 55
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 rade; she marched by his side with her head up, 
 fitting her two short steps to his long stride. 
 
 King Richard has just waved to me. I stood up 
 to see the sunset a band of gold with black above, 
 and he waved, and started to run across the road. 
 Then somebody called him from the house. Per- 
 haps it was the telephone and his first patient. If 
 I am ever ill, I should like to have a Lion-hearted 
 Doctor wouldn't you ? 
 
 At the Sign of the Lantern. 
 
 I am with Diogenes in the stable, with the lantern 
 making deep shadows, and the loft steps for a desk. 
 Eric and Beulah came for me before I had asked a 
 question an important question so I am finishing 
 my letter here, while Eric puts Daisy in her stall, 
 and then he will post it for me. 
 
 Diogenes has had his corn, and is as happy as 
 Brinsley Tyson after a good dinner. Oh, such eat- 
 ing and drinking! How these old men love it! 
 And you with your bread and milk and your book 
 propped up against the lamp, or your handful of 
 raisins and your book under a tree ! 
 
 But I must scribble fast and ask my question. It 
 isn't easy to ask. So I'll put it in sections: 
 Do you 
 
 ever 
 
 see 
 
 Jimmie Ford ? 
 56
 
 THREE KINGS 
 
 That is the first time that I have written his name 
 since I came here. I had made up my mind that I 
 wouldn't write it. But somehow the rose-colored 
 atmosphere of the other night, and these men of his 
 kind have brought it back all those whirling weeks 
 when you warned me and I wouldn't listen. Uncle 
 Rod, if a woman hadn't an ounce of pride she might 
 meet such things. If I had not had a grandmother 
 as good as Jimmie's and better I might have felt 
 less stricken. Geoffrey Fox spoke to me on Satur- 
 day in a way which hurt. Perhaps I am too sensi- 
 tive but I haven't quite learned to hold up my 
 head. 
 
 You mustn't think that I am unhappy. Indeed, I 
 am not, except that I cannot be with you. But it is 
 good to know that you are comfortable, and that 
 Cousin Margaret is making it seem like home. 
 Some day we are to have a home, you and I, when 
 our ship comes in "with the sunset packed in the 
 hold." But now it is well that I have work to do. 
 I know that this is my opportunity, and that I must 
 make the most of it. There's that proverb of yours, 
 " The Lord sends us quail, but he doesn't send them 
 roasted." I have written it out, and have tucked it 
 into my mirror frame. I shall have to roast my own 
 quail. I only hope that I may prove a competent 
 cook! 
 
 Eric is here, and I must say " Good-bye." Di- 
 ogenes sends love, and a little feather that dropped 
 
 57
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 from his wing. Some day he will send a big one 
 for you to make a pen and write letters to me. I 
 love your letters, and I love you. And oh, you know 
 that you have all the heart's best of your own 
 
 ANNE. 
 
 The Morning After the Magi Came. 
 
 I am up early to tell you about it. But I must go 
 back a little because I have had so much else to talk 
 about that I haven't spoken of the Twelfth Night 
 play. 
 
 It seems that years ago, when old Dr. Brooks 
 first built the schoolhouse, the children used his 
 stable on Twelfth Night for a spectacle representing 
 the coming of the Wise Men. 
 
 Mr. David had told me of it, and I had planned to 
 revive the old custom this year, and had rehearsed 
 the children. I thought when I heard that the house 
 was to be occupied that I might have to give it 
 up. But Peggy and I plucked up our courage and 
 asked King Richard, and he graciously gave per- 
 mission. 
 
 It was a heavenly night. Snow on the ground 
 and all the stars out. The children met in the 
 schoolhouse and we started in a procession. They 
 all wore simple little costumes, just some bit of 
 bright color draped to give them a quaint pictur- 
 esqueness. One of the boys led a cow, and there 
 was an old ewe. Then riding on a donkey, bor- 
 
 58
 
 THREE KINGS 
 
 rowed by Mr. David, came the oldest Mary in our 
 school. I chose her because I wanted her to under- 
 stand the sacred significance of her name, and our 
 only little Joseph walked by her side. The children 
 followed and their parents, with the wise men quite 
 in the rear, so that they might enter after the 
 others. 
 
 When we reached the stable, I grouped Joseph 
 and Mary in one of the old mangers, where the Babe 
 lay, and he was a dear, real, baby brother of Mary. 
 I hid a light behind the straw, so that the place was 
 illumined. And then my little wise men came in ; 
 and the children, who with their parents were seated 
 on the hay back in the shadows, sang, " We Three 
 Kings " and other carols. The gifts which the Magi 
 brought were the children's own pennies which they 
 are giving to the other little children across the sea 
 who are fatherless because of the war. 
 
 It was quite wonderful to hear their sweet little 
 voices, and to see their rapt faces and to know that, 
 however sordid their lives might be, here was 
 Dream, founded on the Greatest Truth, which would 
 lift them above the sordidness. 
 
 Dr. Brooks and his mother and Mr. David were 
 not far from me, and Dr. Brooks leaned over and 
 asked if he might speak to the children. I said I 
 should be glad, so he stood up and told them in 
 such simple, fine fashion that he wanted to be to 
 them all that his grandfather had been to their par- 
 
 59
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 ents and grandparents. He wanted them to feel 
 that his life and service belonged to them. He 
 wanted them to know how pleased he was with the 
 Twelfth Night spectacle, and that he wanted it to 
 become an annual custom. 
 
 Then in his mother's name, he asked them to 
 come up to the house all of them and we were 
 shown into the Garden Room which opens out upon 
 what was once a terraced garden, and there was a 
 great cake with candles, and sandwiches, and 
 coffee for the grown-ups and hot chocolate for the 
 kiddies. 
 
 Wasn't that dear? I had little Francois thank 
 them, and he did it so well. Why is it that these 
 small foreigners lack the self-consciousness of our 
 own boys and girls ? He had been one of the wise 
 men in the spectacle, and he still wore his white 
 beard and turban and his long blue and red robes. 
 Yet he wasn't in the least fussed ; he simply made a 
 bow, said what he had to say, made another bow, 
 with never a blush or a quaver or giggle. His 
 mother was there, and she was so happy she is a 
 widow, and sews in the neighborhood, plain sewing, 
 and they are very poor. 
 
 I rode home with the Bowers, and as we drove 
 along, I heard the children singing. I am sure they 
 will never forget the night under the winter stars, 
 nor the scene in the stable with the cow and the 
 little donkey and the old ewe, and the Light that il- 
 
 60
 
 THREE KINGS 
 
 lumined the manger. I want them always to re- 
 member, Uncle Rod, and I want to remember. It 
 is only when I forget that I lose faith and hope. 
 Blessed dear, good-night. 
 
 YOUR ANNE. 
 
 6l
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 In Which Peggy Takes the Center of the Stage. 
 
 bell on the schoolhouse had a challenging 
 note. It seemed to call to the distant hills, 
 and the echo came back in answer. It was the voice 
 of civilization. " I am here that you may learn of 
 other hills and of other valleys, of men who have 
 dreamed and of men who have discovered, of na- 
 tions which have conquered and of nations which 
 have fallen into decay. I am here that you may 
 learn ding dong that you may learn, ding ding 
 that you may learn ding dong ding of Life." 
 
 As she rang the bell, Anne had always a feeling of 
 exhilaration. Its message was clear to her. She 
 hoped it would be clear to others. She tried at least 
 to make it clear to her children. 
 
 And now they came streaming over the country- 
 side, big boys with their little sisters beside them, 
 big girls with their little brothers. Some on sleds 
 and some sliding. All rosy-cheeked with the cold- 
 ness of the morning. 
 
 As they filed in, Anne stood behind her desk. 
 They had opening exercises, and then the work of 
 the day began, 
 
 62
 
 PEGGT TAKES THE STAGE 
 
 It began scrappily. Nobody had their minds 
 upon it. The children were much excited over the 
 events of the preceding night over the play and 
 the feast which had followed. 
 
 Anne, too, was excited. On the way to school she 
 had met Richard, and he had joined her and had 
 told her of his first patient. 
 
 " I had to walk at one o'clock in the morning. I 
 must get a horse or a car. I am not quite sure that 
 I ought to afford a car. And I like the idea of a 
 horse. My grandfather rode a horse." 
 
 " Are you going to do all the things that your 
 grandfather did ? " 
 
 He was aware of her quick smile. He smiled 
 back. 
 
 "Perhaps. I might do worse. He made great 
 cures with his calomel and his catnip tea." 
 
 " Did you cure your patient with catnip tea?" 
 
 "Last night? No. It was a child. Measles. I 
 told the rest of the family to stay away from school." 
 
 " It is probably too late. They will all have them." 
 
 "Have you?" 
 
 " No. I am never sick." 
 
 Her good health seemed to him another goddess 
 attribute. Goddesses were never ill. They lived 
 eternally with lovely smiles. 
 
 He felt this morning that the world was his. He 
 had been called up the night before by a man in 
 whose household there had been a tradition of the 
 
 63
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 skill of Richard's grandfather. There had been the 
 memory, too, in the minds of the older ones of the 
 days when that other doctor had thundered up the 
 road to succor and to save. It was a proud moment 
 in their lives when they gave to Richard Tyson's 
 grandson his first patient. They felt that Providence 
 in sending sickness upon them had imposed not a 
 penance but a privilege. 
 
 Richard had known of their pride and had been 
 touched by it, and with the glow of their gratitude 
 still upon him, he had trudged down the snowy road 
 and had met Anne Warfield ! 
 
 " You'd better let me come and look over your 
 pupils," he had said to her as they parted ; " we 
 don't want an epidemic ! " 
 
 He was to come at the noon recess. Anne, antici- 
 pating his visit, was quite thrillingly emphatic in her 
 history lesson. Not that history had anything to do 
 with measles, but she felt fired by his example to do 
 her best. 
 
 She loved to teach history, and she had a lesson 
 not only for her children, but for herself. She was 
 much ashamed of her mood of Sunday. It had been 
 easy enough this morning to talk to Richard ; and 
 with Evelyn away, clothes had seemed to sink to their 
 proper significance. And if she had waited on the 
 table she had at least done it well. 
 
 Her exposition gained emphasis, therefore, from 
 her state of mind. 
 
 64
 
 PEGGT TAKES THE STAGE 
 
 " In this beautiful land of ours," she said, " all 
 men are free and equal. You mustn't think this 
 means that all of you will have the same amount of 
 money or the same kind of clothes, or the same 
 things to eat, or even the same kind of minds. But 
 I think it means that you ought all to have the same 
 kind of consciences. You ought to be equal in right 
 doing. And in love of country. You ought to know 
 when war is righteous, and when peace is righteous. 
 And you can all be equal in this, that no man can 
 make you lie or steal or be a coward." 
 
 Thus she inspired them. Thus she saw them 
 thrill as she had herself been thrilled. And that was 
 her reward. For in her school were not only the 
 little Johns and the little Thomases and the little 
 Richards she found herself quite suddenly under- 
 standing why there were so many Richards there 
 were also the little Ottos and the little Ulrics and the 
 little Wilhelms, and there was Frangois, whose mother 
 went out to sew by the day, and there were Raphael 
 and Alessandro and Simon. Out from the big cities 
 had come the parents of these children, seeking the 
 land, usurping the places of the old American stock, 
 doing what had been left undone in the way of sow- 
 ing and planting and reaping, making the little 
 gardens yield as they had never yielded, even in 
 those wonder days before the war. 
 
 It was Anne Warfield's task to train the children 
 of the newcomers to the American ideal. With the 
 
 65
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 blood in her of statesmen and of soldiers it was 
 given to her to pass on the tradition of good citizen- 
 ship. She was, indeed, a torch-bearer, lighting the 
 way to love of country. Yet for a little while she 
 had forgotten it. 
 
 She had cried because she could not wear rose- 
 color ! 
 
 But now her head was high again, and when 
 Richard came she showed him her school, and he 
 shook hands first with the little girls and then with 
 the little boys, and he looked down their throats, and 
 asked them questions, and joked and prodded and 
 took their temperature, and he did it all in such happy 
 fashion that not even the littlest one was afraid. 
 
 And when Richard was ready to go, he said to 
 her, " I'll look after their bodies if you'll look after 
 their minds," and as she watched him walk away, 
 she had a tingling sense that they had formed a com- 
 pact which had to do with things above and beyond 
 the commonplace. 
 
 It began to snow in the afternoon, and it was 
 snowing hard when the school day ended. Eric 
 Brand came for Anne and Peggy in the funny little 
 station carriage which was kept at Bower's. Eric 
 and Anne sat on the front seat with Peggy between 
 them. The fat mare, Daisy, jogged placidly along 
 the still white road. There was a top to the carriage, 
 but the snow sifted in, so Anne wrapped Peggy in 
 an old shawl. 
 
 66
 
 PEGGT TAKES THE STAGE 
 
 " I don't need anything," she said, when Eric 
 offered her a heavier covering. " I love it like 
 this " 
 
 Eric Brand was big and blond and somewhat 
 slow in his movements. But he had brains and held 
 the position of telegraph operator at Bovver's Station. 
 He had, too, a heart of romance. The day before 
 he had seen Evelyn toss the rose to Richard, and he 
 had found it later where Richard had dropped it. 
 He had picked it up, and had put it in water. It 
 had seemed to him that the flower must feel the 
 slight which had been put upon it. 
 
 He spoke now to Anne of Richard. " They say 
 he is a good doctor." 
 
 " I can't see why he came here." 
 
 " His mother wanted him to come. She hates the 
 city. She went there as a bride. Her husband was 
 rich, but he was always speculating. Sometimes 
 they were so poor that she had to do her own work, 
 and sometimes they had a half dozen servants. But 
 they never had a home. And then all at once he 
 lost other people's money as well as his own and 
 he killed himself " 
 
 She turned on him her startled eyes. " Richard's 
 father?" 
 
 " Yes. And after that young Brooks decided that 
 as soon as he finished his medical course he would 
 come here. He thinks that he came because he 
 wanted to come, But he won't stay." 
 
 67
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " You saw his friends. And the women. Some 
 day he'll go back and marry that girl " 
 
 " Evelyn Chesley ? " 
 
 " Is that her name ? She threw him a rose ; " he 
 forgot to tell her that he had seen it fade. 
 
 They had reached the stable garage. Diogenes 
 welcomed them from his warm corner. The old dog 
 Mamie who had followed the carriage shook the 
 snow from her coat and flopped down on the floor 
 to rest. The little horse Daisy steamed and whin- 
 nied. It was a homely scene of sheltered creatures 
 in comfortable quarters. Anne knelt down by the 
 old drake, and he bent his head under her caressing 
 hand. Her face was grave. Eric, watching her, 
 asked : " Has it been a hard day ? " 
 
 " No ; " but she found herself suddenly tired. 
 
 She went in with Eric presently. They had a 
 good hot supper, and Anne was hungry. Gathered 
 around the table were Peter and his wife, Beulah 
 and Eric, with Peggy rounding out the half dozen. 
 Geoffrey Fox had gone to town to get his belongings. 
 
 Anne had a vision of Richard and his mother in the 
 big house. At their table would be lovely linen and 
 shining silver, and some little formality of service. 
 She felt that she belonged to people like that. She 
 had nothing in common with Peter and his wife and 
 with Eric Brand. Nor with Beulah. 
 
 Beulah was planning a little party for the evening. 
 
 68
 
 PEGOT TAKES THE STAGB 
 
 There was to have been skating, but the warmer 
 weather and the snow had made that impossible. 
 
 " I don't know just what I'll do with them," she 
 said ; " we might have games." 
 
 " Anne knows a lot of things." This from Peggy, 
 who was busy with her bread and milk. 
 
 "What things?" 
 
 "Oh, dancing " 
 
 Anne flushed. " Peggy ! " 
 
 " But we do. We make bows like this " 
 
 Peggy slid out of her chair and bobbed for them a 
 most entrancing little curtsey, with all her curls 
 flying. 
 
 " And the boys do this." She was quite stiff as she 
 showed them how the little boys bowed. 
 
 Anne seemed to feel some need of defense. 
 " Well, they must learn manners." 
 
 Peggy, wound up, would not be interrupted. " We 
 dance like this," and away she went in a mad gallop. 
 
 Anne laughed. " It warms their blood when the 
 fire won't burn. Peggy, it isn't quite as bad as that. 
 Show them nicely." 
 
 So Peggy showed them some pretty steps, and 
 then came back to her bread and milk. 
 
 " We might dance." Beulah's mind was on her 
 party. " But some of them don't know how." 
 
 Anne offered no suggestions. She really might 
 have helped if she had cared to do it. But she did 
 not care. 
 
 69
 
 MISTRESS 
 
 When she had finished supper, Eric followed her 
 into the hall. " You'll come down, won't you ? " 
 
 " I'm not sure." 
 
 " Beulah would like it if you would." 
 
 " I have a lot of things to do." 
 
 " Let them go. You can always work. When 
 you hear the fire roaring up the chimney, you will 
 know that it is calling to you, ' Come down, come 
 down ! ' " 
 
 He stood and watched her as she climbed the stairs. 
 Then he went back and helped Beulah. 
 
 Beulah was really very pretty, and to-night her 
 cheeks were pink as she made her little plans with 
 him. 
 
 He gave himself pleasantly to her guidance. He 
 moved the furniture for her into the big front room, 
 so that there would be a space for dancing. And 
 presently it became not a sanctum for staid Old 
 Gentlemen, but a gathering place for youth and joy. 
 
 Eric made his rounds before the company came. 
 He looked after the dogs in the kennels and at 
 Daisy in her stall. He flashed his lantern into Di- 
 ogenes' dark corner and saw the old drake at rest. 
 
 The snow was whirling in a blinding storm when 
 at last he staggered in with a great log for the fire, 
 and with a basket of cones to make the air sweet. 
 And it was as he knelt to put the cones on the fire 
 that Anne came in and stood beside him. 
 
 She had swept up her hair in the new way from 
 
 70
 
 PEGGT TAKES THE STAGE 
 
 her forehead. She wore white silk stockings and 
 little flat-heeled black slippers, and a flounced white 
 frock. She was not in the least in fashion, but she 
 was quaintly childish and altogether lovely. 
 
 The big man looked up at her. " You look nice 
 in that dress." 
 
 She smiled down at him. " I'm glad you like it, 
 Eric." 
 
 When the young belles and beauties of the country- 
 side came in later, Anne found herself quite eclipsed 
 by their blooming charms. The young men, know- 
 ing her as the school-teacher, were afraid of her 
 brains. They talked to her stiffly, and left her as 
 soon as possible for the easier society of girls of 
 their own kind. Peggy sat with Anne on the big 
 settle beside the fire. The child's hand was hot, and 
 she seemed sleepy. 
 
 " My eyes hurt," she said, crossly. 
 
 " You ought to be in bed, Peggy; shall I take you?" 
 
 " No. There's going to be an oyster stew. 
 Daddy said I might sit up." 
 
 Beulah in pink and very important came over to 
 them. "Could you show us some of the dances^ 
 Anne?" 
 
 " Oh, Beulah, can't they play games ? " 
 
 " I think you might help us." Beulah's tone was 
 slightly petulant. 
 
 Anne stood up. " There's a march I taught the 
 children. We could begin with that."
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 She led the march with Eric. Behind her was the 
 loud laughter of the brawny young men, the loud 
 laughter of the blooming young women. Their 
 merriment sounded a different note from that struck 
 by the genial Old Gentlemen or by the gay group of 
 young folk from New York. What was the differ- 
 ence ? Training ? Birth ? 
 
 Anne felt suddenly much alone. She had not be- 
 longed to Evelyn Chesley's crowd, she did not be- 
 long with Beulah's friends. She wondered if she 
 really belonged anywhere. 
 
 Yet as her mind went over and over these things, 
 her little slippered feet led the march. Eric was not 
 awkward, and he fell easily into the step. 
 
 "How nicely we do it together," he said, and 
 beamed down on her, and because her heart was 
 really a kind little heart and a womanly one, she 
 smiled up at him and tried to be as fine and friendly 
 as she would have wanted her children to be. 
 
 After the dance, the young folks played old-fash- 
 ioned games " Going to Jerusalem " and " Post 
 Office." Anne fled to the settle when the last game 
 was announced. Peggy was moping among the 
 cushions. 
 
 " Let me take you up to bed, dearie." 
 
 " No, I won't. I want to stay here." 
 
 The fun was fast and furious. Anne had a little 
 shivery feeling as she watched the girls go out into 
 the hall and come back blushing. How could they 
 
 72
 
 PEGGT TAKES THE STAGE 
 
 give so lightly what seemed to her so sacred? A 
 woman's lips were for her lover. 
 
 She sat very still among the cushions. The fire 
 roared up the chimney. Outside the wind blew; 
 far away in the distance a dog barked. 
 
 The barking dog was young Toby. At the 
 heels of his master he was headed straight for 
 the long low house and the grateful shelter of its 
 warmth. 
 
 Richard stood for a moment on the porch, looking 
 in through the lighted window. A romping game 
 was in full progress. This time it was " Drop the 
 Handkerchief" and a plump and pretty girl was 
 having a tussle with her captor. Everybody was 
 shouting, clapping. Everybody? On an old settle 
 by the fire sat a slim girl in a white gown. Peggy 
 lay in the curve of her arm, and she was looking 
 down at Peggy. 
 
 Richard laughed a big laugh. He could not have 
 told why he laughed, but he flung the door open 
 and stood there radiant. 
 
 " May I come in ? " he demanded of Beulah, " or 
 will I break up your party ? " 
 
 " Oh, Dr. Brooks, as if you could. We are so 
 glad to have you." 
 
 " I had a sick call, and we are half frozen, Toby 
 and I, and we saw the lights " 
 
 Now the best place for a half-frozen man is by the 
 fire, and the best place for an anxious and shivering 
 
 73
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 dog is in a warm chimney corner, so in a moment 
 the young dog Toby was where he could thaw out 
 in a luxurious content, and Richard was on the settle 
 beside Anne, and was saying, " Isn't this great? Do 
 you think I ought to stay ? I'm not really invited, 
 you know." 
 
 " There's never any formality. Everybody just 
 comes." 
 
 " I like your frock," he said suddenly. " You re- 
 mind me of a little porcelain figure I saw in a Fifth 
 Avenue window not long ago." 
 
 " Tell me about it," she said with eagerness. 
 
 " About what ? " 
 
 " New York and the shops. Oh, I saw them once. 
 They were like Heaven." 
 
 She laughed up at him as she said it, and he 
 laughed back. 
 
 " You'd get tired of them if you lived there." 
 
 " I should never get tired. And if I had money 
 I'd go on in and try on everything. I saw a picture 
 of a gown I'd like all silver spangles with a pointed 
 train. Do you know I've never worn a train ? I 
 should like one and a big fan with feathers." 
 
 He shook his head. " Trains wouldn't suit your 
 style. Nor big fans. You ought to have a little 
 fan of sandal wood, with a purple and green tassel 
 and smelling sweet. Mother says that her mother 
 carried a fan like that at a White House ball." 
 
 " I've never been to a ball." 
 
 74
 
 PEGGT TAKES THE STAGE 
 
 " Well, you needn't want to go. It's a cram and 
 a jam and everybody bored to death." 
 
 " I shouldn't be bored. I should love it." 
 
 His eyes were on the fire. And presently he said, 
 " It seems queer to be away from it New York. 
 There's something about it that gets into your blood. 
 You want it as you do drink." 
 
 " Then you'll be going back." 
 
 He jerked around to look at her. " No," sharply ; 
 " what makes you say that? " 
 
 " Because it it doesn't seem possible that you 
 could be buried here." 
 
 " Do you feel buried ? " 
 
 She nodded. " Oh, yes." 
 
 His face was grave. " And doesn't the school 
 work help ? " 
 
 She caught her breath. " That's the best part of 
 it. You see I love the children." 
 
 He flashed a quick glance at her. " Then you're 
 lonely sometimes ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I fancy these people aren't exactly your kind. 
 I wish you'd come and see my mother. She's aw- 
 fully worth while, you know. And she'd be so glad 
 to have you." 
 
 She found herself saying, " My grandmother was 
 Cynthia Warfield. She knew your grandfather. I 
 have some old letters. I think your mother might 
 like to see them." 
 
 75
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " No wonder I've been puzzling over you 1 Cyn- 
 thia Warfield's portrait hangs in our library. And 
 you're like your grandmother. Only you're young 
 and alive." 
 
 Again his ringing laugh and her own to meet it. 
 She felt so young and happy. So very, very young, 
 and so very, very happy 1 
 
 Mrs. Bower, appearing importantly, announced 
 supper. Beyond the hall, through the open door of 
 the dining-room they could see the loaded table 
 with the tureens of steaming oysters at each end. 
 
 There was at once a rollicking stampede. 
 
 Anne leaned down to wake Peggy. The child 
 opened her heavy eyes, and murmured : " I want 
 a drink." 
 
 Richard glanced at her. " Hello, hello," he said, 
 quickly. " What's the matter, Pussy ? " 
 
 "I'm not Pussy I'm Peggy." The child was 
 ready for tears. 
 
 He picked her up in his arms and carried her to 
 the light. With careful ringer he lifted the heavy 
 eyelids and touched the hot little cheeks. " How 
 long has she been this way ? " he asked Anne. 
 
 "Just since supper. Is there anything the matter 
 with her ? Is she really sick, Dr. Brooks ? " 
 
 " Measles," he said succinctly. " You'd better get 
 her straight to bed."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 In Which a Gray Plush Pussy Cat Supplies a Theme. 
 
 ANNE at the top of the stairs talked to Geoffrey 
 Fox at the foot. 
 
 " But you really ought not to stay." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because if you haven't had the measles you 
 might get them, and, besides, poor Mrs. Bower is so 
 busy." 
 
 " Why not tell me the truth ? You don't want 
 me to stay." 
 
 " What difference can it possibly make to me ? " 
 
 " It may make a great difference," Geoffrey said, 
 quietly, " whether I go or stay, but we won't talk of 
 that. I am here. All my traps, bag and baggage, 
 typewriter and trunks books and bathrobe and 
 yet you want to send me away." 
 
 " I haven't anything to do with it. But the house 
 is closed to every one." 
 
 " And everything smells of antiseptics. I rather 
 like that. I spent six weeks in a hospital once. I 
 had a nervous breakdown, and the quiet was 
 heavenly, and all the nurses were angels." 
 
 77
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 She would not smile. " Of course if you will 
 stay," she said, " you must take things as they 
 come. Mrs. Bower will send your meals up to you. 
 She won't have time to set a company table." 
 
 " I'm not company ; let me eat with the rest of 
 you." 
 
 She hesitated. " You wouldn't like it. I don't 
 like it. There's no service, you see we all just 
 help ourselves." 
 
 " I can help myself." 
 
 She shook her head. " It will be easier for Mrs. 
 Bower to bring it up." 
 
 He climbed three steps and stopped. " Are you 
 going to do all the nursing?" 
 
 " I shall do some of it. Peggy is really ill. There 
 are complications. And Mrs. Bower and Beulah 
 have so much to do. We shall have to close the 
 school. Dr. Brooks wants to save as many as pos- 
 sible from having it." 
 
 " So Brooks is handling Peggy's case." 
 
 " Of course. Peter Bower knew his grandfather." 
 
 "Well, it is something to have a grandfather. 
 And to follow in his footsteps." 
 
 But her mind was not on grandfathers. " Dr. 
 Brooks will be here in an hour and I must get 
 Peggy's room ready. And will you please look 
 after yourself for a little while ? Eric will attend to 
 your trunks." 
 
 It took Geoffrey all the morning to settle. He 
 
 78
 
 A PLUSH PUSST CAT 
 
 heard Richard come and go. At noon Anne brought 
 up his tray. 
 
 Opening the door to her knock, he protested. 
 "You shouldn't have done it." 
 
 "Why not? It is all in the day's work. And I 
 am not going to be silly about it any more." 
 
 " You were never silly about it." 
 
 " Yes, I was. But I have worked it all out in my 
 mind. My bringing up the tray to you won't make 
 me any less than I am or any more. It is the way 
 we feel about ourselves that counts not what other 
 people think of us." 
 
 " So you don't care what I think of you ? " 
 
 " No, not if I am doing the things I think are 
 right." 
 
 " And you don't care what Richard Brooks 
 thinks?" 
 
 The color mounted. " No," steadily. 
 
 " Nor Miss Chesley ? " 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " Not of course. You do care. You'd hate it if 
 you thought they'd criticize. And you'd cry after 
 you went to bed." 
 
 She felt that such clairvoyance was uncanny. " I 
 wouldn't cry." 
 
 " Well, you'd feel like it." 
 
 " Please don't talk about me in that way. It really 
 doesn't make any difference how I feel, does it? 
 And your lunch is getting cold." 
 
 79
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 41 What made you bring it? Why didn't you let 
 Mrs. Bower or Beulah?" 
 
 " Mrs. Bower is lying down, and Beulah has been 
 ironing all the morning." 
 
 "The next time call me, and I'll wait upon my- 
 self." 
 
 " Perhaps I shall." She surveyed his tray. " I've 
 forgotten the cream for your coffee." 
 
 " I don't take cream. Oh, please don't go. I 
 want you to see my books and my other belong- 
 ings." 
 
 He had brought dozens of books, a few pic- 
 tures, a little gilded Chinese god, a bronze bust of 
 Napoleon. 
 
 " Everything has a reason for being dragged 
 around with me. That etching of Helleu's is like 
 my little sister, Mimi, who is at school in a convent, 
 and who constitutes my whole family. The gilded 
 Chinese god is a mascot the Napoleon intrigues 
 the imagination." 
 
 " Do you think so much of Napoleon ? " coldly. 
 " He was a little great man. I'd rather talk to my 
 children of George Washington." 
 
 " You women have a grudge against him because 
 of Josephine." 
 
 "Yes. He killed something in himself when he 
 put her from him. And the world knew it, and his 
 downfall began. He forgot that love is the greatest 
 thing in the world." 
 
 80
 
 A PLUSH PUSST CAT 
 
 How lovely she was, all fire and feeling ! 
 
 "Jove," he said, staring, "if you could write, 
 you'd make people sit up and listen. You've kept 
 your dreams. That's what the world wants the 
 stuff that dreams are made of. And most of us 
 have lost ours by the time we know how to put 
 things on paper." 
 
 For days the sound of Geoffrey's typewriter could 
 be heard in the hall. " Does it disturb Peggy ?" he 
 asked Anne late one night as he met her on the stairs. 
 
 " No ; her room is too far away. You were so 
 good to send her the lovely toys. She adores the 
 plush pussy cat." 
 
 " I like cats. They are coy and caressing. Dogs 
 are too frankly adoring." 
 
 " The eternal masculine." She smiled at him. 
 " Is your work coming on ? " 
 
 " I have a first chapter. May I read it to you ? " 
 
 " Please I should love it." 
 
 She was glad to sit quietly by the big fireplace. 
 With eyes half-closed, she listened to the opening 
 sentences. But as he proceeded, her listlessness 
 vanished. And when he laid down the manuscript 
 she was leaning forward, her slim hands clasped 
 tensely on her knees, her eyes wide with interest. 
 
 " Oh, oh," she told him, " how do you know it all 
 how can you make them live and breathe like 
 that ? " 
 
 81
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 For a moment he did not answer, then he said, 
 " I don't know how I do it. No artist knows how 
 he creates. It is like Life and Death and other 
 miracles. If I could keep to this pace, I'd have a 
 masterpiece. But I shan't keep to it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I never do." 
 
 " But this time with such a beginning." 
 
 " Will you be my critic, Mistress Anne ? Let me 
 read to you now and then like this?" 
 
 " I am afraid I should spoil you with praise. It 
 all seems so wonderful." 
 
 " You can't spoil me, and I like to be wonderful." 
 
 In spite of his egotism, she found herself modify- 
 ing her first unfavorable estimate of him. His quick 
 eager speech, his mobile mouth, his mop of dark 
 hair, his white restless hands, his long-lashed near- 
 sighted eyes, these contributed a personality which 
 had in it nothing commonplace or conventional. 
 
 For three nights he read to her. On the fourth he 
 had nothing to read. " It is the same old story," he 
 burst out passionately. "I see mountain peaks, 
 then, suddenly, darkness falls and my brain is 
 blank." 
 
 " Wait a little," she told him ; " it will come back." 
 
 " But it never comes back. All of my good begin- 
 nings flat out toward the end. And that's why I'm 
 pot-boiling, because," bitterly, " I am not big enough 
 for anything else." 
 
 82
 
 A PLUSH PUSSr CAT 
 
 " You mustn't say such things. We achieve only 
 as we believe in ourselves. Don't you know that ? 
 If you believe that things are going to end badly, 
 they will end badly." 
 
 " Oh, wise little school-teacher, how do you 
 know?" 
 
 "It is what I teach my children. That they must 
 believe in themselves." 
 
 " What else do you teach them ? " 
 
 " That they must believe in God and love their 
 country, and then nothing can happen to them that 
 they cannot bear. It is only when one loses faith 
 and hope that life doesn't seem worth while." 
 
 " And do you believe all that you teach ? " 
 
 Silence. She was gazing into the fire thought- 
 fully. " I believe it, but I don't always live up to it. 
 That's the hard part, acting up the things that we 
 believe. I tell my children that, and I tell them, too, 
 that they must always keep on trying." 
 
 She was delicious with her theories and her seri- 
 ousness. And she was charming in the crisp blue 
 gown that had been her uniform since the beginning 
 of Peggy's illness. 
 
 He laughed and leaned toward her. " Oh, Mistress 
 Anne, Mistress Anne, how much you have to learn." 
 
 She stood up. " Perhaps I know more than you 
 think." 
 
 " Are you angry because I said that ? But I love 
 your arguments." 
 
 83
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 His frankness was irresistible ; she could not take 
 offense so she sat down again. 
 
 " Perhaps," she said, hesitating, " you might under- 
 stand better how I feel if I told you about my Great- 
 uncle Rodman Warfield. When he was very young 
 he went to Paris to study art, and he attracted much 
 attention. Then after a while he began to find the 
 people interested him more than pictures. You see 
 we come from old Maryland stock. My grand- 
 mother, Cynthia Warfield, was one of the proudest 
 women in Carroll. But Uncle Rodman doesn't be- 
 lieve in family pride, not the kind that sticks its nose 
 in the air ; and so when he came back to America 
 he resolved to devote his talents to glorifying the 
 humble. He lived among the poor and he painted 
 pictures of them. And then one day there was an 
 accident. He saved a woman from drowning be- 
 tween a ferry-boat and the slip, and he hurt his back. 
 There was a sort of paralysis that affected the nerves 
 of his hand and he couldn't paint any more. He 
 came to us when I was a little girl. My father was 
 dead, and mother had a small income. We couldn't 
 afford servants, so mother sewed and Uncle Rod and 
 I did the housework. And it was he who tried to 
 teach me that work is the one royal thing in our 
 lives." 
 
 " Where is he now ?" 
 
 " When mother died our income was cut off, and 
 I had to leave him. He could have a home with 
 
 84
 
 A PLUSH PUSST CAT 
 
 a cousin of ours and teach her children. I might 
 have stayed with her, but there was nothing for me 
 to do. And we felt that it was best for me to find 
 myself. So I came here. He writes to me every 
 
 day " She drew a long breath. " I don't think 
 
 I could live without letters from my Uncle Rod." 
 
 " So you are really a princess in disguise, and 
 you would love to stick your nose in the air, but you 
 don't quite dare?" 
 
 " I shouldn't love to do anything snobbish." 
 
 "There is no use in pretending that you are 
 humble when you are not. And your Great-uncle 
 Rodman is a dreamer. Life is what it is, not what 
 we want it to be." 
 
 " I like his dreams," she said, simply, " and I want 
 to be as good as he thinks I am." 
 
 " You don't have to be too good. You are too 
 pretty. Do you know that Cynthia Warfield's 
 granddaughter is a great beauty, Mistress Anne? " 
 
 " I know that I don't like to have you say such 
 things to me." 
 
 'Why not?" 
 
 " I am not sure that you mean them." 
 
 " But I do mean them," eagerly. 
 
 " Perhaps," stiffly, " but we won't talk about it. 
 I must go up to Peggy." 
 
 Peter Bower was with Peggy. He was a round 
 and red-faced Peter with the kindest heart in the 
 world. And Peggy was the apple of his eye. 
 
 85
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Do you think she is better, Miss Anne? " 
 
 " Indeed I do. And now you go and get some 
 sleep, Mr. Bower. I'll stay with her until four, and 
 then I'll wake Beulah." 
 
 He left her with the daily paper and a new 
 magazine, and with the light shaded, Anne sat down 
 to read. Peggy was sleeping soundly with both 
 arms around the plush pussy which Geoffrey had 
 given her. It was a most lifelike pussy, gray- 
 striped with green glass eyes and with a little red 
 mouth that opened and mewed when you pulled a 
 string. Hung by a ribbon around the pussy cat's 
 neck was a little brass bell. As the child stirred in 
 her sleep the little bell tinkled. There was no sound 
 except the sighing of the wind. All the house was 
 still. 
 
 The paper was full of news of the great war. 
 Anne read it carefully, and the articles on the same 
 subject in the magazine. She felt that she must 
 know as much as possible, so that she might speak 
 to her children intelligently of the great conflict. Of 
 Belgium and England, of France and Germany. 
 She must be fair, with all those clear eyes focussed 
 upon her. She must, indeed, attempt a sort of 
 neutrality. But how could she be neutral, with her 
 soul burning candles on the altar of the allies ? 
 
 As she read on and on in the silence of the night, 
 there came to her the thought of the dead on the 
 field of battle. What of those shining souls ? What 
 
 86
 
 A PLUSH PUSST CAT 
 
 happened after men went out into the . Great Be- 
 yond ? Hun and Norman, Saxon and Slav, among 
 the shadows were they all at Peace ? 
 
 Again the child stirred and the little bell tinkled. 
 It seemed to Anne that the bell and the staring eyes 
 were symbolic. The gay world played its foolish 
 music and looked with unseeing eyes upon murder 
 and madness. If little Peggy had lain there dead, 
 the little bell would still have tinkled, the wide green 
 eyes would still have stared. 
 
 But Peggy, thank God, was alive. Her face, like 
 old ivory against the whiteness of her pillow, showed 
 the ravages of illness, but the doctor had said she 
 was out of danger. 
 
 The child stirred and spoke. " Anne," she whis- 
 pered, " tell me about the bears." 
 
 Anne knelt beside the bed. " We must be very 
 quiet," she said. " I don't want to wake Beulah." 
 
 So very softly she told the story. Of the Daddy 
 Bear and the Mother Bear and the Baby Bear ; of 
 the little House in the Woods ; of Goldilocks, the 
 three bowls of soup, the three chairs, the three 
 beds 
 
 In the midst of it all Peggy sat up. " I want a 
 bowl of soup like the little bear." 
 
 " But, darling, you've had your lovely supper." 
 
 " I don't care." Peggy's lip quivered. " I'm just 
 starved, and I can't wait until I have my breakfast." 
 
 " Let me tell you the rest of the story." 
 
 87
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 "No. I don't want to hear it. I want a bowl of 
 soup like the little bear's." 
 
 " Maybe it wasn't nice soup, Peggy." 
 
 " But you said it was. You said that the Mother 
 Bear made it out of the corn from the farmer's field, 
 and the cock that the fox brought, and she seasoned 
 it with herbs that she found at the edge of the forest. 
 You said yourself it was dee-licious soup, Miss Anne." 
 
 She began to cry weakly. 
 
 " Dearie, don't. If I go down into the kitchen 
 and warm some broth will you keep very still?" 
 
 " Yes. Only I don't want just broth. I want 
 soup like the little bear had." 
 
 "Peggy, I am not a fairy godmother. I can't 
 wave my wand and get things in the middle of the 
 night." 
 
 " Well, anyhow, you can put it in a blue bowl, you 
 said the little bear had his in a blue bowl, and you 
 said he had ten crackers in it. I want ten crack- 
 ers " 
 
 The kitchen was warm and shadowy, with the 
 light of a kerosene lamp above the cook-stove. Anne 
 flitted about noiselessly, finding a little saucepan, 
 finding a little blue bowl, breaking one cracker into 
 ten bits to satisfy the insistent Peggy, stirring the 
 bubbling broth with a spoon as she bent above it. 
 
 And as she stirred, she was thinking of Geoffrey 
 Fox, not as she had thought of Richard, with pulses 
 throbbing and heart fluttering, but calmly ; of his 
 
 88
 
 A PLUSH PUSST CAT 
 
 book and of the little bust of Napoleon, and of the 
 things that she had been reading about the war. 
 
 She poured the soup out of the saucepan, and set 
 it steaming on a low tray. Then quietly she as- 
 cended the stairs. Geoffrey's door was wide open 
 and his room was empty, but through the dimness 
 of the long hall she discerned his figure, outlined 
 against a wide window at the end. Back of him the 
 world under the light of the waning moon showed 
 black and white like a great wash drawing. 
 
 He turned as she came toward him. " I heard 
 you go down," he said. " I've been writing all 
 night and I've written perfect rot." His hands 
 went out in a despairing gesture. 
 
 Composed and quiet in her crisp linen, she looked 
 up at him. " Write about the war," she said ; " take 
 three soldiers, French, German and English. Make 
 their hearts hot with hatred, and then let them lie 
 wounded together on the field of battle in the dark- 
 ness of the night with death ahead and let each 
 one tell his story let them be drawn together by 
 the knowledge of a common lot a common des- 
 tiny " 
 
 "What made you think of that?" he demanded. 
 
 " Peggy's pussy cat." She told him of the staring 
 eyes and the tinkling bell. " But I mustn't stay. 
 Peggy is waiting for her soup." 
 
 He gazed at her with admiration. " How do you 
 doit?" 
 
 89
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 "Do what?" 
 
 " Dictate a heaven-born plot to me in one breath, 
 and speak of Peggy's soup in the next You are 
 like Werther's Charlotte." 
 
 " I am Jike myself. And we mustn't stay here 
 talking. It is time we were both in bed. I am go- 
 ing to wake Beulah when I have fed Peggy." 
 
 He made a motion of salute. " The princess 
 serves," he said, laughing. 
 
 But as she passed on, calm and cool and collected, 
 carrying the tray before her like the famous Choco- 
 late lady on the backs of magazines, the laugh died 
 on his lips. She was not to be laughed at, this little 
 Anne Warfield, who held her head so high ! 
 
 90
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 In Which Geoffrey Writes of Soldiers and Their 
 Souls. 
 
 EVE CHESLEY writing from New York was 
 still in a state of rebellion. 
 
 " And now they all have the measles. Richard, it 
 needed only your letter to let me know what you 
 have done to yourself. When I think of you, tear- 
 ing around the country on your old white horse, 
 with your ears tied up I am sure you tie up your 
 ears it is a perfect nightmare. Oh, Dicky Boy, 
 and you might be here specializing on appendicitis 
 or something equally reasonable and modern. I 
 feel as if the world were upside down. Do children 
 in New York ever have the measles ? Somehow I 
 never hear of it. It seems to me almost archaic 
 like mumps. Nobody in society ever has the 
 mumps, or if they do, they keep it a dead secret, like 
 a family skeleton, or a hard-working grandfather. 
 
 " Your letters are so short, and they don't tell me 
 what you do with your evenings. Don't you miss 
 us ? Don't you miss me ? And our good times ? 
 And the golden lights of the city ? Winifred Ames 
 wants you for a dinner dance on the twentieth. 
 
 91
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Can't you turn the measley kiddies over to some 
 one else and come ? Say ' yes,' Dicky, dear. Oh, 
 you musn't be just a country doctor. You were 
 born for bigger things, and some day you will see 
 it and be sorry." 
 
 Richard's letter, dashed off between visits to the 
 " measley kiddies," was as follows : 
 
 "There aren't any bigger things, Eve, and I 
 shan't be sorry. I can't get away just now, and to 
 be frank, I don't want to. There is nothing dull 
 about measles. They have aspects of interest un- 
 known to a dinner dance. I am not saying that I 
 don't miss some of the things that I have left behind 
 my good friends you and Pip and the Dutton- 
 Ames. But there are compensations. And you 
 should see my horse. He's a heavy fellow like a 
 horse of Flanders ; I call him Ben because he is big 
 and gentle. I don't tie up my ears, but I should if I 
 wanted to. And please don't think I am ungrateful 
 because I am not coming to the Dutton-Ames dance. 
 Why don't you and the rest drift down here for a 
 week-end? Next Friday, the Friday after? Let me 
 know. There's good skating now that the snows 
 have stopped." 
 
 He signed it and sealed it and on the way to see 
 little Peggy he dropped it into the box. Then he 
 entirely forgot it. It was a wonderful morning, with a 
 sky like sapphire above a white world, the dog Toby 
 racing ahead of him, and big gentle Ben at a trot. 
 
 92
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 At the innocent word " compensations " Evelyn 
 Chesley pricked up her ears. What compensations ? 
 She got Philip Meade on the telephone. 
 
 " Richard has asked us for the week-end, Pip. 
 Could we go in your car ? " 
 
 " Unless it snows again. But why seek such 
 solitudes, Eye ? " 
 
 " I want to take Richard a fur cap. I am sure he 
 ties up his ears." 
 
 " Send it." 
 
 " In a cold-blooded parcel post package ? I will 
 not. Pip, if you won't go, I'll kidnap Aunt Maude, 
 and carry her off by train." 
 
 " And leave me out ? Not much. ' Whither thou 
 goest ' " 
 
 "Even when I am on the trail of another man ? 
 Pip, you are a dear idiot." 
 
 " The queen's fool." 
 
 So it was decided that on Friday, weather per- 
 mitting, they should go. 
 
 Aunt Maude, protesting, said, " It isn't proper, 
 Eve. Girls in my day didn't go running around 
 after men. They sat at home and waited." 
 
 " Why wait, dearest ? When I see a good thing 
 I go for it." 
 
 "Eve 1" 
 
 " And anyhow I am not running after Dicky. I 
 am rescuing him." 
 
 " From what ? " 
 
 93
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 " From his mother, dearest, and his own dreams. 
 Their heads are in the clouds, and they don't 
 know it." 
 
 " I think myself that Nancy is making a mistake." 
 
 " More of a mistake than she understands." The 
 lightness left Eve's voice. She was silent as she ate 
 an orange and drank a cup of clear coffee. Eve's 
 fashionable and adorable thinness was the result 
 of abstinence and of exercise. Facing daily Aunt 
 Maude's plumpness, she had sacrificed ease and 
 appetite on the altar of grace and beauty. 
 
 Yet Aunt Maude's plumpness was not the plump- 
 ness of inelegance. Nothing about Aunt Maude was 
 inelegant. She was of ancient Knickerbocker stock. 
 She had been petrified by years of social exclusive- 
 ness into something less amiable than her curves 
 and dimples promised. Her hair was gray, and not 
 much of it was her own. Her curled bang and high 
 coronet braid were held flatly against her head by a 
 hair net. She wore always certain chains and brace- 
 lets which proclaimed the family's past prosperity. 
 Her present prosperity was evidenced by the some- 
 what severe richness of her attire. Her complexion 
 was delicately yellow and her wrinkles were deep. 
 Her eyes were light blue and coldly staring. In 
 manner she seemed to set herself against any world 
 but her own. 
 
 The money on which the two women lived was 
 Aunt Maude's. She expected to make Eve her heir. 
 
 94
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 In the meantime she gave her a generous allowance 
 and indulged most of her whims. 
 
 The latest whim was the new breakfast room in 
 which they now sat, with the winter sun streaming 
 through the small panes of a wide south window. 
 
 For sixty odd years Aunt Maude had eaten her 
 breakfast promptly at eight from a tray in her own 
 room. It had been a hearty breakfast of hot breads 
 and chops. At one she had lunched decently in 
 the long dim dining-room in a mid- Victorian atmos- 
 phere of Moquet and marble mantels, carved walnut 
 and plush curtains. 
 
 And now back of this sacred dining-room Eve 
 had built out a structure of glass and of stone, look- 
 ing over a scrap of enclosed city garden, and fur- 
 nished in black and white, relieved by splashes of 
 brilliant color. Aunt Maude hated the green par- 
 rot and the flame-colored fishes in the teakwood 
 aquarium. She thought that Eve looked like an 
 actress in the little jacket with the apple-green rib- 
 bons which she wore when she came down at twelve. 
 
 " Aren't we ever going to eat any more lunch- 
 eons?" had been Aunt Maude's plaintive question 
 when she realized that she was in the midst of a 
 gastronomic revolution. 
 
 " Nobody does, dearest. If you are really up-to- 
 date you breakfast and dine the other meals are 
 vague illusory." 
 
 " People in my time " Aunt Maude had stated. 
 
 95
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " People in your time," Evelyn had interrupted flip- 
 pantly, " were wise and good. Nobody wants to be 
 wise and good in these days. We want to be smart 
 and sophisticated. Your good old stuffy dining- 
 rooms were like your good old stuffy consciences. 
 Now my breakfast room is symbolic the green and 
 white for the joy of living, and the black for my 
 sins." 
 
 She stood up on tiptoe to feed the parrot. " To- 
 morrow," she announced, " I am to have a black 
 cat. I found one at the cat show with green eyes. 
 And I am going to match his cushion to his eyes." 
 
 " I'd like a cat," Aunt Maude said, unexpectedly, 
 " but I can't say that I care for black ones. The 
 grays are the best mousers." 
 
 Eve looked at her reproachfully. " Do you think 
 that cats catch mice ? " she demanded, " up-to-date 
 cats ? They sit on cushions and add emphasis to 
 the color scheme. Winifred Ames has a yellow one 
 to go with her primrose panels." 
 
 The telephone rang. A maid answered it. " It 
 is for you, Miss Evelyn." 
 
 " It is Pip," Eve said, as she turned from the tele- 
 phone ; " he's coming up." 
 
 Aunt Maude surveyed her. " You're not going to 
 receive him as you are ? " 
 
 " As I am ? Why not ? " 
 
 " Eve, go to your room and put something on" 
 
 Aunt Maude agonized ; " when I was a girl " 
 
 06
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 Evelyn dropped a kiss on her cheek. " When you 
 were a girl, Aunt Maude, you were very pretty, and 
 you wore very low necks and short sleeves on the 
 street, and short dresses and and " 
 
 Remembering the family album, Aunt Maude 
 stopped her hastily. " It doesn't make any differ- 
 ence what I wore. You are not going to receive 
 any gentleman in that ridiculous jacket." 
 
 Eve surveyed herself in an oval mirror set above 
 a console-table. " I think I look rather nice. And 
 Pip would like me in anything. Aunt Maude, it's a 
 queer world for us women. The men that we want 
 don't want us, and the men that we don't want adore 
 us. The emancipation of women will come when 
 they can ask men to marry them." 
 
 She was ruffling the feathers on the green parrot's 
 head. He caught her finger carefully in his claw 
 and crooned. 
 
 Aunt Maude rose. " I had twenty proposals 
 your uncle's was the twentieth. I loved him at first 
 sight, and I loved him until he left me." 
 
 " Uncle was a dear," Eve agreed, " but suppose 
 he hadn't asked you, Aunt Maude ? " 
 
 " I should have remained single to the end of my 
 days." 
 
 " Oh, no, you wouldn't, Aunt Maude. You would 
 have married the wrong man that's the way it al- 
 ways ends if women didn't marry the wrong men 
 half the world would be old maids." 
 
 97
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Philip Meade was much in love. He had money, 
 family, good looks and infinite patience. Some day 
 he meant to marry Eve. But he was aware that 
 she was not yet in love with him. 
 
 She came down gowned for the street. And thus 
 kept him waiting. " It was Aunt Maude's fault. 
 She made me dress. Pip, where shall we walk ? " 
 
 He did not care. He cared only to be with her. 
 He told her so, and she smiled up at him wistfully. 
 " You're such a dear I wish " 
 
 She stopped. 
 
 " What do you wish ? " he asked eagerly. 
 
 " For the sun. You are the moon. May I call 
 you my moon-man, Pip ? " 
 
 He knew what she meant. "Yes. But you 
 must remember that some day I shall not be con- 
 tent to take second place I shall fight for the head 
 of your line of lovers." 
 
 " Line of lovers Pip. I don't like the sound 
 of it." 
 
 " Why not ? It's true." 
 
 Again she was wistful. " I wonder how many of 
 them really care ? Pip, it is the one-proposal girl 
 who is lucky. She has no problems. She simply 
 takes the man she can get ! " 
 
 They were swinging along Fifth Avenue. He 
 stopped at a flower shop and bought her a tight 
 little knot of yellow roses which matched her hair. 
 She was in brown velvet with brown boots and brown 
 
 98
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 furs. Her skin showed pink and white in the clear 
 cold. She and the big man by her side were a pair 
 good to look upon, and people turned to look. 
 
 Coming to a famous jewel shop she turned in. " I 
 am going to have all of Aunt Maude's opals set in 
 platinum to make a long chain. She gave them to 
 me ; and there'll be diamonds at intervals. I want 
 to wear smoke-colored tulle at Winifred Ames' din- 
 ner dance and the opals will light it." 
 
 Philip Meade's mind was not poetic, yet as his 
 eyes followed Evelyn, he was aware that this was an 
 atmosphere which belonged to her. Her beauty was 
 opulent, needing richness to set it off, needing the 
 shine of jewels, the shimmer of silk 
 
 If he married her he could give her a tiara of 
 diamonds a necklace of pearls a pendant a ring. 
 His eyes swept the store adorning her. 
 
 When they came out he said, " I think I am 
 showing a greatness of mind which should win 
 your admiration." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " In taking you to Crossroads." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " You know why. Shall you write to Brooks that 
 we are coming ? " 
 
 " No. I want it to be a surprise. That's half the 
 fun." 
 
 But there was nothing funny about it, as it 
 proved, for it was on that very Friday morning that 
 
 99
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Richard had found Peggy much better, and Anne 
 very pale with circles under her eyes. 
 
 He went away, and later his mother called Anne 
 up. She asked her to spend the day at Crossroads. 
 Richard would come for her and would bring her 
 home after dinner. 
 
 Anne, with a fluttering sense of excitement, packed 
 her ruffled white frock in a little bag, and was ready 
 when Richard arrived. 
 
 At the gate they met Geoffrey Fox. The young 
 doctor stopped his horse. " Come and have lunch 
 with us, Fox ? " 
 
 " I'm sorry. But I must get to work. How long 
 are you going to keep Miss Warfield ? " 
 
 " As late as we can." 
 
 " To-night ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I have a chapter ready to read to her, and you 
 ask her to eat with you as if she were any every-day 
 sort of person. Did you know that she is to play 
 Beatrice to my Dante ? " 
 
 " Don't be silly," Anne said ; "you mustn't listen 
 to him, Dr. Brooks." 
 
 Richard's eyes went from one to the other. 
 "What do you know of Fox?" he asked, as they 
 drove on. 
 
 " Nothing, except that he is writing a book." 
 
 " I'll ask Eve about him ; she's a lion-hunter and 
 she's in with a lot of literary lights." 
 
 ICO
 
 SOLDIERS 4ND THEIR SOULS 
 
 Even as he spoke Evelyn was speeding toward 
 him in Philip's car. He had forgotten her and his 
 invitation for the week-end. But she had not for- 
 gotten, and she sparkled and glowed as she thought 
 of Richard's royal welcome. For how could she 
 know, as she drew near and nearer, that he was 
 welcoming another guest, taking off the little 
 teacher's old brown coat, noting the flush on her 
 young cheeks, the pretty appeal of her manner to 
 his mother. 
 
 "You are sure I won't be in the way, Mrs. 
 Brooks ? " 
 
 " My dear, my dear, of course not. Richard has 
 been telling me that your grandmother was Cynthia 
 Warfield. Did you know that my father was in 
 love with Cynthia before he married my mother?" 
 
 " The letters said so." 
 
 "I shall want to see them. And to hear about 
 your Great-uncle Rodman. We thought at one time 
 that he was going to be famous, and then came that 
 dreadful accident." 
 
 They had her in a big chair now, with a high 
 back which peaked over her head and Nancy had 
 another high-backed chair, and Richard standing 
 on the hearth-rug surveyed the two of them con- 
 tentedly. 
 
 "Mother, I am 'going to give myself fifteen min- 
 utes right here and a half hour for lunch, and then 
 I'll go out and make calls, and you and Miss War- 
 
 101
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 field can take a nap and be ready to talk to me to- 
 night." 
 
 Anne smiled up at him. " Do you always make 
 everybody mind ? " 
 
 " I try to boss mother a bit but I am not sure 
 that I succeed." 
 
 Before luncheon was served Cynthia Warfield's 
 picture, which hung in the library, was pointed out 
 to Anne. She was made to stand under it, so that 
 they might see that her hair was the same color and 
 her eyes. Cynthia was painted in pink silk with a 
 petticoat of fine lace, and with pearls in her hair. 
 
 " Some day," Anne said, " when my ship comes 
 in, I am going to wear stiff pink silk and pearls and 
 buckled slippers and yards and yards of old lace." 
 
 "No, you're not," Richard told her; "you are go- 
 ing to wear white with more than a million ruffles, 
 and little flat black shoes. Mother, you should have 
 seen her at Beulah Bower's party." 
 
 "White is always nice for a young girl," said pleas- 
 ant Nancy Brooks. 
 
 The dining-room looked out upon the river, with 
 an old-fashioned bay window curving out. The table 
 was placed near the window. Anne's eyes brightened 
 as she looked at the table. It was just as she had 
 pictured it, all twinkling glass and silver, and with 
 Richard at the head of it. But what she had not 
 pictured was the moment in which he stood to say 
 the simple and beautiful grace which his grandfather 
 
 102
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 had said years before in that room of many mem- 
 ories. 
 
 The act seemed to set him apart from other men. 
 It added dignity and strength to his youth and radi- 
 ance. He was master of a house, and he felt that 
 his house should have a soul ! 
 
 Anne, writing of it the next night to her Uncle 
 Rod, spoke of that simple grace : 
 
 " Uncle Rod, it seemed to me that while most of 
 the world was forgetting God, he was remembering 
 Him. Nobody says grace at Bower's and some- 
 times I don't even say it in my heart. He looked 
 like a saint as he stood there with the window be- 
 hind him. Wasn't there a soldier saint St. Michael ? 
 
 " Could you imagine Jimmie Ford saying grace ? 
 Could you imagine him even at the head of his own 
 table? When I used to think of marrying him, I 
 had a vision of eternal motor riding in his long blue 
 car with the world rushing by in a green streak. 
 
 " But I am not wanting much to talk of Jimmie 
 Ford. Though perhaps before I finish this I shall 
 whisper what I thought of the things you had to say 
 of him in your letter. 
 
 " Well, after lunch I had a nap, and then there was 
 dinner with David Tyson in an old-fashioned dress- 
 suit, and Mrs. Nancy in thin black with pearls, and 
 St. Michael groomed and shining. 
 
 " It was all quite like a slice of Heaven after my 
 hard days nursing Peggy. We had coffee in the 
 
 103
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 library, and then Dr. Richard and I went into the 
 music-room and I played for him. I sang the song 
 that you like about the ' Lady of the West Country ' : 
 
 " ' I think she was the most beautiful lady 
 That ever was in the West Country. 
 But beauty vanishes, beauty passes, 
 However rare, rare it be ; 
 And when I crumble who shall remember 
 That Lady of the West Country ? ' 
 
 " He liked it and made me sing it twice, and then 
 a dreadful thing happened. A motor stopped at 
 the door and some one ran up the steps. We heard 
 voices and turned around, and there were the Lovely 
 Ladies back again with the two men, and a chauffeur 
 in the background with the bags ! 
 
 " It seems that they had motored down at Dr. 
 Richard's invitation for a week-end, and that he had 
 forgotten it ! 
 
 " Of course you are asking, ' Why was it a dread- 
 ful thing, my dear?' Uncle Rod, I stood there 
 smiling a welcome at them all, and Dr. Richard 
 said : ' You know Miss Warfield, Eve,' and then she 
 said, ' Oh, yes,' in a frigid fashion, and I knew by 
 her manner that back in her mind she was remem- 
 bering that I was the girl who had waited on the 
 table 1 
 
 " Oh, you needn't tell me that I mustn't feel that 
 way, Uncle Rod. I feel it, and feel it, and feel it. 
 How can I help feeling it when I know that if I 
 
 104
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 had Evelyn Chesley's friends and Evelyn's fortune, 
 people would look on Me-Myself in quite a different 
 way. You see, they would judge me by the Out- 
 side-Person part of me, which would be soft and 
 silky and secure, and not dowdy and diffident. 
 
 " Oh, Uncle Rod, is Geoffrey Fox right ? And 
 have you and I been dreaming all these years ? The 
 rest of the world doesn't dream ; it makes money 
 and spends it, and makes money and spends it, and 
 makes money and spends it. Nobody but you and 
 I is old-fashioned enough to want sunsets ; the rest 
 of them want motor cars and yachts and trips to 
 Europe. That was what Jimmie Ford wanted, and 
 that was why he didn't want me. 
 
 "There, I have said it, Uncle Rod. Your letter 
 made me know it. Perhaps I have hoped and 
 hoped a little that he might come back to me. I 
 have made up scenes in my mind of how I would 
 scorn him and send him away, and indeed I would 
 send him away, for there isn't any love left only a 
 lot of hurt pride. 
 
 " To think that he saw you and spoke to you and 
 didn't say one word about me. And just a year ago 
 at Christmas time, do you remember, Uncle Rod ? 
 The flowers he sent, and the pearl ring and now 
 the flowers are dead, and the ring went back to him. 
 
 " Oh, I can't talk about it even to you ! 
 
 "Well, all the evening Eve Chesley held the 
 center of the stage. And the funny part of it was 
 
 105
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 that I found myself much interested in the things 
 she had to tell. Her life is a sort of Arabian Nights' 
 existence. She lives with her Aunt Maude in a big 
 house east of Central Park, and she told about the 
 green parrot for her new black and white breakfast 
 room, and the flame-colored fishes in an aquarium 
 and she is having her opals set in platinum to go 
 with a silver gown that she is to wear at the Dutton- 
 Ames dance. 
 
 " I like the Dutton-Ames. He is dark and mass- 
 ive a splendid foil for his wife's slenderness and 
 fairness. They are much in love with each other. 
 He always sits beside her if he can, and she looks up 
 at him and smiles, and last night I saw him take her 
 hand where it hung among the folds of her gown, 
 and he held it after that and it made me think of 
 father and mother and of the way they cared. 
 Jimmie Ford could never care like that but Dr. 
 Richard could. He cares that way for his mother 
 he could care for the woman he loved. 
 
 " He took me home in Mr. Meade's limousine. It 
 was moonlight, and he told the chauffeur to drive 
 the long way by the river road. 
 
 " I like him very much. He believes in things, 
 and and I rather think that his ship is packed with 
 dreams but I am not sure, Uncle Rod." 
 
 It was when Anne had come in from her moon- 
 light ride with Richard, shutting the door carefully 
 
 106
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 behind her, that she found Geoffrey Fox waiting for 
 her in the big front room. 
 
 "Oh," she stammered. 
 
 "And you really have the grace to blush? Do 
 you know what time it is?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Twelve I Midnight ! And you have been riding 
 with only the chauffeur for chaperone." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 "And you have kept me waiting. That's the 
 worst of it. You may break all of the conventional 
 commandments if you wish. But you mustn't keep 
 me waiting." 
 
 His laugh rang high, his cheeks were flushed. 
 Anne had never seen him in a mood like this. In 
 his loose coat with a flowing black tie and with his 
 ruffled hair curling close about his ears, he looked 
 boyish and handsome like the pictures she had seen 
 of Byron in an old book. 
 
 "Sit down, sit down," he was insisting; "now 
 that you are here, you must listen." 
 
 "It is too late," she demurred, "and we'll wake 
 everybody up." 
 
 "No, we shan't. The doors are shut I saw to 
 that. We are as much alone as if we were in a 
 desert. And I can't sleep until I have read that 
 chapter to you please " 
 
 Reluctantly, with her wraps on, she sat down. 
 
 " Take off your hat." 
 
 107
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 He stood over her while she removed it, and 
 helped her out of her coat. "Look at me," he 
 said, peremptorily. " I hate to read to wandering 
 eyes." 
 
 He threw himself into a chair and began : 
 
 "So they marched away young Franz from Nur- 
 emberg and young George from London, and Michel 
 straight from the vineyards on the coast of France." 
 
 That was the beginning of Geoffrey Fox's famous 
 story : " The Three Souls," the story which was to 
 bring him something of fortune as well as of fame, 
 the story which had been suggested to Anne War- 
 field by the staring eyes of Peggy's pussy cat. 
 
 As she listened, Anne saw three youths starting 
 out from home, marching gaily through the cities 
 and steadily along the roads marching, marching 
 Franz from Nuremburg, young George from Lon- 
 don, and Michel from his sunlighted vineyards, 
 drawing close and closer, unconscious of the fate 
 that was bringing them together, thinking of the 
 glory of battle, and of the honor of Kaiser and King 
 and of the Republic. 
 
 The shadow of the great conflict falls gradually 
 upon them. They meet the wounded, the refugees, 
 they hear the roar of the guns, they listen to the 
 tales of those who have been in the thick of it. 
 
 Then come privations, suffering, winter in the 
 trenches Franz on one side, young George on the 
 other, and Michel ; then righting fear 
 
 1 08
 
 SOLDIERS AND THEIR SOULS 
 
 Geoffrey stopped there. "Shall I have them 
 afraid?" 
 
 " I think they would be afraid. But they would 
 keep on fighting, and that would be heroic." 
 
 She added, " How well you do it 1 " 
 
 " This part is easy. It will be the last of it that 
 I shall find hard when I deal with their souls." 
 
 " Oh, you must show at the last that it is because 
 of their souls that they are brothers. Each man has 
 had a home, he has had love, each of them has had 
 his hopes and dreams for the future, for his middle- 
 age and his old age, and now there is to be no 
 middle-age, no old age and in their knowledge of 
 their common lot their hatred dies." 
 
 " I am afraid I can't do it," he said, moodily. " I 
 should have to swing myself out into an atmosphere 
 which I have never breatried." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh, I am of the earth earthy. I have sold my 
 birthright, I have yearned for the flesh-pots, I have 
 fed among swine. I have done all of the other 
 things which haven't Biblical sanction. And now 
 you expect me to write of souls." 
 
 " I expect you to give to the world your best. 
 You speak of your talent as if it were a little thing. 
 And it is not a little thing." 
 
 " Do you mean that ? " 
 
 " I mean that it is God given." 
 
 Out of a long silence he said : " I thank you for 
 109
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 saying that. Nobody has ever said such a thing to 
 me before." 
 
 He let her go then. And as she stood before her 
 door a little later and whispered, " Good-night," he 
 caught her hand and held it. " Mistress Anne will 
 you remember me now and then in your little 
 white prayers?" 
 
 no
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 In Which a Green-Eyed Monster Grips Eve. 
 
 EVELYN, coming down late on the morning 
 after her unexpected arrival, asked : " How did 
 you happen to have her here, Dicky ? " 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "The little waitress?" 
 
 " Eve " warningly. 
 
 " Well, then, the little school-teacher." 
 
 " Since when did you become a snob, Eve ? " 
 
 " Don't be so sharp about it, Dicky. I'm not a 
 snob. But you must admit that it was rather sur- 
 prising to find her here, when the last time I saw 
 her she was passing things at the Bower's table." 
 
 " She is a granddaughter of Cynthia Warfield." 
 
 " Who's Cynthia? I never heard of her." 
 
 " You have seen her portrait in our library." 
 
 " Which portrait ? " 
 
 He led the way and showed it to her. Eve, 
 looking at it thoughtfully, remarked, " Why should 
 a girl like that lower herself by serving ? " 
 
 " She probably doesn't feel that she can lower her- 
 self by anything. She is what she is." 
 
 She shrugged. " You know as well as I that 
 in
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 people can't do such things and get away with it. 
 She may be very nice and all that " 
 
 " She is nice." 
 
 " Well, don't lose your temper over it, and don't 
 fall in love with her, Dicky." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Haven't you done enough foolish things without 
 doing that ? " 
 
 " Doing what ? " ominously. 
 
 " Oh, you know what I mean," impatiently. 
 "Aren't you ever going to come to your senses, 
 Dicky?" 
 
 " Suppose we don't talk of it, Eve." 
 
 She found herself wanting to talk of it. She 
 wanted to rage and rant. She was astonished at 
 the primitiveness of her emotions. She had laughed 
 her way through life and had prided herself on the 
 dispassionateness of her point of view. And now it 
 was only by the exercise of the utmost self-control 
 that she was able to swing the conversation toward 
 other topics. 
 
 The coming of the rest of the party eased things 
 up a little. They had all slept late, and Richard 
 had made a half dozen calls before he had joined 
 Eve in the Garden Room. He had stopped at 
 David's, and had heard that on Monday there was 
 to be a drag-hunt and breakfast at the club. David 
 hoped they would all stay over for it. 
 
 " Cousin David has a bunch of weedy-looking 
 
 112
 
 A GREEN-EYED MONSTER 
 
 hounds," Richard explained ; " he lets them run as 
 they please, and they've been getting up a fox nearly 
 every night. He thought you might like to ride up 
 to the ridge in the moonlight and have a view of 
 them. I can get you some pretty fair mounts at 
 Bower's." 
 
 There was a note of wistful appeal in Eve's voice. 
 " Do you really want us, Dicky ? " 
 
 He smiled at her. " Of course. Don't be silly, 
 Eve." 
 
 She saw that she was forgiven, and smiled back. 
 She had not slept much the night before. She had 
 heard Richard come in after his ride with Anne, and 
 she had been waked later by the sound of the tele- 
 phone. In the room next to hers Richard's subdued 
 voice had answered. And presently there had been 
 the sound of his careful footsteps on the stairs. 
 
 She had crept out of bed and between the curtains 
 had looked out. The world was full of the shadowy 
 paleness which comes with the waning of the moon. 
 The road beyond the garden showed like a dull gray 
 ribbon against the blackness of the hills. On this 
 road appeared presently Richard on his big white 
 horse, the dog Toby, a shadow among the shadows 
 as he ran on ahead of them. 
 
 On and on they sped up the dull gray road, a 
 spectral rider on a spectral horse. She had won- 
 dered where he might be going. It must have been 
 some sudden and urgent call to take him out thus
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 in the middle of the night. For the first time she 
 realized what his life meant. He could never really 
 be at his ease. Always there was before him the 
 possibility of some dread adventure death might 
 be on its way at this very moment. 
 
 Wide-awake and wrapped in her great rug, she 
 had waited, and after a time Richard had returned. 
 The dawn was rising on the hills, and the world was 
 pink. His head was up and he was urging his 
 horse to a swift gallop. 
 
 When at last he reached his room, she had gone 
 to bed. But when she slept it was to dream that 
 the man on the white horse was riding away from 
 her, and that when she called he would not come. 
 
 But now with his smile upon her, she decided that 
 she was making too much of it all. The affair with 
 the little school-teacher might not be in the least 
 serious. Men had their fancies, and Dicky was not 
 a fool. 
 
 She knew her power over him, and her charm. 
 His little boyhood had been heavy with sorrow and 
 soberness ; she had lightened it by her gaiety and 
 good nature. Eve had taken her orphaned state 
 philosophically. Her parents had died before she 
 knew them. Her Aunt Maude was rich and gave 
 her everything ; she was queen of her small domain. 
 Richard, on the other hand, had been early op- 
 pressed by anxieties his care for his strong little 
 mother, his real affection for his weak father, oil- 
 
 114
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 minating in the tragedy which had come during his 
 college days. In all the years Eve had been his 
 good comrade and companion. She had cheered 
 him, commanded him, loved him. 
 
 And he had loved her. He had never analyzed 
 the quality of his love. She was his good friend, 
 his sister. If he had ever thought of her as his 
 sweetheart or as his wife, it had always been with 
 the feeling that Eve had too much money. No man 
 had a right to live on his wife's bounty. 
 
 He had a genuinely happy day with her. He 
 showed her the charming old house which she had 
 never seen. He showed her the schoolhouse, still 
 closed on account of the epidemic. He showed her 
 the ancient ballroom built out in a separate wing. 
 
 " A little money would make it lovely, Richard." 
 
 " It is lovely without the money." 
 
 Winifred Ames spoke earnestly from the window 
 where, with her husband's arm about her, she was 
 observing the sunset. " Some day Tony and I are 
 going to have a house like this and then we'll be 
 happy." 
 
 "Aren't you happy now?" her husband de- 
 manded. 
 
 " Yes. But not on my own plan, as it were." 
 Then softly so that no one else could hear, " I want 
 just you, Tony and all the rest of the world away." 
 
 " Dear Heart " He dared not say more, for 
 
 Pip's envious eyes were upon them.
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " When I marry you, Eve, may I hold your hand 
 in public ? " 
 
 " You may when I marry you." 
 
 " Good. Whenever I lose faith in the bliss of 
 matrimony, I have only to look at Win and Tony 
 to be cheered and sustained by their example." 
 
 Nancy, playing the little lovely hostess, agreed. 
 " If they weren't so new-fashioned in every way I 
 should call them an old-fashioned couple." 
 
 " Love is never out of fashion, Mrs. Nancy," said 
 Eve ; " is it, Dicky Boy ? " 
 
 " Ask Pip." 
 
 " Love," said Philip solemnly, " is the newest 
 thing in the world and the oldest. Each lover is a 
 Columbus discovering an unknown continent." 
 
 In the hall the old clock chimed. " Nobody is to 
 dress for dinner," Richard said, " if we are to ride 
 afterward. I'll telephone for the horses." 
 
 He telephoned and rode down later on his big 
 Ben to bring the horses up. As he came into the 
 yard at Bower's he saw a light in the old stable. 
 Dismounting, he went to the open door. Anne was 
 with Diogenes. The lantern was set on the step 
 above her, and she was feeding the old drake. Her 
 body was in the shadow, her face luminous. Yet 
 it was a sober little face, set with tired lines. Look- 
 ing at her, Richard reached a sudden determina- 
 tion. 
 
 He would ask her to ride with them to the ridge. 
 116
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 At the sound of his voice she turned and her face 
 changed. " Did I startle you ? " he asked. 
 
 " No," she smiled at him. " Only I was thinking 
 about you, and there you were." There was no 
 coquetry in her tone ; she stated the fact frankly and 
 simply. " Do you remember how you put Toby in 
 here, and how Diogenes hated it?" 
 
 "I remember how you looked under the lan- 
 tern." 
 
 " Oh," she had not expected that, " do you ? " 
 
 " Yes. But I had seen you before. You were 
 standing on a rock with holly in your arms. I saw 
 you from the train throw something into the river. 
 I have often wondered what it was." 
 
 " I didn't want to burn my holly wreaths after 
 Christmas. I hate to burn things that have been 
 alive." 
 
 "So do I. Eve would say that we were senti- 
 mentalists. But I have never quite been able to see 
 why a sentimentalist isn't quite as worthy of respect 
 as a materialist however, I am not here to argue 
 that. I want you to ride with me to the ridge. To 
 see the foxes by moonlight," he further elucidated. 
 " Run in and get ready. I am to take some horses 
 up for the others." 
 
 She rose and reached for her lantern. "The 
 others ? " she looked an inquiry over her shoulder. 
 
 " Eve and her crowd. They are still at Cross- 
 roads." 
 
 117
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 She stood irresolute. Then, " I think I'd rather 
 not go." 
 
 " Why not ? " sharply. 
 
 She told him the truth bravely. " I am a little 
 afraid of women like that" 
 
 " Of Eve and Winifred ? Why ? " 
 
 " We are people of two worlds, Dr. Brooks and 
 they feel it." 
 
 His conversation with Eve recurring to him, he 
 was not prepared to argue. But he was prepared to 
 have his own way. 
 
 " Isn't your world mine ? " he demanded. " And 
 you mustn't mind Eve. She's all right when you 
 know her. Just stiffen your backbone, and remem- 
 ber that you are the granddaughter of Cynthia 
 Warfield." 
 
 After that she gave in and came down presently 
 in a shabby little habit with her hair tied with a 
 black bow. " It's a good thing it is dark," she said. 
 " I haven't any up-to-date clothes." 
 
 As they went along he asked her to go to the 
 hunt breakfast on Monday. 
 
 " I can't. School opens and my work begins." 
 
 " By Jove, I had forgotten. I shall be glad to 
 hear the bell. When I am riding over the hills it 
 seems to call as it called to my grandfather and to 
 be saying the same things ; it is a great inspiration 
 to have a background like that to one's life. Do 
 you know what I mean?" 
 
 118
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 She did know, and they talked about it these two 
 young and eager souls to whom life spoke of things 
 to be done, and done well. 
 
 Eve, standing on the steps at Crossroads, saw 
 them coming. " Oh, I'm not going," she said to 
 Winifred passionately. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " He has that girl with him." 
 
 " What girl ? " 
 
 " Anne Warfield." 
 
 Winifred's eyes opened wide. " She's a darling, 
 Eve. I liked her so much last night." 
 
 " I don't see why he has to bring her into every- 
 thing." 
 
 " All the men are in love with her ; even Tony has 
 eyes for her, and Pip " 
 
 " What makes you defend her, Win ? She isn't 
 one of us, and you know it." 
 
 " I don't know it. She belongs to older stock 
 than either you or I, Eve. And if she didn't, don't 
 you know a lady when you see one ? " 
 
 Eve threw up her hands. " I sometimes think 
 the world is going mad there aren't any more lines 
 drawn." 
 
 " If there were," said Winifred softly, and perhaps 
 a bit maliciously, " I fancy that Anne Warfield might 
 be the one to draw them and leayje us on the wrong 
 side, Eve." 
 
 It was Winifred who welcomed Anne, and who 
 119
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 rode beside her later, and it was of Winifred that 
 Anne spoke repentantly as she and Richard rode 
 together in the hills. " I want to take back the 
 things I said about Mrs. Ames. She is just 
 heavenly sweet." 
 
 He smiled. " I knew you would like her," he 
 said. But neither of them mentioned Eve. 
 
 For Evelyn's manner had been insufferable. Anne 
 might have been a shadow on the grass, a cloud 
 across the sky, a stone in the road for all the notice 
 she had taken of her. It was a childish thing to do, 
 but then Eve was childish. And she was having 
 the novel experience of being overlooked for the first 
 time by Richard. She was aware, too, that she had 
 offended him deeply and that the cause of her offend- 
 ing was another woman. 
 
 When they came to the ridge Richard drew Anne's 
 horse, with his own, among the trees. He left Eve 
 to Pip. Winifred and her husband were with David. 
 
 Far off in the distance a steady old hound gave 
 tongue then came the music of the pack the 
 swift silent figure of the fox, straight across the open 
 moonlighted space in front of them. 
 
 Anne gave a little gasp. " It is old Pete," Richard 
 murmured ; " they'll never catch him. I'll tell you 
 about him on the way down." 
 
 So as he rode beside her after that perfect hour in 
 which the old fox played with the tumultuous pack, 
 at his ease, monarch of his domain, unmindful of 
 
 120
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 silent watchers in the shadows, Richard told her of old 
 Pete ; he told her, too, of the traditions of a ghostly 
 fox who now and then troubled the hounds, leading 
 them into danger and sometimes to death. 
 
 He went on with her to Bower's, and when he 
 left her he handed her a feathery bit of pine. " I 
 picked it on the ridge," he said. " I don't know 
 whether you feel as I do about the scrub pines of 
 Maryland and of Virginia ; somehow they seem to 
 belong, as you and I do, to this country." 
 
 When Anne went to her room she stuck the bit 
 of pine in her mirror. Then in an uplifted mood 
 she wrote to Uncle Rod. But she said little to him 
 of Richard or of Eve. Her own feelings were too 
 mixed in the matter to permit of analysis. But she 
 told of the fox in the moonlight. " And the loveliest 
 part of it all was that nothing happened to him. I 
 don't think that I could have stood it to have had 
 him killed. He was so free and unafraid " 
 
 The next nrght Anne in the long front room at 
 Bower's told Peggy and Frangois all about it. 
 Frangois' mother was sewing for Mrs. Bower, and as 
 the distance was great, and she could not go home 
 at night, her small son was sharing with her the 
 hospitality which seemed to him rich and royal in 
 comparison with the economies practised in his own 
 small home. 
 
 It was a select company which was gathered in 
 121
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 front of the fire. Frangois and Peggy and Anne and 
 old Mamie, with the white house cat, Josephine, and 
 three kittens in a basket, and Brinsley Tyson smok- 
 ing his pipe in the background. 
 
 " And the old fox went tit-upping and tit-upping 
 along the road in the moonlight, and Dr. Richard 
 and I stood very still, and we saw him " 
 
 " Last night ? " 
 
 Anne nodded. 
 
 " And what did you do, Miss Anne ? " 
 
 " We listened and heard the dogs " 
 
 Little Frangois clasped his hands. " Oh, were the 
 dogs after him ? " 
 
 yes." 
 
 " Did they get him ? " 
 
 " No. He is a wise old fox. He lives up beyond 
 the Crossroads garden. Dr. Brooks thought when 
 they came there to live that he would go away but 
 he hasn't. You see, it is his home. The hunters 
 here all know him, and they are always glad when 
 he gets away." 
 
 Brinsley agreed. " There are so few native foxes 
 left in the county that most of us call off the dogs 
 before a killing we'd soon be without sport if we 
 didn't. An imported fox is a creature in a trap ; you 
 want the sly old natives to give you a run for your 
 money." 
 
 Little Francois, dark-eyed and dreamy, delivered 
 an energetic opinion. " I think it is horrid." 
 
 122
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 Peggy, less sensitive, and of the country, reproved 
 him. " It's gentleman's sport, isn't it, Mr. Brinsley ? " 
 
 " Yes. To me the dogs and horses are the best 
 part of it. The older I grow the more I hate to kill 
 that's why I fish. They are cold-blooded creatures." 
 
 Peggy, leaning on his knee, demanded a fish story. 
 " The one you told us the last time." 
 
 Brinsley's fish story was a poem written by one of 
 the Old Gentlemen, hunting now, it was to be hoped, 
 in happier fields. It was an idyl of the Chesapeake : 
 
 " In the Chesapeake and its tribute streams, 
 Where broadening out to the bay they come, 
 And the great fresh waters meet the brine, 
 There lives a fish that is called the drum." 
 
 The drum fish and an old negro, Ned, were the 
 actors in the drama. Ned, fishing one day in his 
 dug-out canoe, 
 
 " Tied his line to his ankle tight, 
 To be ready to haul if the fish should bite, 
 And seized his fiddle " 
 
 He played : 
 
 " But slower and slower he drew the bow, 
 And soft grew the music sweet and low, 
 The lids fell wearily over the eyes, 
 The bow arm stopped and the melodies. 
 The last strain melted along the deep, 
 And Ned, the old fisherman, sank to sleep. 
 Just then a huge drum, sent hither by fate, 
 Caught a passing glimpse of the tempting bait. . . . 
 
 123
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 . . . . One terrible jerk of wrath and dread 
 
 From the wounded fish as away he sped 
 
 With a strength by rage made double 
 
 And into the water went old Ned. 
 
 No time for any last words ' to be said, 
 
 For the waves settled placidly over his head, 
 
 And his last remark was a bubble." 
 
 The children's eyes were wide. Peggy was en- 
 tranced, but Frangois was not so sure that he liked 
 it. Brinsley's hand dropped on the little lad's shoul- 
 der as he told how the two were found 
 
 " So looped and tangled together 
 That their fate was involved in a dark mystery 
 As to which was the catcher and which the 
 
 catchee . . . 
 And the fishermen thought it could never be 
 
 known 
 
 After all their thinking and figuring, 
 Whether the nigger a-fishing had gone, 
 Or the fish had gone out a-niggering." 
 
 There were defects in meter and rhythm, but 
 Brinsley's sprightly delivery made these of minor 
 importance, and the company had no criticism. 
 Frangois, shivering a little, admitted that he wanted 
 to hear it again, and climbed to Brinsley's knee. 
 The old man with his arm about him decided that to 
 say it over would be to spoil the charm, and that 
 anyhow the time had come to pop the corn. 
 
 To Frangois this was a new art, but when he had 
 followed the fascinating process through all its stages 
 until the white grains boiled up in the popper and 
 
 124
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 threatened to burst the cover, his rapture knew no 
 bounds. 
 
 "Could I do it myself, Miss Anne?" he asked, 
 and she let him empty the snowy kernels into a big 
 bowl, and fill the popper for a second supply. 
 
 She bent above him, showing him how to shake it 
 steadily. 
 
 Geoffrey Fox coming in smiled at the scene. 
 How far away it seemed from anything modern 
 this wide hearth-stone with the dog and the pussy 
 cat and the little children, the lovely girl and the 
 old man the wind blowing outside the corn pop- 
 ping away like little pistols. 
 
 " May I have some ? " he asked, and Anne smiled 
 up at him, while Peggy brought little plates and set 
 the big bowl on a stool within reach of them all. 
 
 "What brings you up, sir?" Geoffrey asked 
 Brinsley. 
 
 " The drag-hunt and breakfast at the club. I am 
 too stiff to follow, but David and I like to meet old 
 friends you see I was born in this country." 
 
 That was the beginning of a string of reminis- 
 cences to which they all listened breathlessly. The 
 fox hunting instinct was an inheritance in this part 
 of the country. It had its traditions and legends 
 and Brinsley knew them all. 
 
 If any one had told Geoffrey Fox a few weeks 
 before that he would be content to spend his time as 
 he was spending it now, writing all day and reading 
 
 125
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 the chapters at night to a serious-eyed little school- 
 teacher who scolded him and encouraged him by 
 turns, he would have scoffed at such an impossible 
 prospect. Yet he was not only doing it, but was 
 glad to be swept away from the atmosphere of some- 
 what sordid Bohemianism with which he had in 
 these later years been surrounded. 
 
 And as Brinsley talked, Geoffrey watched Anne. 
 She had Peggy in her arms. Such women were 
 made, he felt, to be not only the mothers of children, 
 but the mothers of the men they loved made for 
 brooding tenderness to inspire to sympathize. 
 
 Yet with all her gentleness he knew that Anne was 
 a strong little thing. She would never be a clinging 
 vine ; she was rather like a rose high on a trellis 
 a man must reach up to draw her to him. 
 
 As she glanced up, he smiled at her, and she 
 smiled back. Then the smile froze. 
 
 Framed in the front doorway stood Eve Chesley 1 
 She came straight to Anne and held out her hand. 
 " I made Richard bring me down," she said. " I 
 want to talk to you about the Crossroads ball." 
 
 Eve repentant was Eve in her most charming 
 mood. On Sunday morning she had apologized to 
 Richard. " I was horrid, Dicky." 
 
 "Last night? You were. I wouldn't have be- 
 lieved it of you, Eve." 
 
 "Oh, well, don't be a prig. Do you remember 
 how we used to make up after a quarrel ? " 
 
 126
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 He laughed. " We had to go down on our 
 knees." 
 
 She went down on hers, sinking slowly and grace- 
 fully to the floor. " Please, I'm sorry." 
 
 " Eve, will you ever grow up ? " 
 
 "I don't want to grow up," wistfully. "Dicky, 
 do you remember that after I had said I was sorry 
 you always bought chocolate drops, and made me 
 eat them all. You were such a good little boy, 
 Richard." 
 
 " I was not," hotly. 
 
 " Why is it that men don't like to be told that 
 they were good little boys ? You are a good little 
 boy now." 
 
 " I'm not." 
 
 "You are and you are tied to your mother's 
 apron strings." 
 
 " Dicky," she wailed, as he rose in wrath, " I 
 didn't mean that. Honestly. And I'll be good." 
 
 Still, with her feet tucked under her, she sat on 
 the floor. " I've been thinking " 
 
 " Yes, Eve." 
 
 " You and I have a birthday in March. Why 
 can't we have a big house-warming, and ask all the 
 county families and a lot of people from town ? " 
 
 " I'm not a millionaire, Eve." 
 
 " Neither am I. But there's always Aunt Maude." 
 
 She spread out her hands, palms upward. "All I 
 shall have to do is to wheedle her a bit, and she'll 
 
 127
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 give it to me for a birthday present. Please, Dicky. 
 If you say ' yes ' I'll go down to Bower's my very 
 own self and ask Anne Warfield to come to our 
 ball." 
 
 He stared at her incredulously. "You'll do 
 what ? " 
 
 " Ask your little school-teacher. Win scolded me 
 last night, and said that I was a selfish pig. That I 
 couldn't expect to keep you always to myself. But 
 you see I have kept you, Dicky. I have always 
 thought that you and I could go on being friends, 
 with no one to break in on it." 
 
 Her eyes as she raised them to his were shadowed. 
 He spoke heartily. " My dear girl, as if anything 
 could ever come between us." He rose and drew 
 her up from her lowly seat. " I'm glad we talked it 
 out. I confess I was feeling pretty sore over the 
 way you acted, Eve. It wasn't like you." 
 
 Eve stuck to her resolution to go to Bower's 
 to seek out and conciliate Anne, and thus it hap- 
 pened that they found her making a Madonna of 
 herself with Peggy in her arms, and Geoffrey Fox's 
 eyes adoring her. 
 
 Little Francois told his mother later that at first he 
 had thought the lovely lady was a fairy princess ; for 
 Eve was quite sumptuous in her dinner gown of 
 white and shining satin, with a fur-trimmed wrap 
 of white and silver. She wore, also, a princess air 
 of graciousness, quite different from the half appeal- 
 
 128
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 ing impertinence of her morning mood when she had 
 knelt at Richard's feet. 
 
 Anne, appeased and fascinated by the warmth of 
 Eve's manner, found herself drawn in spite of her- 
 self to the charming creature who discussed so frankly 
 her plans for their pleasure. 
 
 " Dicky and I were born on the same day," she 
 explained, "and we always have a party together, 
 with two cakes with candles, and this year it is to be 
 at Crossroads." 
 
 She invited Brinsley and Geoffrey on the spot, 
 and promised the children a peep into fairy-land. 
 Then having settled the matter to the satisfaction of 
 all concerned, she demanded a fresh popper of corn, 
 insisted on a repetition of Brinsley's fish story, asked 
 about Geoffrey's book, and went away leaving be- 
 hind her a trail of laughter and light-heartedness. 
 
 Later Anne was aware that she had left also a feel- 
 ing of bewilderment. It seemed incredible that the 
 distance between the mood of last night and of to- 
 night should have been bridged so successfully. 
 
 Brushing her hair in front of the mirror, she asked 
 herself, " How much of it was real friendliness ? " 
 Uncle Rod had a proverb, " ' A false friend has 
 honey in his mouth, gall in his heart? ' 
 
 She chided herself for her mistrust. One must not 
 inquire too much into motives. 
 
 The sight of Richard's bit of pine in the mirror 
 frame shed a gleam of naturalness across the strange- 
 
 129
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 ness of the hour just spent. It seemed to say, " You 
 
 and I of the country " 
 
 Eve was of the town 1 
 
 The weeks which followed were rare ones. Anne 
 went forth joyous in the morning, and came home 
 joyous at night She saw Richard daily ; now on 
 the road, again in the schoolhouse, less often, but 
 most satisfyingly, by the fire at Bower's. 
 
 Geoffrey, noting jealously these evenings that 
 the young doctor spent in the long front room, at 
 last spoke his mind. 
 
 " What makes you look like that?" he demanded, 
 as having watched Richard safely out of the way 
 from an upper window, he came down to find Anne 
 gazing dreamily into the coals. 
 
 "Like what?" 
 
 " Oh, a sort of seventh-heaven look." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean." 
 
 " You won't admit that you know what I mean." 
 
 She rose. 
 
 " Sit down. I want to read to you." 
 
 " I am afraid I haven't time." 
 
 " You had time for Brooks. If you don't let me 
 read to you I shall have to sit all alone in the 
 dark my eyes are hurting me." 
 
 " Why don't you ask Dr. Brooks about your 
 eyes ? " 
 
 " Is Dr. Brooks the oracle ? " 
 130
 
 A GREEN-EYED MONSTER 
 
 " He could tell you about your eyes." 
 
 " Does he tell you about yours ? " 
 
 With a scornful glance she left him, but he fol- 
 lowed her. " Why shouldn't he tell you about your 
 eyes? They are lovely eyes, Mistress Anne." 
 
 " I hate to have you talk like that. It seems to 
 separate me in some way from your friendship, and 
 I thought we were friends." 
 
 Her gentleness conquered his mad mood. " Oh, 
 you little saint, you little saint, and I am such a 
 sinner." 
 
 So they patched it up, and he read to her the last 
 chapter of his book. 
 
 " And noiv in the darkness they lay dying, young 
 Frans from Nuremberg, and young George from 
 London, and Michel straight from the vineyards on 
 the coast of France" 
 
 In the darkness they spoke of their souls. Soon 
 they would go out into the Great Beyond. What 
 then, after death ? Franz thought they might go 
 marching on. Young George had a vision of green 
 fields and of hawthorn hedges. But it was young 
 Michel who spoke of the face of God. 
 
 Was this the Geoffrey who had teased her on the 
 stairs ? This man who wrote words which made one 
 shake and shiver and sob ? 
 
 " Oh, how do you do it, how do you do it ? " The 
 tears were running down her cheeks.
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 She saw him then as people rarely saw Geoffrey 
 Fox. " God knows," he said, seriously, " but I think 
 that your prayers have helped." 
 
 And after she had gone up-stairs he sat long by 
 the fire, alone, with his hand shading his eyes. 
 
 The next morning he went to see Richard. The 
 young doctor was in the Garden Room which he 
 used as an office. It was on the ground floor of the 
 big house, with a deer's horns over the fireplace, an 
 ancient desk in one corner, a sideboard against the 
 north wall. In days gone by this room had served 
 many purposes. Here men in hunting pink had 
 gathered for the gay breakfasts which were to fortify 
 them for their sport. On the sideboard mighty 
 roasts had been carved, and hot dishes had steamed. 
 On the round table had been set forth bottles and 
 glasses on Sheffield trays. Men ate much and rode 
 hard. They had left to their descendants a divided 
 heritage of indigestion and of strong sinews, to make 
 of it what they could. 
 
 Geoffrey entering asked at once, " Why the 
 Garden Room ? There is no garden." 
 
 " There was a garden," Richard told him, " but 
 there is a tradition that a pair of lovers eloped 
 over the wall, and the irate father destroyed every 
 flower, every shrub, as if the garden had betrayed 
 him." 
 
 " There's a story in that. Did the girl ever come 
 back to find the garden dead ? " 
 
 132
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 "Who knows?" Richard said lightly; "and now, 
 what's the matter with your eyes ? " 
 
 There was much the matter, and when Richard 
 had made a thorough examination he spoke of a 
 specialist. " Have you ever had trouble with them 
 before ? " 
 
 " Once, when I was a youngster. I thought I was 
 losing my sight. I used to open my eyes in the 
 dark and think that the curse had come upon me. 
 My grandfather was blind." 
 
 " It is rarely inherited, and not in this form. But 
 there might be a predisposition. Anyhow, you'll 
 have to stop work for a time." 
 
 " I can't stop work. My book is in the last chap- 
 ters. And it is a great book. I've never written a 
 great book before. I can talk freely to you, doctor. 
 You know that we artists can't help our egotism. 
 It's a disease that is easily diagnosed." 
 
 Richard laughed. " What's the name of your 
 book ? " 
 
 " ' Three Souls.' Anne Warfield gave me the 
 theme." 
 
 As he spoke her name it was like a living flame 
 between them. Richard tried to answer naturally. 
 "She ought to be able to. write books herself." 
 
 Geoffrey shrugged. "She will live her life stories, 
 not write them." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Because we men don't let such women live their 
 133
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 own lives. We demand their service and the in- 
 spiration of their sympathy. And so we won't let 
 them achieve. We make them light our torches. 
 We are selfish beasts, you know, in the last anal- 
 ysis." 
 
 He laughed and rose. " I'll see a specialist. But 
 nobody shall make me stop writing. Not till I have 
 scribbled ' Finis ' to my manuscript." 
 
 " It isn't well to defy nature." 
 
 " Defiance is better than submission. Nature's a 
 cruel jade. You know that. In the end she gets us 
 all. That's why I hate the country. It's there that 
 we see Nature unmasked. I stayed three weeks at 
 a farm last summer, and from morning to night 
 murder went on. A cat killed a cardinal, and a blue 
 jay killed a grosbeak. One of the servants shot a 
 squirrel. And when I walked out one morning to 
 see the sheep, a lamb was gone and we had a roast 
 with mint sauce for dinner. For lunch we had the 
 squirrel in a stew. A hawk swept down upon the 
 chickens, and all that escaped we ate later fried, 
 with cream gravy." 
 
 " In most of your instances man was the offender." 
 
 "Well, if man didn't kill, something else would. 
 For every lamb there's a wolf." 
 
 " You are looking on only one side of it." 
 
 " When you can show me the other I'll believe in 
 it. But not to-day when you tell me that my sun 
 may be blotted out." 
 
 134
 
 A GREEN-ETED MONSTER 
 
 Something in his voice made the young doctor 
 lay his hand on his shoulder and say quietly : " My 
 dear fellow, don't begin to dread that which may 
 never come. There should be years of light before 
 you. Only you'll have to be careful." 
 
 They stood now in the door of the Garden Room. 
 The sun was shining, the snow was melting. There 
 was the acrid smell of box from the hedge beyond. 
 
 " I hate caution," said young Geoffrey ; " I want 
 to do as I please." 
 
 " So does every man," said Richard, " but life 
 teaches him that he can't." 
 
 " Oh, Life," scoffed Geoffrey Fox ; " life isn't a 
 school. It is a joy ride, with rocks ahead." 
 
 135
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 In Which Anne, Passing a Shop, Turns In. 
 
 ANNE had the Crossroads ball much on her 
 mind. She spoke to Beulah about it. 
 
 " I don't know what to wear." 
 
 " You'd better go to town with me on Saturday 
 and look for something." 
 
 " Perhaps I will. If I had plenty of money it 
 would be easy. Beulah, did you ever see such 
 clothes as Eve Chesley's?" 
 
 " If I could spend as much as she does, I'd make 
 more of a show." 
 
 " Think of all the tailors and dressmakers and 
 dancing masters and hair-dressers it has taken to 
 make Eve what she is. And yet all the art is 
 hidden." 
 
 " I don't think it is hidden. I saw her powder her 
 nose right in front of the men that day she first 
 came. She had a little gold case with a mirror in 
 it, and while Dr. Brooks and Mr. Fox were sitting 
 on the stairs with her, she took it out and looked at 
 herself and rubbed some rouge on her cheeks." 
 
 Anne had a vision of the three of them sitting 
 136
 
 PASSING A SHOP 
 
 on the stairs. "Well," she said, in a fierce little 
 fashion, " I don't know what the world is coming 
 to." 
 
 Beulah cared little about Eve's world. For the 
 moment Eric filled her horizon, and the dress she 
 was to get to make herself pretty for him. 
 
 "Shall we go Saturday?" she asked. 
 
 Anne, rummaging in the drawer of her desk, 
 produced a small and shabby pocketbook. She 
 shook the money out and counted it. " With the 
 check that Uncle Rod sent me," she said, " there's 
 enough for a really lovely frock. But I don't know 
 whether I ought to spend it." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 "Everybody ought to save something I am 
 teaching my children to have penny banks and 
 yet I go on spending and spending with nothing to 
 show for it." 
 
 Beulah was quite placid. "I don't see why you 
 should save. Some day you will get married, and 
 then you won't have to." 
 
 " If a woman marries a poor man she ought to be 
 careful of finances. She has to think of her children 
 and of their future." 
 
 Beulah shrugged. " What's the use of looking so 
 far ahead ? And 'most any husband will see that his 
 wife doesn't get too much to spend." 
 
 Before Anne went to bed that night she put a part 
 of her small store of money into a separate compart- 
 
 137
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 ment of her purse. She would buy a cheaper frock 
 and save herself the afterpangs of extravagance 
 And the penny banks of the children would no 
 longer accuse her of inconsistency 1 
 
 The shopping expedition proved a strenuous one. 
 Anne had fixed her mind on certain things which 
 proved to be too expensive. "You go for your 
 fitting," she said to Beulah desperately, as the after- 
 noon waned, " and I will take a last look up Charles 
 Street. We can meet at the train." 
 
 The way which she had to travel was a familiar 
 one, but its charm held her the street lights glim- 
 mered pale gold in the early dusk, the crowd swung 
 along in its brisk city manner toward home. Beyond 
 the shops was the Cardinal's house. The Monument 
 topped the hill ; to its left the bronze lions guarded 
 the great square ; to the right there was the thin 
 spire of the Methodist Church. 
 
 She had an hour before train time and she lingered 
 a little, stopping at this window and that, and all the 
 time the money which she had elected to save burned 
 a hole in her pocket. 
 
 For there were such things to buy I Passing a 
 flower shop there were violets and roses. Passing 
 a candy shop were chocolates. Passing a hat shop 
 there was a veil flung like a cloud over a celestial cha- 
 peau ! Passing an Everything-that-is-Lovely shop 
 she saw an enchanting length of silk as pink as a 
 sea-shell silk like that which Cynthia Warfield had 
 
 138
 
 PASSING A SHOP 
 
 worn when she sat for the portrait which hung in 
 the library at Crossroads 1 
 
 Anne did not pass the Lovely Shop ; she turned 
 and went in, and bought ten yards of silk with the 
 money that she had meant to spend and the money 
 she had meant to save 1 
 
 And she missed the train ! 
 
 Beulah was waiting for her as she came in breath- 
 less. "There isn't another train for two hours," she 
 complained. 
 
 Anne sank down on a bench. " I am sorry, 
 Beulah. I didn't know it was so late." 
 
 " We'll have to get supper in the station," Beulah 
 said, " and I have spent all my money." 
 
 " Oh, and I've spent mine." Anne reflected that 
 if she had not bought the silk she could have paid 
 for Beulah's supper. But she was glad that she had 
 bought it, and that she had it under her arm in a 
 neat package. 
 
 She dug into her slim purse and produced a dime. 
 " Never mind, Beulah, we can buy some chocolates." 
 
 But they were not destined for such meager fare. 
 Rushing into the station came Geoffrey Fox. As he 
 saw the clock he stopped with the air of a man 
 baffled by fate. 
 
 Anne moving toward him across the intervening 
 space saw his face change. 
 
 " By all that's wonderful," he said, " how did this 
 happen?" 
 
 139
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 44 We missed our train." 
 
 41 And I missed mine. Who is 4 we ' ? " 
 
 " Beulah is with me." 
 
 41 Can't you both have dinner with me somewhere ? 
 There are two hours of waiting ahead of us." 
 
 Anne demurred. " I'm not very hungry." 
 
 But Beulah, who had joined them, was hungry, 
 and she said so, frankly. " I am starved. If I could 
 have just a sandwich " 
 
 44 You shall have more than that. We'll have a 
 feast and a frolic. Let me check your parcels, 
 Mistress Anne." 
 
 Back they went to the golden-lighted streets and 
 turning down toward the city they reached at last 
 the big hotel which has usurped the place of the 
 stately and substantial edifices which were once the 
 abodes of ancient and honorable families. 
 
 Within were soft lights and the sound of music. 
 The rugs were thick, and there was much marble. 
 As they entered the dining-room, they seemed to 
 move through a golden haze. It was early, and most 
 of the tables were empty. 
 
 Beulah was rapturous. 44 1 have always wanted to 
 come here. It is perfectly lovely." 
 
 The attentive waiter at Geoffrey's elbow was being 
 
 told to bring Anne's quick ear caught the 
 
 word. 
 
 44 No, please," she said at once, 4< not for Beulah 
 and me." 
 
 140
 
 PASSING A SHOP 
 
 His keen glance commanded her. "Of course 
 not," he said, easily. Presently he had the whole 
 matter of the menu settled, and could talk to Anne. 
 She was enjoying it all immensely and said so. 
 
 " I should like to do this sort of thing every day." 
 
 " Heaven forbid. You would lose your dreams, 
 and grow self-satisfied and fat like that woman 
 over there." 
 
 Anne shuddered. "It isn't that she is fat it's 
 her eyes, and the way she makes up." 
 
 " That is the way they get when they live in 
 places like this. If you want to be slender and 
 lovely and keep your dreams you must teach 
 school." 
 
 " Oh, but there's drudgery in that." 
 
 " It is the people who drudge who dream. They 
 don't know it, but they do. People who have all 
 they want learn that there is nothing more for life to 
 give. And they drink and take drugs to bring back 
 the illusions they have lost." 
 
 They fell into silence after that, and then it was 
 Beulah who became voluble. Her fair round face 
 beamed. It was a common little face, but it was 
 good and honest. Beulah was having the time of 
 her life. She did not know that she owed her good 
 fortune to Anne, that if Anne had not been there, 
 Geoffrey would not have asked her to dine. But 
 if she had known it, she would not have cared. 
 
 " What train did you come in on ? " she asked. 
 141
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " At noon. Brooks thought I ought to see a 
 specialist. He doesn't give me much encourage- 
 ment about my eyes. He wants me to stop writing, 
 but I shan't until I get through with my book." 
 
 He spoke recklessly, but Anne saw the shadow on 
 his face. " You aren't telling us how really serious it 
 is," she said, as Beulah's attention was diverted. 
 
 " It is so serious that for the first time in my life I 
 know myself to be a coward. Last night I lay in 
 bed with my eyes shut to see how it would seem to 
 be blind. It was a pretty morbid thing to do and 
 this morning finished me." 
 
 She tried to speak her sympathy, but could not. 
 Her eyes were full of tears. 
 
 " Don't," he said, softly, " my good little friend 
 my good little friend." 
 
 She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. The 
 unconscious Beulah, busy with her oysters, asked : 
 "Is the Tobasco too hot? I'm all burning up with 
 it." 
 
 Geoffrey was able later to speak lightly of his 
 affliction. "I shall go to the Brooks ball as a Blind 
 Beggar." 
 
 " Oh, how can you make fun of it ? " 
 
 " It is better to laugh than to cry. But your tears 
 were a benediction." 
 
 Silence fell between them, and after a while he 
 asked, " What shall you wear ? " 
 
 " To the ball ? Pink silk. A heavenly pink. I 
 142
 
 PASSING A SHOP 
 
 have just bought it, and I paid more than I should 
 for it." 
 
 " Such extravagance I " 
 
 " I'm to be Cynthia Warfield like the portrait in 
 the Crossroads library of my grandmother. It came 
 to me when I saw the silk in the shop window. I 
 shall have to do without the pearls, but I have the 
 lace flounces. They were left to my mother." 
 
 " And so Cinderella will go to the ball, and dance 
 with the Prince. Is Brooks the Prince ? " 
 
 She flushed, and evaded. " I can't dance Not 
 the new dances." 
 
 " I can teach you if you'll let me." 
 
 "Really?" 
 
 "Yes. But you must pay. You must give the 
 Blind Beggar the first dance and as many more as 
 he demands." 
 
 " But I can't dance all of them with you." 
 
 " You can dance some of them. And that's my 
 price." 
 
 To promise him dances seemed to her quite de- 
 licious and delightful since she could not dance at 
 all. But he made a little contract and had her sign 
 it, and put it in his pocket. 
 
 Going home Anne had little to say. It was Geoffrey 
 who talked, while Beulah slept in a seat by herself. 
 
 Anne made her own lovely gown, running over 
 now and then to take surreptitious peeps at Cynthia's
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 portrait. She had let Mrs. Brooks into her secret, 
 and the little lady was enthusiastic. 
 
 " You shall wear my pearls, my dear. They will 
 be very effective in your dark hair." 
 
 She brought the jewels down in an old blue velvet 
 box milk-white against a yellowed satin lining. 
 
 " My father gave them to me on my wedding day. 
 Some day I shall give them to Richard's wife." 
 
 She could not know how her words stirred the 
 heart of the girl who stood looking so quietly down 
 at the pearls. 
 
 " I am almost afraid to wear them," Anne said 
 breathlessly. She gave Nancy a shy little kiss. 
 " You were dear to think of it." 
 
 And now busy days were upon her. There was 
 the school with Richard running in after closing time, 
 and staying, too, and keeping her from the work 
 that was waiting at home. Then at twilight a 
 dancing lesson with Geoffrey in the long front room, 
 with Beulah playing audience and sometimes Eric, 
 and with Peggy capering madly to the music. 
 
 Then the evening, with its enchanting task of 
 stitching on yards of rosy silk. Usually Geoffrey 
 read to her while she worked. His story was near- 
 ing the end. He was wearing heavy goggles which 
 gave him an owl-like appearance, of which he com- 
 plained. 
 
 "It spoils my beauty, Mistress Anne. I am just 
 an ugly gnome who sits at the feet of the Princess." 
 
 144
 
 PASSING A SHOP 
 
 " You are not ugly, and you know it. And men 
 shouldn't be vain." 
 
 " We are worse than women. Do you know what 
 you look like with all that silk around you ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Like Aurora. Do you remember that Stevenson 
 speaks of a ' pink dawn ' ? Well, you are a pink 
 dawn." 
 
 " Please stop talking about me, and read your last 
 chapter. I am so glad that you have reached the 
 end." 
 
 " Because you are tired of hearing it ? " 
 
 " Because of your poor eyes." 
 
 He took off his goggles. " Do my eyes look dif- 
 ferent ? Are they changed or dim ? " 
 
 " They are as bright as stars," and he sighed with 
 relief. 
 
 "And now if was young Michel who whispered, 
 ' God is good ! In a moment we shall see his face, 
 and we shall say to him, " We fought, but there 
 is no hatred in our hearts. We cannot hate our 
 brothers " ' " 
 
 That was the end. 
 
 " It is a great book," Anne told him solemnly. " It 
 will be a great success." 
 
 He seemed to shrink and grow small in his chair. 
 " It will come too late." 
 
 She looked up and saw the mood that was upon 
 145
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 him. " Oh, you must not not that," she said, hur- 
 riedly ; " if you give up now it will be a losing fight." 
 
 " Don't you suppose that I would fight if I felt 
 that I could win ? But what can a man do with a 
 thing like this that is dragging him down to dark- 
 ness ? " 
 
 " You mustn't be discouraged. Dr. Brooks says 
 that it isn't inevitable. You know that he said 
 that, and that the specialist said it." 
 
 " I know. But something tells me that I am fac- 
 ing darkness." He threw up his head. " Why 
 should we talk of it ? Let me tell you rather how 
 much you have helped me with my book. If it had 
 not been for you I could not have written it." 
 
 " I am glad if I have been of service." Her words 
 sounded formal after the warmth of his own. 
 
 He laughed, with a touch of bitterness. " The 
 Princess serves," he said, " always and always 
 serves. She never grabs, as the rest of us do, at 
 happiness." 
 
 " I shall grab when it comes," she said, smiling a 
 little, " and I am happy now, because I am going to 
 wear my pretty gown." 
 
 " Which reminds me," he said, quickly, and 
 brought from his pocket a little box. " Your cos- 
 tume won't be complete without these. I bought 
 them for you with the advance check which my 
 publishers sent after they had read the first chapters 
 of my book." 
 
 146
 
 PASSING A SHOP 
 
 She opened the box. Within lay a little string of 
 pearls. Not such pearls as Nancy had shown her, 
 but milk-white none the less, with shining lovely 
 lights. 
 
 " Oh," she gave a distressed cry, " you shouldn't 
 have done it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I can't accept them. Indeed I can't." 
 
 " I shall feel as if you had flung them in my face 
 if you give them back to me," heatedly. 
 
 " You shouldn't take it that way. It isn't fair to 
 take it that way." 
 
 " It isn't a question of fairness. It is a question of 
 kindness on your part." 
 
 " I want to be kind." 
 
 " Then take them." 
 
 She thought for a moment with her eyes on the 
 fire. When she raised them it was to say, " Would 
 you want your little sister, Mimi, to take jewels 
 from any man ? " 
 
 " Yes. If he loved her as I love you." 
 
 It was out, and they stood aghast. Then Geoffrey 
 stammered, " Can't you see that my soul kneels at 
 your feet ? That to me these pearls aren't as white 
 as your whiteness ?" 
 
 The rosy silk had slipped to the floor. She was 
 like a very small goddess in a morning cloud. "I 
 can't take them. Oh, I can't." 
 
 He made a quick gesture. But for her restrain- 
 H7
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 ing hand he would have cast the pearls into the 
 flames. 
 
 " Oh, don't," she said, the little hand tense on his 
 arm. " Don't hurt me like that." 
 
 He dropped the pearls into his pocket. " If you 
 won't wear them nobody shall. I suppose I seem to 
 you like all sorts of a fool. I seem like all sorts of a 
 fool to myself." 
 
 He turned and left her 
 
 An hour later he came back and found her still 
 sewing on the rosy silk. Her eyes were red, as if 
 she had wept a little. 
 
 " I was a brute," he said, repentantly ; " forgive 
 me and smile. I am a tempestuous fellow, and I 
 forgot myself." 
 
 " I was afraid we weren't ever going to be friends 
 again." 
 
 " I shall always be your friend. Yet who wants 
 a Blind Beggar for a friend tell me that, Mistress 
 Anne?" 
 
 148
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 In Which a Blind Beggar and a Butterfly Go to a Ball. 
 
 In my Own Little Room. 
 
 UNCLE ROD, I went to the party ! 
 I came home an hour ago, and since then I 
 have been sitting all shivery and shaky in my pink 
 silk. It will be daylight in a few minutes, but I 
 shan't go to bed. I couldn't sleep if I did. I feel 
 as if I shouldn't ever sleep again. 
 
 Uncle Rod, Jimmie Ford was at the Crossroads 
 ball! 
 
 I went early, because Mrs. Nancy had asked me to 
 be there to help with her guests. Geoffrey Fox 
 went with me. He was very picturesque in a 
 ragged jerkin with a black bandage over his eyes 
 and with old Mamie leading him at the end of a 
 cord. She enjoyed it immensely, and they attracted 
 a lot of attention, as he went tap-tapping along with 
 his cane over the polished floor, or whined for alms, 
 while she sat up on her haunches with a tin cup in 
 her mouth. 
 
 Well, Dr. Richard met us at the door, looking the 
 young squire to perfection in his grandfather's old 
 dress coat of blue with brass buttons. The people 
 
 149
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 from New York hadn't come, so Mrs. Nancy put the 
 pearls in my hair, and they made me stand under 
 the portrait in the library, to see if I were really like 
 my grandmother. I can't believe that I looked as 
 lovely as she, but they said I did, and I began to 
 feel as happy and excited as Cinderella at her ball. 
 
 Then the New York crowd arrived in motors, and 
 they were all masked. I knew Eve Chesley at 
 once and Winifred Ames, but it was hard to be sure 
 of any one else. Eve Chesley was a Rose, with a 
 thousand fluttering flounces of pink chiffon. She 
 was pursued by two men dressed as Butterflies, slim 
 and shining in close caps with great silken wings 
 a Blue Butterfly and a Brown one. I was pretty 
 sure that the Brown one was Philip Meade. It was 
 quite wonderful to watch them with their wings 
 waving. Eve carried a pocketful of rose petals and 
 threw them into the air as she went. I had never 
 imagined anything so lovely. 
 
 Well, I danced with Dr. Richard and I danced 
 with Geoffrey Fox, and I danced with Button Ames, 
 and with some men that I had never met before. It 
 seemed so good to be doing things like the rest. 
 Then all at once I began to feel that the Blue 
 Butterfly was watching me. He drifted away from 
 his pursuit of Evelyn Chesley, and whenever I raised 
 my eyes, I could see him in corners staring at me. 
 
 It gave me a queer feeling. I couldn't be sure, 
 and yet there he was. And, Uncle Rod, suddenly 
 
 150
 
 BEGGAR AND BUTTERFLT 
 
 I knew him ! Something in the way he carried him- 
 self. You know Jimmie's little swagger 1 
 
 I think I lost my head after that. I flirted with 
 Dr. Richard and with Geoffrey Fox. I think I even 
 flirted a little with Button Ames. I wanted them to 
 be nice to me. I wanted Jimmie to see that what he 
 had scorned other men could value, I wanted him 
 to know that I had forgotten him. I laughed and 
 danced as if my heart was as light as my heels, and 
 all the while I was just sick and faint with the 
 thought of it " Jimmie Ford is here, and he hasn't 
 said a word to me. Jimmie Ford is here and he 
 hasn't said a word " 
 
 At last I couldn't stand it any longer, and when I 
 was dancing with Geoffrey Fox I said, " Do you 
 think we could go down to the Garden Room ? I 
 must get away." 
 
 He didn't ask any question. And presently we 
 were down there in the quiet, and he had his band- 
 age off, and was looking at me, anxiously. " What 
 has happened, Mistress Anne?" 
 
 And then, oh, Uncle Rod, I told him. I don't 
 know how I came to do it, but it seemed to me that 
 he would understand, and he did. 
 
 When I had finished his face was white and set. 
 " Do you mean to tell me that any man has tried to 
 break your heart ? " 
 
 I think I was crying a little. "Yes. But the 
 worst of all is my pride."
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " My little Princess," he said softly, " that this 
 should have come to you." 
 
 Uncle Rod, I think that if I had ever had a 
 brother, I should have wanted him to be like Geof- 
 frey Fox. All his lightness and frivolity seemed to 
 slip from him. " He has thrown away what I would 
 give my life for," he said. " Oh, the young fool, not 
 to know that Paradise was being handed to him on 
 a platter." 
 
 I didn't tell him Jimmie's name. That is not to 
 be spoken to any one but you. And of course he 
 could not know, though perhaps he guessed it, after 
 what happened later. 
 
 While we sat there, Dr. Richard came to hunt for 
 us. " Everybody is going in to supper," he said. 
 He seemed surprised to find us there together, and 
 there was a sort of stiffness in his manner. " Mother 
 has been asking for you." 
 
 We went at once to the dining-room. There 
 were long tables set in the old-fashioned way for 
 everybody. Mrs. Nancy wanted things to be as 
 they had been in her own girlhood. On the table in 
 the wide window were two birthday cakes, and at 
 that table Dr. Richard sat with his mother on one 
 side of him, and Eve Chesley on the other. Eve's 
 cake had pink candles and his had white, and there 
 were twenty-five candles on each cake. 
 
 Geoffrey Fox and I sat directly opposite ; Dutton 
 Ames was on my right, Mrs. Ames was on Geoffrey's 
 
 152
 
 BEGGAR AND BUTTERFLT 
 
 left, and straight across the table, with his mask off, 
 was Jimmie Ford, staring at me with all his eyes! 
 
 For a minute I didn't know what to do. I just sat 
 and stared, and then suddenly I picked up the glass 
 that stood by my plate, raised it in salute and drank 
 smiling. His face cleared, he hesitated just a fraction 
 of a second, then his glass went up, and he returned 
 my greeting. I wonder if he thought that I would 
 cut him dead, Uncle Rod ? 
 
 And don't worry about what I drank. It was 
 white grape juice. Mrs. Nancy won't have any- 
 thing stronger. 
 
 Well, after that I ate, and didn't know what I 
 ate, for everything seemed as dry as dust. I know 
 my cheeks were red and that my eyes shone, and I 
 smiled until my face ached. And all the while I 
 watched Jimmie and Jimmie watched me, and 
 pretty soon, Uncle Rod, I understood why Jimmie 
 was there. 
 
 He was making love to Eve Chesley ! 
 
 Making love is very different from being in love, 
 isn't it? Perhaps love is something that Jimmie 
 really doesn't understand. But he was using on 
 Eve all of the charming tricks that he had tried 
 on me. She is more sophisticated, and they mean 
 less to her than to me, but I could see him bending 
 toward her in that flattering worshipful way of his 
 and when he took one of her roses and touched 
 it to his lips and then to her cheek, everything was 
 
 153
 
 dark for a minute. That kind of kiss was the only 
 kind that Jimmie Ford ever gave me, but to me it 
 had meant that he cared and that I cared and 
 here he was doing it before the eyes of all the world 
 and for love of another woman 1 
 
 After supper he came around the table and spoke 
 to me. I suppose he thought he had to. I don't 
 know what he said and I don't care. I only know 
 that I wanted to get away. I think it was then that 
 Geoffrey Fox guessed. For when Jimmie had gone 
 he said, very gently, " Would you like to go home ? 
 You look like your own little ghost, Mistress Anne." 
 
 But I had promised one more dance to Dr. Rich- 
 ard, and I wanted to dance it. If you could have 
 seen at the table how he towered above Jimmie 
 Ford. And when he stood up to make a little 
 speech in response to a toast from Dutton Ames, 
 his voice rang out in such a man's way. Do you 
 remember Jimmie Ford's falsetto? 
 
 I had my dance with him, and then Geoffrey took 
 me home, and all the way I kept remembering the 
 things Dr. Richard had said to me, such pleasant 
 friendly things, and when his mother told me " good- 
 night" she took my face between her hands and 
 kissed me. " You must come often, little Cynthia 
 Warfield," she said. " Richard and I both want 
 you." 
 
 But now that I am at home again, I can't think 
 of anything but how Jimmie Ford has spoiled it all. 
 
 154
 
 BEGGAR AND BUTTERFLT 
 
 When you have given something, you can't ever 
 really take it back, can you ? When you've given 
 faith and constancy to one man, what have you left 
 to give another ? 
 
 The river is beginning to show like a silver 
 streak, and a rooster is crowing. Oh, Uncle Rod, 
 if you were only here. Write and tell me that you 
 love me/ 
 
 Your 
 
 LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 In the Telegraph Tower. 
 MY VERY DEAR : 
 
 It is after supper, and Beulah and I are out 
 here with Eric. He likes to have her come, and 
 I play propriety, for Mrs. Bower, in common with 
 most women of her class, is very careful of her 
 daughter. I know you don't like that word " class," 
 but please don't think I am using it snobbishly. 
 Indeed, I think Beulah is much better brought up 
 than the daughters of folk who think themselves 
 much finer, and Mrs. Bower in her simple way is 
 doing some very effective chaperoning. 
 
 Eric is on night duty in the telegraph tower this 
 week ; the other operator has the day work. The 
 evenings are long, so Beulah brings her sewing, 
 and keeps Eric company. They really don't have 
 much to say to each other, so that I am not inter- 
 rupted when I write. They seem to like to sit and 
 
 155
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 look out on the river and the stars and the moon 
 coming up behind the hills. 
 
 It is all settled now. Eric told me yesterday. 
 " I am very happy," he said ; " I have been a lonely 
 man." 
 
 They are to be married in June, and the things 
 that she is making are to go into the cedar 
 chest which her father has given her. He found it 
 one day when he was in Baltimore, and when he 
 showed it to her, he shone with pleasure. He's 
 a good old Peter, and he is so glad that Beulah 
 is to marry Eric. Eric will rent a little house not 
 far up the road. It is a dear of a cottage, and Peggy 
 and I call it the Playhouse. We sit on the porch when 
 we come home from school, and peep in at the win- 
 dows and plan what we would put into it if we had 
 the furnishing of it. I should like a house like that, 
 Uncle Rod, for you and me and Diogenes. We'd 
 live happy ever after, wouldn't we ? Some day the 
 world is going to build " teacherages " just as it now 
 builds parsonages, and the little houses will help to 
 dignify and uplift the profession. 
 
 Your dear letter came just in time, and it was just 
 right. I should have gone to pieces if you had 
 pitied me, for I was pitying myself dreadfully. But 
 when I read " Little School-teacher, what would you 
 tell your scholars?" I knew what you wanted me to 
 answer. I carried your letter in my pocket to school, 
 and when I rang the bell I kept saying over and 
 
 156
 
 BEGGAR AND BUTTERFLT 
 
 over to myself, " Life is what we make it. Life is 
 what we make it," and all at once the bells began 
 to ring it : 
 
 " Life is what we make it 
 Life is what we make it." 
 
 When the children came in, before we began the 
 day's work, I talked to them. I find it is always up- 
 lifting when we have failed in anything to try to tell 
 others how not to fail ! Perhaps it isn't preaching 
 what we practice, but at least it supplies a working 
 theory. 
 
 I made up a fairy-story for them, too, about a 
 Princess who was so ill and unhappy that all the 
 kingdom was searched far and wide for some one to 
 cure her. And at last an old crone was found who 
 swore that she had the right remedy. "What is 
 it?" all the wise men asked; but the old woman 
 said, " It is written in this scroll. To-morrow the 
 Princess must start out alone upon a journey. What- 
 ever difficulty she encounters she must open this 
 scroll and read, and the scroll will tell her what to 
 do." 
 
 Well, the Princess started out, and when she had 
 traveled a little way she found that she was hungry 
 and tired, and she cried : " Oh, I haven't anything 
 to eat." Then the scroll said, " Read me," and she 
 opened the scroll and read : " There is corn in the 
 fields. You must shell it and grind it on a stone 
 
 157
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 and mix it with water, and bake it into the best 
 bread that you can." So the Princess shelled the 
 corn and ground it and mixed it with water, and 
 baked it, and it tasted as sweet as honey and as 
 crisp as apples. And the Princess ate with an appe- 
 tite, and then she lay down to rest. And in the 
 night a storm came up and there was no shelter, and 
 the Princess cried out, " Oh, what shall I do ? " and 
 the scroll said, " Read me." So she opened the 
 scroll and read : " There is wood on the ground. 
 You must gather it and stack it and build the best 
 little house that you can." So the Princess worked 
 all that day and the next and the next, and when 
 the hut was finished it was strong and dry and no 
 storms could destroy it. So the Princess stayed 
 there in the little hut that she had made, and ate the 
 sweet loaves that she had baked, and one day a 
 great black bear came down the road, and the Prin- 
 cess cried out, " Oh, I have no weapon ; what shall 
 I do ? " And the scroll said, " Read me." So she 
 opened the scroll and read, "Walk straight up to 
 the bear, and make the best fight that you can." 
 So the Princess, trembling, walked straight up to 
 the big black bear, and behold 1 when he saw her 
 coming, he ran away ! 
 
 Now the year was up, and the king sent his wise 
 men to bring the Princess home, and one day they 
 came to her little hut and carried her back to the 
 palace, and she was so rosy and well that everybody 
 
 158
 
 BEGGAR AND BUTTERFLT 
 
 wondered. Then the king called the people to- 
 gether, and said, " Oh, Princess, speak to us, and 
 let us know how you were cured." So the Princess 
 told them of how she had baked the bread, and built 
 the hut, and conquered the bear ; and of how she had 
 found health and happiness. For the bread that you 
 make with your own hands is the sweetest, and the 
 shelter that you build for yourself is the snuggest, 
 and the fear that you face is no fear at all. 
 
 The children liked my story, and I felt very brave 
 when I had finished it. You see, I have been for- 
 getting our sunsets, and I have been shivery and 
 shaky when I should have faced my Big Black 
 Bear! 
 
 Beulah is ready to go and so good-night. The 
 moon is high up and round, and as pure gold as 
 your own loving heart. 
 
 Ever your own 
 
 ANNE. 
 
 159
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 In Which Brinsley Speaks of the Way to Win a 
 Woman. 
 
 AND now spring was coming to the countryside. 
 The snow melted, and the soft rains fell, and 
 on sunny days Diogenes, splashing in the little 
 puddles, picked and pulled at his feathers as he 
 preened himself in the shelter of the south bank 
 which overlooked the river. 
 
 Some of the feathers were tipped with shining 
 green and some with brown. Some of them fell by 
 the way, some floated out on blue tides, and one of 
 them was wafted by the wind to the feet of Geoffrey 
 Fox, as, on a certain morning, he, too, stood on the 
 south bank. 
 
 He picked it up and stuck it in his hat. " I'll 
 wear it for my lady," he said to the old drake, " and 
 much good may it do me ! " 
 
 The old drake lifted his head toward the sky, and 
 gave a long cry. But it was not for Anne that he 
 called. She still gave him food and drink. He still 
 met her at the gate. If her mind was less upon him 
 than in the past, it mattered little. The things that 
 held meaning for him this morning were the glory 
 of the sunshine, and the softness of the breeze 
 
 1 60
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 Stirring within him was a need above and beyond 
 anything that Geoffrey could give, or Anne. He 
 listened not for the step of the little school-teacher, 
 but for the whirring wings of some comrade of his 
 own kind. Again and again he sent forth his cry to 
 the empty air. 
 
 Geoffrey's heart echoed the cry. His book was 
 finished, and it was time for him to go. Yet he was 
 held by a tie stronger than any which had hitherto 
 bound him. Here in the big old house at Bower's 
 was the one thing that his heart wanted. 
 
 " I could make her happy," he whispered to that 
 inner self which warned him. " With her as my 
 wife and with my book a success, I could defy fate." 
 
 The day was Saturday, and all the eager old 
 fishermen had arrived the night before. Brinsley 
 Tyson coming out with his rod in his hand and a 
 broad-brimmed hat on his head invited Geoffrey to 
 join him. " I've a motor boat that will take us out 
 to the island after we have done a morning's fishing, 
 and Mrs. Bower has put up a lunch." 
 
 " The glare is bad for my eyes." 
 
 " Been working them too hard ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " There's an awning and smoked glasses if you'll 
 wear them. And I don't want to go alone. David 
 went back on me ; he's got a new book. It's a 
 puzzle to me why any man should want to read 
 when he can have a day's fishing." 
 
 161
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " If people didn't read what would become of my 
 books?" 
 
 " Let 'em read. But not on days like this." 
 Brinsley's fat face was upturned to the sun. With 
 a vine-wreath instead of his broad hat and tunic in 
 place of his khaki he might have posed for any of 
 the plump old gods who loved the good things of 
 life. 
 
 Geoffrey, because he had nothing else to do, went 
 with him. Anne was invisible. On Saturday morn- 
 ings she did all of the things she had left undone 
 during the week. She mended and sewed and 
 washed her brushes, and washed her hair, and gave 
 all of her little belongings a special rub and scrub, 
 and showed herself altogether exquisite and house- 
 wifely. 
 
 She saw Geoffrey start out, and she waved to him. 
 He waved back, his hand shading his eyes. When 
 he had gone, she cleaned all of her toilet silver, and 
 ran ribbons into nicely embroidered nainsook things, 
 and put her pillows in the sun and tied up her head 
 and swept and dusted, and when she had made 
 everything shining, she had a bit of lunch on a tray, 
 and then she washed her hair. 
 
 Geoffrey ate lunch on the island with Brinsley 
 Tyson. He liked the old man immensely. There 
 was a flavor about his worldliness which had nothing 
 to do with stale frivolities ; it was rather a thing of 
 fastidious taste and of tempered wit. He was keen 
 
 162
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 in his judgments of men, and charitable in his esti- 
 mates of women. 
 
 Brinsley Tyson had known Baltimore before the 
 days of modern cities. He had known it before it 
 had cut its hotels after the palace pattern, and when 
 Rennert's in more primitive quarters had been the 
 Mecca for epicureans. He had known its theaters 
 when the footlight favorites were Lotta and Jo 
 Emmet, and when the incomparable Booth and 
 Jefferson had held audiences spellbound at Ford's 
 and at Albaugh's. He had known Charles Street 
 before it was extended, and he had known its Sun- 
 day parade. He had known the Bay Line Boats, 
 the harbor and the noisy streets that led to the 
 wharves. He had known Lexington Market on 
 Saturday afternoons ; the Baltimore and Ohio Rail- 
 road in the heyday of its importance, and more than 
 all he had known the beauties and belles of old 
 Baltimore, and it added piquancy to many of his 
 anecdotes when he spoke of his single estate as a 
 tragedy resulting from his devotion to too many 
 charmers, with no possibility of making a choice. 
 
 It was of these things that he spoke while Geoffrey, 
 lying in the grass with his arm across his eyes, 
 listened and enjoyed. 
 
 " And you never married, sir?" 
 
 " I've told you there were too many of them. If I 
 could have had any one of those girls on this island 
 with 'tother dear charmers away, there wouldn't 
 
 163
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 have been any trouble. But a choice with them all 
 about me was impossible." His old eyes twinkled. 
 
 " Suppose you had made a choice, and she hadn't 
 cared for you ? " said the voice of the man on the 
 grass. 
 
 " Any woman will care if you go at it the right 
 way." 
 
 " What is the right way ? " 
 
 " There's only one way to win a woman. If she 
 says she won't marry you, carry her off by force to a 
 clergyman, and when you get her there make her 
 say ' Yes.' " 
 
 Geoffrey sat up. " You don't mean that literally ? " 
 
 Brinsley nodded. "Indeed I do. Take the atti- 
 tude with them of Man the Conqueror. They all 
 like it. Man the Suppliant never gets what he 
 wants." 
 
 " But in these days primitive methods aren't 
 possible." 
 
 Brinsley skipped a chicken bone expertly across 
 the surface of the water. " Primitive methods are 
 always possible. The trouble is that man has lost 
 his nerve. The cult of chivalry has spoiled him. 
 It has taught him to kneel at his lady's feet, where 
 pre-historically he kept his foot on her neck 1 " 
 
 Geoffrey laughed. " You'd be mobbed in a suf- 
 frage meeting." 
 
 "Suffrage, my dear fellow, is the green carnation 
 in the garden of femininity. Every woman blooms 
 
 164
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 for her lover. It is the lack of lovers that produces 
 the artificial hence votes for women. What does 
 the woman being carried off under the arm of con- 
 quering man care for yellow banners or speeches 
 from the tops of busses ? She is too busy trying to 
 please him." 
 
 " It would be a great experiment. I'd like to try 
 it." 
 
 Brinsley, uncorking a hot and cold bottle, boldly 
 surmised, " It is the little school-teacher ? " 
 
 Geoffrey, again flat on the grass, murmured, 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And it is neck and neck between you and that 
 young cousin of mine?" 
 
 " I am afraid he is a neck ahead." 
 
 " It all depends upon which runs away with her 
 first." 
 
 Again Geoffrey murmured, " I'd like to try it." 
 
 " Why not?" said Brinsley and beamed over his 
 coffee cup like a benevolent spider at an unsuspecting 
 fly. He had no idea that his fooling might be taken 
 seriously. It was not given to his cynicism to com- 
 prehend the mood of the seemingly composed young 
 person who lay on the grass with his hat over his 
 eyes torn by contending emotions, maddened by 
 despair and the dread of darkness, awakened to new 
 impulses in which youth and hot blood fought 
 against an almost reverent tenderness for the object 
 of his adoration. Since the night of the Crossroads 
 
 165
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 ball Geoffrey had permitted himself to hope. She 
 had turned to him then. For the first time he had 
 felt that the barriers were down between them. 
 
 " Now Richard," Brinsley was saying, as he 
 smoked luxuriously after the feast, " ought to marry 
 Eve. She'll get her Aunt Maude's money, and be 
 the making of him." 
 
 Richard, who at that very moment was riding 
 through the country on his old white horse, had no 
 thought of Eve. 
 
 The rhythm of old Ben's even trot formed an 
 accompaniment to the song that his heart was 
 singing 
 
 " I think she was the most beautiful lady, 
 That ever was in the West Country 
 
 As he passed along the road, he was aware of the 
 world's awakening. His ears caught the faint flat 
 bleating of lambs, the call of the cocks, the high 
 note of the hens, the squeal of little pigs, and above 
 all, the clamor of blackbirds and of marauding crows. 
 
 The trees, too, were beginning to show the pale 
 tints of spring, and an amethyst haze enveloped the 
 hills. The river was silver in the shadow and gold 
 in the sun ; the little streams that ran down to it 
 seemed to sing as they went. 
 
 Coming at last to an old white farmhouse, Richard 
 dismounted and went in. The old man bent with 
 rheumatism welcomed him, and the old wife said, 
 
 166
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 " He is always better when he knows that you are 
 coming, doctor." 
 
 The old man nodded. " Your gran'dad used to 
 come. I was a little boy an' croupy, and he seemed 
 big as a house when he came in at the door. He 
 was taller than you, and thin." 
 
 " Now, father," the old woman protested, " the 
 young doctor ain't fat." 
 
 " He's fatter'n his gran'dad. But I ain't saying 
 that I don't like it. I like meat on a man's bones." 
 
 Richard laughed. " Just so that I don't go the way 
 of Cousin Brin. You know Brinsley Tyson, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " He's the fat twin. Yes, I know him and David. 
 David comes and reads to me, but Brinsley went to 
 Baltimore, and now he don't seem to remember that 
 we were boys together, and went to the Crossroads 
 school." 
 
 After that they spoke of the little new teacher, and 
 Richard revelled in the praise they gave her. She 
 was worshipped, they said, by the people round- 
 about. There had never been another like her. 
 
 " I think she was the most beautiful lady, 
 That ever was in the West Country " 
 
 was Richard's enlargement of their theme. In the 
 weeks just past he had seen much of her, and it had 
 seemed to him that life began and ended with his 
 thought of her. 
 
 167
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 When he rose to go the old woman went to the 
 door with him. " I guess we owe you a lot by this 
 time," she remarked ; " you've made so many calls. 
 It cheers him up to have you, but you'd better stop 
 now that he don't need you. It's so far, and we 
 ain't good pay like some of them." 
 
 Richard squared his shoulders a characteristic 
 gesture. " Don't bother about the bill. I have a sort 
 of sentiment about my grandfather's old patients. 
 It is a pleasure to know them and serve them." 
 
 " If you didn't mind taking your pay in chickens," 
 she stated as he mounted his horse, " we could let 
 you have some broilers." 
 
 " You will need all you can raise." Then as his 
 eyes swept the green hill which sloped down to the 
 river, he perceived an orderly line of waddling fowls 
 making their way toward the house. 
 
 " I'd like a white duck," he said, " if you could let 
 me take her now." 
 
 He chose a meek and gentle creature who sub- 
 mitted to the separation from the rest of her kind 
 without rebellion. Tucked under Richard's arm, 
 she surveyed the world with some alarm, but pres- 
 ently, as he rode on with her, she seemed to acqui- 
 esce in her abduction and faced the adventure with 
 serene eyes, murmuring now and then some note of 
 demure interrogation as she nestled quite confidently 
 against the big man who rode so easily his great 
 white horse. 
 
 168
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 And thus they came to Bower's, to find Anne on 
 the south bank, like a very modern siren, drying her 
 hair, with Diogenes nipping the new young grass 
 near her. 
 
 She saw them coming. Richard wore a short 
 rough coat and an old alpine hat of green. His 
 leggings were splashed with mud, and the white horse 
 was splashed, but there was about the pair of them 
 an air of gallant achievement. 
 
 She rose to greet them. She was blushing a little 
 and with her dark hair blowing she was " the most 
 beautiful," like the lady in the song. 
 
 " I thought no one would be coming," was her 
 apology, " and out here I get the wind and sun." 
 
 " All the old fishermen will be wrecked on the 
 rocks if they get a glimpse of you," he told her 
 gravely ; " you mustn't turn their poor old heads." 
 
 And now the white duck murmured. 
 
 " The lovely dear, where did you get her ? " Anne 
 asked. 
 
 " In the hills, to cheer up Diogenes." 
 
 He set the white duck down. She shook her 
 feathers and again spoke interrogatively. And now 
 Diogenes lifted his head and answered. For a few 
 moments he rent the air with his song of triumph. 
 Then he turned and led the way to the river. There 
 was a quiet pool in the bend of the bank. The old 
 drake breasted its shining waters, and presently the 
 white duck followed. With a sort of restrained 
 
 169
 
 MISTRESS 
 
 coquetry she turned her head from side to side. All 
 her questions were answered, all her murmurs 
 stilled. 
 
 Richard and Anne smiled at each other. " What 
 made you think of it ? " she asked. 
 
 " I thought you'd like it." 
 
 " I do." She began to twist up her hair. 
 
 " Please don't. I like to see it down." 
 
 " But people will be coming in." 
 
 11 Why should we be here when they come ? 
 put Ben in the stable and we'll go for a walk, 
 you know there are violets in the wood?" 
 
 From under the red-striped awning of Brinsley's 
 boat Geoffrey Fox saw Anne's hair blowing like a 
 sable banner in the breeze. He saw Richard's 
 square figure peaked up to the alpine hat. He saw 
 them enter the wood. 
 
 He shut his eyes from the glare of the sun and 
 lay quietly on the cushions of the little launch. But 
 though his eyes were shut, he could still see those 
 two figures walking together in the dreamy dimness 
 of the spring forest. 
 
 " What were the ethics of the primitive man ? " 
 he asked Brinsley suddenly. " Did he run away 
 with a woman who belonged to somebody else ? " 
 
 "Why not?" Brinsley's reel was whirring. "And 
 now if you don't mind, Fox, you might be ready 
 with the net. If this fish is as big as he pulls, he 
 will weigh a ton." 
 
 170
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 Geoffrey, coming in, found Peggy disconsolate on 
 the pier. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " he asked. 
 
 " I can't find Anne. She said that after her hair 
 dried she'd go for a walk to Beulah's playhouse, and 
 \ve were to have tea. Beulah was to bring it." 
 
 " She has gone for a walk with some one else." 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 " Dr. Brooks. Let's go and look for her, Peggy, 
 and when we find her we will tell her what we think 
 of her for running away." 
 
 The green stillness of the grove was very grateful 
 after the glare of the river. Geoffrey walked quickly, 
 with the child's hand in his. He had a feeling that 
 if he did not walk quickly he would be too late. 
 
 He was not too late ; he saw that at a glance. 
 Richard had dallied in his wooing. It had been so 
 wonderful to be with her. Once when he had knelt 
 beside her to pick violets, the wind had blown across 
 his face a soft sweet strand of her hair. It was then 
 that she had braided it, sitting on a fallen log under 
 a blossoming- dogwood. 
 
 " It is so long," she had said with a touch of 
 pride, " that it is a great trouble to care for it. 
 Cynthia Warfield had hair like mine." 
 
 " I don't believe that any one ever had hair like 
 yours. It seems to me as if every strand must have 
 been made specially in some celestial shop, and then 
 the pattern destroyed." 
 
 171
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 How lovely she was when she blushed like that i 
 How little and lovely and wise and good. He liked 
 little women. His mother was small, and he was 
 glad that both she and Anne had delicate hands and 
 feet. He was aware that this preference was old- 
 fashioned, but it was, none the less, the way he felt 
 about it. 
 
 And now there broke upon the silence of the 
 wood the sound of murmuring voices. Peggy and 
 Geoffrey Fox had invaded their Paradise ! 
 
 " We thought," Peggy complained, " that we had 
 lost you. Anne, you promised about the tea." 
 
 " Oh, Peggy, I forgot." 
 
 " Beulah's gone with the basket and Eric, and we 
 can't be late because there are hot biscuits." 
 
 Hurrying toward the biscuits and their hotness, 
 Anne ran ahead with Peggy. 
 
 " How about the eyes ? " Richard asked as he and 
 Geoffrey followed. 
 
 " I've been on the water, and it is bad for them. 
 But I'm not going to worry. I am getting out of 
 life more than I hoped more than I dared hope." 
 
 His voice had a high note of excitement. Richard 
 glanced at him. For a moment he wondered if Fox 
 had been drinking. 
 
 But Geoffrey was intoxicated with the wine of his 
 dreams. With a quick gesture in which he seemed 
 to throw from him all the fears which had oppressed 
 him, he told his triumphant lie. 
 
 172
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 " I am going to marry Anne Warfield ; she has 
 promised to be eyes for me, and light the sun and 
 the moon." 
 
 Richard's face grew gray. He spoke with diffi- 
 culty. " She has promised? " 
 
 Then again Geoffrey lied, meaning indeed before 
 the night had passed to make his words come true. 
 " She is going to marry me and I am the happiest 
 man alive ! " 
 
 The light went out of Richard's world. How 
 blind he had been. He had taken her smiles and 
 blushes to himself when she had glowed with a 
 happiness which had nothing to do with him. 
 
 He steadied himself to speak. " You are a lucky 
 fellow, Fox ; you must let me congratulate you." 
 
 " The world doesn't know," Geoffrey said, " not 
 yet. But I had to tell it to some one, and a doctor 
 is a sort of secular father confessor." 
 
 Richard's laugh was without mirth. " If you 
 mean that it's not to be told, you may rely on my 
 discretion." 
 
 " Of course. I told you she was to play Beatrice 
 to my Dante, but she shall be more than that." 
 
 It was a rather silent party which had tea on the 
 porch of the Playhouse. But Beulah and Eric were 
 not aware of any lack in their guests. Eric had 
 been to Baltimore the day before, and Beulah wore 
 her new ring. She accepted Richard's congratula- 
 tions shyly. 
 
 173
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 11 1 like my little new house," she said ; " have 
 you been over it ? " 
 
 He said that he had not, and she took him. Eric 
 went with them, and as they stood in the door of an 
 upper room, he put his arm quite frankly about 
 Beulah's shoulders as she explained their plans to 
 Richard. " This is to be in pink and the other one 
 in white, and all the furniture is to be pink and 
 white." 
 
 She was as pink and white and pretty as the 
 rooms she was planning, and to see her standing 
 there within the circle of her lover's arm was heart- 
 warming. 
 
 "You must get some roses from my mother, 
 Beulah, for your little garden," the young doctor 
 told her ; " all pink and white like the rest of it" 
 
 He let them go down ahead of him, and so it 
 happened that he stood for a moment alone in a 
 little upper porch at the back of the house which 
 overlooked the wood. The shadows were gathering 
 in its dim aisles, shutting out the daylight, shutting 
 out the dreams which he had lost that day in the 
 fragrant depths. 
 
 When later he came with the rest of them to 
 Bower's, the river was stained with the sunset. 
 Diogenes and the white duck breasted serenely the 
 crimson surface. Certain old fishermen trailed be- 
 latedly up the bank. Others sat spick and span 
 and ready for supper on the porch. 
 
 174
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 Brinsley Tyson over the top of his newspaper 
 hailed Richard. 
 
 " There's a telephone call for you. They've been 
 trying to get you for an hour." 
 
 He went in at once, and coming out told Anne 
 good-night. " Thank you for a happy afternoon," 
 he said. 
 
 But she missed something in his voice, something 
 that had been there when they had walked in the 
 wood. 
 
 She watched him as he went away, square-shoul- 
 dered and strong on his big white horse. She had 
 a troubled sense that things had in some fateful and 
 tragic way gone wrong with her afternoon, but it 
 was not yet given to her to know that young Rich- 
 ard on his big white horse was riding out of her life. 
 
 It was after supper that Geoffrey asked her to go 
 out on the river with him. 
 
 " Not to-night. I'm tired." 
 
 " Just a little minute, Mistress Anne. To see the 
 moon come up over the island. Please." So she 
 consented. 
 
 Helping her into the boat, Geoffrey's hands were 
 shaking. The boat swept out from the pier in a 
 wide curve, and he drew a long breath. He had her 
 now it would be a great adventure like a book 
 better than any book. 
 
 Primitive man in prehistoric days carried his 
 woman off captive under his arm. Geoffrey P pursu- 
 
 175
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 ing modern methods, had borrowed Brinsley's boat. 
 A rug was folded innocently on the cushions; in a 
 snug little cupboard under the stern seat were certain 
 supplies a great adventure, surely ! 
 
 And now the boat was under the bridge ; the signal 
 lights showed red and green. Then as they slipped 
 around the first island there was only the silver of 
 the moonshine spread out over the waters. 
 
 Geoffrey stopped the motor. " We'll drift and 
 talk." 
 
 " You talk," she told 'him, " and I'll listen, and we 
 mustn't be too late." 
 
 " What is too late ? " 
 
 " I told you I would stay just a little minute." 
 
 "There is no real reason why we shouldn't stay as 
 long as we wish. You are surely not so prim that 
 you are doing it for propriety." 
 
 " You know I am not prim." 
 
 "Yes you are. You are prim and Puritan and 
 sometimes you are a prig. But I like you that way, 
 Mistress Anne. Only to-night I shall do as I please." 
 
 " Don't be silly." 
 
 " Is it silly to love you why ?" 
 
 He argued it with her brilliantly so that it was 
 only when the red and green lights of a second bridge 
 showed ahead of them that she said, sharply, "We 
 are miles away from Bower's ; we must go back." 
 
 " It won't take us long," he said, easily, and pres- 
 ently they were purring up-stream. 
 
 176
 
 TO WIN A WOMAN 
 
 Then all at once the motor stopped. Geoffrey, 
 inspecting it with a flashlight, said, succinctly, 
 " Engine's on the blink." 
 
 " You mean that we can't go on ? " 
 
 " Oh, I'll tinker it up. Only you'll have to let me 
 get into that box under the stern seat for the tools. 
 You can hold the light while I work." 
 
 As he worked they drifted. They passed the 
 second bridge. Anne, steering, grew cold and 
 shivered. But she did not complain. She was 
 glad, however, when Geoffrey said, " You'd better 
 curl down among the cushions, and let me wrap you 
 in this rug." 
 
 " Can you manage without me?" 
 
 " Yes. I've patched it up partially. And you'll 
 freeze in this bitter air." 
 
 The wind had changed and there was now no 
 moon. She was glad of the warmth of the rug and 
 the comfort of the cushioned space. She shut her 
 eyes, after a time, and, worn out by the emotions of 
 the day, she dropped into fitful slumber. 
 
 Then Geoffrey, his hair blown back by the wind, 
 stood at the wheel and steered his boat not up-stream 
 toward the bridge at Bower's, but straight down 
 toward the wider waters, where the river stretches 
 out into the Bay. 
 
 177
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 In Which Eve Usurps an Ancient Masculine Priv- 
 ilege. 
 
 AUNT MAUDE CHESLEY belonged to the 
 various patriotic societies which are dependent 
 on Revolutionary fighting blood, on Dutch forbears, 
 or on the ancestral holding of Colonial office. The 
 last stood highest in her esteem. It was the hardest 
 to get into, hence there was about it the sanctity of 
 exclusiveness. Any man might spill his blood for 
 his country, and among those early Hollanders were 
 many whose blood was red instead of blue, but it 
 was only a choice few who in the early days of the 
 country's history had been appointed by the Crown 
 or elected by the people to positions of influence and 
 of authority. 
 
 When Aunt Maude went to the meeting of her 
 favorite organization, she wore always black velvet 
 which showed the rounds of her shoulders, point lace 
 in a deep bertha, the family diamonds, and all of her 
 badges. The badges had bars and jewels, and the 
 effect was imposing. 
 
 Evelyn laughed at her. " Nobody cares for an- 
 cestors any more. Not since people began to hunt 
 
 178
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 them up. You can find anything if you look for it, 
 Aunt Maude. And most of the crests are bought or 
 borrowed so that if one really belongs to you, you 
 don't like to speak of it, any more than to tell that 
 you are a lady or take a daily bath." 
 
 " Our ancestors," said Aunt Maude solemnly, "are 
 our heritage from the past but you have reverence 
 for nothing." 
 
 " They were a jolly old lot," Eve agreed, " and I 
 am proud of them. But some of their descendants 
 are a scream. If men had their minds on being an- 
 cestors instead of bragging of them there'd be some 
 hope for the future of old families." 
 
 Aunt Maude, having been swathed by her maid 
 in a silk scarf, so that her head was stiff with it, 
 batted her eyes. " If you would go with me," she 
 said, " and hear some of the speeches, you might look 
 at it differently. Now there was a Van Tromp " 
 
 " And in New England there were Codcapers, and 
 in Virginia there were Pantops. I take off my hat 
 to them, but not to their descendants, indiscrimi- 
 nately." 
 
 And now Aunt Maude, more than ever mummified 
 in a gold and black brocade wrap trimmed with 
 black fur, steered her uncertain way toward the 
 motor at the door. 
 
 "People in my time " floated over her shoul- 
 der and then as the door closed behind her, her elo- 
 quence was lost. 
 
 179
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Eve, alone, faced a radiant prospect. Richard 
 was coming. He had telephoned. She had not 
 told Aunt Maude. She wanted him to herself. 
 
 When at last he arrived she positively crowed 
 over him. " Oh, Dicky, this is darling of you." 
 
 A shadow fell across her face, however, when he 
 told her why he had come. 
 
 " Austin wanted me with him in an operation. 
 He telegraphed me and I took the first train. I 
 have been here for two days without a minute's 
 time in which to call you up." 
 
 " I thought that perhaps you had come to see me." 
 
 " Seeing you is a pleasant part of it, Eve." 
 
 He was really glad to see her ; to be drawn away 
 by it all from the somberness of his thoughts. The 
 night before he had left the train on the Jersey side 
 and had ferried over so that he might view once 
 more the sky-line of the great city. There had been 
 a stiff breeze blowing and it had seemed to him that 
 he drew the first full breath since the moment when 
 he had walked with Geoffrey in the wood. What 
 had followed had been like a dream ; the knowledge 
 that the great surgeon wanted him, his mother's 
 quick service in helping him pack his bag, the walk 
 to Bower's in the fragrant dark to catch the ten 
 o'clock train ; the moment on the porch at Bower's 
 when he had learned from a word dropped by 
 Beulah that Anne was on the river with Geoffrey. 
 
 And now it all seemed so far away the river with 
 
 1 80
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 the moon's broad path, Bower's low house and its 
 yellow-lighted panes, the silence, the darkness. 
 
 Since morning he had done a thousand things. 
 He had been to the hospital and had yielded once 
 more to the spell of its splendid machinery ; he had 
 talked with Austin and the talk had been like wine 
 to a thirsty soul. In such an atmosphere a man 
 would have little time to think. He craved the 
 action, the excitement, the uplift. 
 
 He came back to Eve's prattle. " I told Winifred 
 Ames we would come to her little supper after the 
 play. I was to have gone with her and Pip and 
 Jimmie Ford. Tony is away. But when you 
 'phoned, I called the first part of it off. I wanted 
 to have a little time just with you, Richard." 
 
 He smiled at her. " Who is Jimmie Ford ? " 
 
 " A lovely youth who is in love with me or 
 with my money he was at your birthday party, 
 Dicky Boy ; don't you remember ? " 
 
 "The Blue Butterfly? Yes. Is he another vic- 
 tim, Eve ? " 
 
 She shrugged. " Who knows ? If he is in love 
 with me, he'll get hurt ; if he is in love with Aunt 
 Maude's money, he won't get it. Oh, how can a 
 woman know?" The lightness left her voice 
 " Sometimes I think that I'll go off somewhere and 
 see if somebody won't love me for what I am, and 
 not for what he thinks Aunt Maude is going to 
 leave me." 
 
 181
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 11 And you with a string of scalps at your belt, 
 and Pip ready at any moment to die for you." 
 
 She nodded. " Pip is pure gold. Nobody can 
 question his motives. And anyhow he has more 
 money than I can ever hope to have. But I am not 
 in love with him, Dicky." 
 
 " You are not in love with anybody. You are a 
 cold-blooded little thing, Eve. A man would need 
 much fire to melt your ice." 
 
 "Would he?" 
 
 " You know he would." 
 
 He swept away from her petulances to the thing 
 which was for the moment uppermost in his mind. 
 " I have had an offer, Eve, from Austin. He wants 
 an assistant, a younger man who can work into 
 his practice. It is a wonderful working oppor- 
 tunity." 
 
 " It would be wicked to throw it away," she told 
 him, breathlessly, " wicked, Richard." 
 
 " It looks that way. But there's mother to think 
 of, and Crossroads has come to mean a lot to me, 
 Eve." 
 
 " Oh, but New York, Dicky 1 Think of the good 
 times we'd have, and of your getting into Austin's 
 line of work and his patients. You would be rolling 
 in your own limousine before you'd know it." 
 
 Rolling in his own limousine ! And missing 
 the rhythm of big Ben's measured trot ! 
 
 "/ think she was the most beautiful 
 182
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 As they motored to Winifred's, Eve spoke of his 
 quiet mood. " Why don't you talk, Dicky ? " 
 
 " It has been a busy day I'll wake up pres- 
 ently and realize that I am here." 
 
 It was before he went down-stairs at the Dutton- 
 Ames that he had a moment alone with Jimmie Ford. 
 
 Jimmie was not in the best of moods. Winifred 
 had asked him a week ago to join a choice quartette 
 which included Pip and Eve. Of course Meade 
 made a troublesome fourth, but Jimmie's conceit 
 saved him from realizing the real fact of the impor- 
 tance of the plain and heavy Pip to that group. 
 And now, things had been shifted, so that Eve had 
 stayed to talk to a country doctor, and he had been 
 left to the callow company of an indefinite debu- 
 tante whom Winifred had invited to fill the vacancy. 
 
 " When did you come down, Brooks ? " he asked 
 coldly. 
 
 " This morning." 
 
 " Nice old place of yours in Harford." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Owned it long?" 
 
 " Several generations." 
 
 "Oh, ancestral halls, and all that ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I saw Cynthia Warfield's picture on the wall 
 used to know the family down in Carroll our 
 old estates joined Anne Warfield and I were 
 brought up together." 
 
 183
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 They had reached the head of the stairway. Richard 
 stopped and stood looking down. " Anne Warfield?" 
 
 "Yes. Surprised to find her teaching. I fancy 
 they've been pretty hard up grandfather drank, 
 and all that, you know." 
 
 " I didn't know." It was now Richard's turn to 
 speak coldly. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ran through with all their money. 
 Years ago. Anne's a little queen. Engaged to her 
 once myself, you know. Boy and girl affair, broken 
 off " 
 
 Below them in the hall, Richard could see the 
 women with whom he was to sup. Shining, shim- 
 mering figures in silk and satin and tulle. For 
 these, softness and ease of living. And that other 
 one 1 Oh, the cheap little gown, the braided hair 1 
 Before he had known her she had been Jimmie's 
 and now she was Geoffrey's. And he had fatuously 
 thought himself the first. 
 
 He threw himself uproariously into the fun which 
 followed. After all, it was good to be with them 
 again, good to hear the familiar talk of people and 
 of things, good to eat and drink and be merry in 
 the fashion of the town, good to have this taste of 
 the old tumultuous life. 
 
 He and Eve went home together. Philip's honest 
 face clouded as he saw them off. " Don't run away 
 with her, Brooks," he said, as he leaned in to have a 
 last look at her. " Good-night, little lady." 
 
 184
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 It was when they were motoring through the park 
 that Eve said, " I am troubled about Pip." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Oh, I sometimes have a feeling that he has a 
 string tied to me and that he is pulling me his 
 way. And I don't want to go. But I shall, if some- 
 thing doesn't save me from him, Richard." 
 
 " You can save yourself." 
 
 "That's all you know about it. Women take 
 what they can get in this world, not what they 
 want. Every morning Pip sends me flowers, sweet- 
 heart roses to-day, and lilies yesterday, and before 
 that gardenias and orchids, and when I open the 
 boxes every flower seems to be shouting, ' Come 
 and marry me, come and marry me.' " 
 
 " No woman need marry a man she doesn't care 
 for, Eve." 
 
 " Lots of them do." 
 
 " You won't. You are too sensible." 
 
 " Am I ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 She sighed a little. " I am not half as sensible as 
 you think." 
 
 When they reached home, they found Aunt Maude 
 before them. She had been unswathed from her 
 veil and her cloak, released from her black velvet, and 
 was comfortable before her sitting-room fire in a pad- 
 ded wisteria robe and a boudoir cap with satin bow.
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Underneath the cap there were no flat gray curls. 
 These were whisked mysteriously away each night 
 by Hannah, the maid, to be returned in the morn- 
 ing, fresh from their pins with no hurt to Aunt 
 Maude's old head. 
 
 She greeted Richard cordially. " I sent Hannah 
 down when I heard you. Eve didn't let me know 
 you were here ; she never lets me know. And now 
 tell me about your poor mother." 
 
 " Why poor, dear lady ? You know she loves 
 Crossroads." 
 
 " How anybody can I'd die of loneliness. 
 
 Now to-night so many people of my own kind " 
 
 " Everybody in black velvet or brocade, every- 
 body with badges, everybody with blue blood," Eve 
 interrupted flippantly ; " nobody with ideas, nobody 
 with enthusiasms, nobody with an ounce of origi- 
 nality ugh ! " 
 
 "My dear !" 
 
 " Dicky, Aunt Maude's idea of Heaven is a place 
 where everybody wears coronets instead of halos, 
 and where the angel chorus is a Dutch version of 
 4 God save the King.' " 
 
 " My idea of Heaven," Aunt Maude retorted, " is 
 a place where young girls have ladylike manners." 
 
 Richard roared. It had been long since he had 
 tasted this atmosphere of salt and spice. Aunt Maude 
 and her sprightly niece were as good as a play. 
 
 " How long shall you be in town, Richard ? " 
 186
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 "Three or four days. It depends on the condi- 
 tion of our patient It may be necessary to operate 
 again, and Austin wants me to be here." 
 
 " Aunt Maude, Dicky may come back to New 
 York to live." 
 
 " He should never have left. What does your 
 mother think of it ? " 
 
 " I haven't told her of Austin's offer. I shall write 
 to-night." 
 
 " If she has a grain of sense, she'll make you 
 take it." 
 
 Eve was restless. " Come on down, Dicky. It is 
 time that Aunt Maude was in bed." 
 
 " I never go until you do, Eve, and in my day 
 young men went home before morning." 
 
 " Dearest, Dicky shall leave in ten minutes. I'll 
 send him." 
 
 But when they were once more in the great draw- 
 ing-room, she forgot the time limit. " Don't let 
 your mother settle things for you, Dicky. Think 
 of yourself and your future. Of your manhood. 
 Dicky please." 
 
 She was very lovely as she stood before him, with 
 her hands on his shoulders. " I want you to be the 
 biggest of them all," she said, and her laugh was 
 tremulous. 
 
 " I know. Eve, I want to stay." 
 
 " Oh, Dicky really ? " 
 
 " Really, Eve." 
 
 187
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Their hands came together in a warm clasp. 
 
 She let him go after that. There had been noth- 
 ing more than brotherly warmth in his manner, but 
 it was enough that in the days to come she was to 
 have him near her. 
 
 Richard, writing to his mother, told her some- 
 thing of his state of mind. " I'll admit that it tempts 
 me. It is a big thing, a very big thing, to work 
 with a man like that. Yet knowing how you feel 
 about it, I dare not decide. We shall have to face 
 one thing, however. The Crossroads practice will 
 never be a money-making practice. I know how 
 little money means to you, but the lack of it will 
 mean that I shall be tied to rather small things as 
 the years go on. I should like to be one of the Big 
 Men, mother. You see I am being very frank. I'll 
 admit that I dreamed with you of bringing all my 
 talents to the uplift of a small community, of reviv- 
 ing at Crossroads the dignity of other days. But 
 perhaps we have dreamed too much the world 
 doesn't wait for the dreamers the only way is to 
 join the procession." 
 
 In the day which intervened between his letter and 
 his mother's answer, he had breakfast with Eve in 
 the room with the flame-colored fishes and the par- 
 rot and the green-eyed cat He motored with Eve 
 out to Westchester, and they had lunch at an inn on 
 the side of a hiU'which overlooked the Hudson ; later 
 they went to a matinee, to tea in a special little 
 
 1 88
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 corner of a down-town hotel for the sake of old days, 
 then back again to dress for dinner at Eve's, with 
 Aunt Maude at the head of the table, and Tony and 
 Winifred and Pip completing the party. Then 
 another play, another supper, another ride home with 
 Eve, and in the morning in quiet contrast to all this, 
 his mother's letter. 
 
 " Dear Boy," she said, " I am glad you spoke to 
 me frankly of what you feel. I want no secrets be- 
 tween us, no reservations, no sacrifices which in the 
 end may mean a barrier between us. 
 
 "Our sojourn at Crossroads has been an experi- 
 ment. And it has failed. I had hoped that as the 
 days went on, you might find happiness. Indeed, I 
 had been deceiving myself with the thought that you 
 were happy. But now I know that you are not, and 
 I know, too, what it must mean to you to feel that 
 from among all the others you have been chosen to 
 help a great man like Dr. Austin, who was the friend 
 of my father, and my friend through everything. 
 
 " But Richard, I can't go back. I literally crawled 
 to Crossroads, after my years in New York, as a 
 wounded animal seeks its lair. And I have a mor- 
 bid shrinking from it all, unworthy of me, perhaps, 
 but none the less impossible to overcome. I feel 
 that the very stones of the streets would speak of the 
 tragedy and dishonor of the past : houses would 
 stare at me, the crowds would shun me. 
 
 " And now I have this to propose. That I stay 
 189
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 here at Crossroads, keeping the old house open for 
 you. David is near me, and any one of Cousin 
 Mary Tyson's daughters would be glad to come to 
 me. And you shall run down at week-ends, and tell 
 me all about it, and I shall live in your letters and in 
 the things which you have to tell. We can be one 
 in spirit, even though there are miles between us. 
 This is the only solution which seems possible to me 
 at this moment. I cannot hold you back from what 
 may be your destiny. I can only pray here in my 
 old home for the happiness and success that must 
 come to you my boy my little boy " 
 
 The letter broke off there. Richard, high up in the 
 room of the big hotel, found himself pacing the 
 floor. Back of the carefully penned lines of his 
 mother's letter he could see her slender tense figure, 
 the whiteness of her face, the shadow in her eyes. 
 How often he had seen it when a boy, how often he 
 had sworn that when he was the master of the house 
 he would make her happy. 
 
 The telephone rang. It was Eve. " I was afraid 
 you might have left for the hospital." 
 
 " I am leaving in a few minutes." 
 
 " Can you go for a ride with me ?" 
 
 " In the afternoon. There's to be another opera- 
 tion it may be very late before I am through." 
 
 " Not too late for dinner out of town somewhere 
 and a ride under the May moon." Her voice rang 
 high and happy. 
 
 190
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 For the rest of the morning he had no time to 
 think of his own affairs. The operation was ex- 
 tremely rare and interesting, and Austin's skill was 
 superb. Richard felt as if he were taking part in a 
 play, in which the actors were the white clad and 
 competent doctors and nurses, and the stage was 
 the surgical room. 
 
 Eve coming for him, found him tired and taciturn. 
 She respected his mood, and said little, and they 
 rode out and out from the town and up and up into 
 the Westchester hills, dotted with dogwood, pink and 
 white like huge nosegays. As the night came on 
 there was the fragrance of the gardens, the lights of 
 the little towns ; then once more the shadows as they 
 swept again into the country. 
 
 " We will go as far as we dare," Eve said. " I 
 know an adorable place to dine." 
 
 She tried more than once to bring him to speak 
 of Austin, but he put her off. " I am dead tired, dear 
 girl ; you talk until we have something to eat." 
 
 "Oh," Eve surveyed him scornfully, "oh, men 
 and their appetites 1 " 
 
 But she had a thousand things to tell him, and her 
 light chatter carried him away from somber thoughts, 
 so that when they reached at last the quaint hostelry 
 toward which their trip had tended, he was ready to 
 meet Eve's mood half-way, and enter with some zest 
 upon their gay adventure. She chose a little table 
 on a side porch, where they were screened from ob- 
 
 191
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 servation, and which overlooked the river, and there 
 took off her hat and powdered her nose, and gave 
 her attention to the selection of the dinner. 
 
 " A clear soup, Dicky Boy, and Maryland chicken, 
 hot asparagus, a Russian dressing for our lettuce, 
 and at the end red raspberries with little cakes. 
 They are sponge cakes, Dicky, filled with cream, 
 and they are food for the gods." 
 
 He was hungry and tired and he wanted to eat. 
 He was glad when the food came on. 
 
 When he finished he leaned back and talked shop. 
 " If you don't like it," he told Eve, " I'll stop. Some 
 women hate it." 
 
 " I love it," Eve said. " Dicky, when I dream of 
 your future you are always at the top of things, with 
 smaller men running after you and taking your 
 orders." 
 
 He smiled. " Don't dream. It doesn't pay. I've 
 stopped." 
 
 She glanced at him. His face was stern. 
 
 " What's up, Dicky Boy ? " 
 
 He laughed without mirth. " Oh, I'm beginning 
 to think we are puppets pulled by strings ; that 
 things happen as Fate wills and not as we want 
 them." 
 
 " Men haven't any right to talk that way. It's 
 their world. If you were a woman you might com- 
 plain. Look at me ! Everything that I have comes 
 from Aunt Maude. She could leave me without a 
 
 192
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 cent if she chose, and she knows it. She owns me, 
 and unless I marry she'll own me until I die." 
 
 " You'll marry, Eve. Old Pip will see to that." 
 
 " Pip," passionately. " Dicky, why do you always 
 fling Pip in my face ? " 
 
 "Eve !" 
 
 " You do. Everybody does. And I don't want 
 him." 
 
 " Then don't have him. There are others. And 
 you needn't lose your temper over a little thing like 
 that." 
 
 " It isn't a little thing." 
 
 "Oh, well " The conversation lapsed into 
 
 silence until Eve said, " I was horrid and I think 
 we had better be getting back, Dicky." 
 
 Again in the big limousine, with the stolid chauf- 
 feur separated from them by the glass screen, she 
 said, softly, " Oh, Dicky, it seems too good to be 
 true that we shall have other nights like this other 
 rides. When will you come up for good ? " 
 
 " I am not coming, Eve." 
 
 She turned to him, her face frozen into whiteness. 
 
 "Not coming? Why not ?" 
 
 " While mother lives I must make her happy." 
 
 " Oh, don't be goody-goody." 
 
 He blazed. " I'm not." 
 
 " You are Aren't you ever going to live your 
 own life?" 
 
 " I am living it. But I can't break mother's heart." 
 
 193
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " You might as well break hers as mine." 
 
 He stared down at her. Mingled forever after 
 with his thoughts of that moment was a blurred 
 vision of her whiteness and stillness. Her slim 
 hands were crossed tensely on her knees. 
 
 He laid one of his own awkwardly over them. 
 " Dear girl," he said, " you don't in the least mean it." 
 
 " I do. Dicky, why shouldn't I say it ? Why 
 shouldn't I ? Hasn't a woman the right ? Hasn't 
 she?" 
 
 She was shaking with silent sobs, the tears run- 
 ning down her cheeks. He had not seen her cry 
 like this since little girlhood, when her mother had 
 died, and he, a clumsy lad, had tried to comfort her. 
 
 He was faced by a situation so stupendous that 
 for a moment he sat there stunned. Proud little 
 Eve for love of him had made the supreme sacrifice 
 of her pride. Could any man in his maddest mo- 
 ment have imagined a thing like this ! 
 
 He bent down to her, and took her hands in his. 
 
 " Hush, Eve, hush. I can't bear to see you cry. 
 I'm not the fellow to make you happy, dear." 
 
 Her head dropped against his shoulder. The 
 perfumed gold of her hair was against his cheeks. 
 " No one else can make me happy, Dicky." 
 
 Then he felt the world whirl about him, and it 
 seemed to him as he answered that his voice came 
 from a long distance. 
 
 " If you'll marry me, Eve, I'll stay." 
 194
 
 A MASCULINE PRIVILEGE 
 
 It was the knightly thing to do, and the necessary 
 thing. Yet as they swept on through the night, his 
 mother's face, all the joy struck from it, seemed to 
 stare at him out of the darkness. 
 
 195
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 In Which Geoffrey Plays Cave Man. 
 
 MINE OWN UNCLE: 
 I don't know whether to begin at the begin- 
 ning or at the end of what I have to tell you. And 
 even now as I think back over the events of the last 
 twenty-four hours I feel that I must have dreamed 
 them, and that I will wake and find that nothing has 
 really happened. 
 
 But something has happened, and " of a strange- 
 ness " which makes it seem to belong to some of those 
 queer old dime " thrillers " which you never wanted 
 me to read. 
 
 Last night Geoffrey Fox asked me to go out with 
 him on the river. I don't often go at night, yet 
 as there was a moon, it seemed as if I might. 
 
 We went in Brinsley Tyson's motor boat. It is 
 big and roomy and is equipped with everything to 
 make one comfortable for extended trips. I won- 
 dered a little that Geoffrey should take it, for he has 
 a little boat of his own, but he said that Mr. Tyson 
 had offered it, and they had been out in it all day. 
 
 Well, it was lovely on the water ; I was feeling 
 tired and as blue as blue some day I may tell you 
 
 196
 
 THE CAFE MAN 
 
 about that, Uncle Rod, and I was glad of the quiet 
 and beauty of it all ; and of late Geoffrey and I 
 have been such good friends. 
 
 Can't you ever really know people, Uncle Rod, or 
 am I so dull and stupid that I misunderstand ? Men 
 are such a puzzle all except you, you darling 
 dear and if you were young and not my uncle, 
 even you might be as much of a puzzle as the rest. 
 
 Well, I would never have believed it of Geoffrey 
 Fox, and even now I can't really feel that he was re- 
 sponsible. But it isn't what I think but what you will 
 think that is important for I have, somehow, ceased 
 to believe in myself. 
 
 It was when we reached the second bridge that I 
 told Geoffrey that we must turn back. We had, 
 even then, gone farther than I had intended. But 
 as we started up-stream, I felt that we would get to 
 Bower's before Peter went back on the bridge, which 
 is always the signal for the house to close, although 
 it is never really closed ; but the lights are turned 
 down and the family go to bed, and I have always 
 known that I ought not to stay out after that. 
 
 Well, just as we left the second bridge, something 
 happened to the motor. 
 
 Uncle Rod, that was last night, and I didn't get 
 back to Bower's until a few hours ago, and here is 
 the whole truth before I write any more 
 
 Geoffrey Fox tried to run away with me ! 
 
 It would seem like a huge joke if it were not so 
 197
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 serious. I don't know how he got such an idea in 
 his head. Perhaps he thought that life was like one 
 of his books that all he had to do was to plan a 
 plot, and then make it work out in his own way. He 
 said, in that first awful moment, when I knew what 
 he had done, " I thought I could play Cave Man 
 and get away with it." You see, he hadn't taken 
 into consideration that I wasn't a Cave Woman 1 
 
 When the engine first went wrong I wasn't in the 
 least worried. He fixed it, and we went on. Then 
 it stopped and we drifted : the moon went down and 
 it was cold, and finally Geoffrey made me curl up 
 among the cushions. I felt that it must be very 
 late, but Geoffrey showed me his watch, and it was 
 only a little after ten. I knew Peter wouldn't be 
 going to the bridge until eteven, and I hoped by 
 that time we would be home. 
 
 But we weren't. We were far, far down the river. 
 At last I gave up hope of arriving before the house 
 closed, but I knew that I could explain to Mrs. 
 Bower. 
 
 After that I napped and nodded, for I was very 
 tired, and all the time Geoffrey tinkered with the 
 broken motor. Each time that I waked I asked 
 questions but he always quieted me and at last as 
 the dawn began to light the world, a pale gray 
 spectral sort of light, Uncle Rod, I saw that the 
 shore on one side of us was not far away, but on the 
 other it was a mere dark line in the distance double 
 
 198
 
 THE CAVE MAN 
 
 the width that the river is at Bower's. Geoffrey was 
 standing up and steering toward a little pier that 
 stuck its nose into shallow water. Back of the pier 
 was what seemed to be an old warehouse, and in a 
 clump of trees back of that there was a thin church 
 spire. 
 
 I said, " Where are we ? " and he said, " I am not 
 sure, but I am going in to see if I can get the motor 
 mended." 
 
 I couldn't think of anything but how worried the 
 Bowers would be. " You must find a telephone," I 
 told him, " and call Beulah, and let her know what 
 has happened." 
 
 He ran up to the landing and fastened the boat, 
 and then he helped me out. " We will sit here and 
 have a bit of breakfast first," he said ; " there's some 
 coffee left in Brinsley's hot and cold bottle, and 
 some supplies under the stern seat." 
 
 It was really quite cheerful sitting there, eating sar- 
 dines and crackers and olives and orange marmalade. 
 A fresh breeze was blowing, and the river was 
 wrinkled all over its silver surface, and we could see 
 nothing but water ahead of us, straight to the 
 horizon, where there was just the faint streak of a 
 steamer's smoke. 
 
 "We must be almost in the Bay," I said. 
 " Couldn't you have steered up-stream instead of 
 down ? " 
 
 He sat very still for a moment looking at me, and 
 199
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 then he said quickly and sharply, " I didn't want to 
 go up-stream. I wanted to go down. And I came 
 in here because I saw a church spire, and where 
 there is a church there is always a preacher. Will 
 you marry me, Mistress Anne ? " 
 
 At first I thought that he had lost his mind. 
 Uncle Rod, I don't think that I shall ever see a 
 sardine or a cracker without a vision of Geoffrey 
 with his breakfast in his hand and his face as white 
 as chalk above it. 
 
 " That's a very silly joke," I said. " Why should 
 I marry you?" 
 
 He looked at me, and I didn't need any answer, 
 for it came to me then that I had been out all night 
 on the river with him, and that he was thinking of a 
 way to quiet people's tongues 1 
 
 I tried to speak, but my voice shook, and finally I 
 managed to stammer that when we got back I was 
 sure it would be all right. 
 
 " It won't be all right," he said ; " the world will 
 have things to say about you, and I'd rather die 
 than have them say it. And I could make you 
 happy, Anne." 
 
 Then I told him that I did not love him, that he 
 was my dear friend, my brother and suddenly his 
 face grew red, and he came over and caught hold of 
 my hands. " I am not your brother," he said. " I 
 want you whether you want me or not. I could 
 make you love me I've got to have you in my life, 
 
 200
 
 THE CAVE MAN 
 
 I am not going on alone to meet darkness and 
 despair." 
 
 Oh, Uncle Rod, then I knew and I looked straight 
 at him and asked : " Geoffrey Fox, did you break the 
 motor ? " 
 
 " It isn't broken," he said ; " there has never been 
 a thing the matter with it." 
 
 I think for the first time that I was a little afraid. 
 Not of him, but of what he had done. 
 
 "Oh, how could you," I said, "how could you?" 
 
 And it was then that he said, " I thought that I 
 could play Cave Man and get away with it." 
 
 After that he told me how much he cared. He 
 said that I had helped him and inspired him. That 
 I had shown him a side of himself that no one else 
 had ever shown. That I had made him believe in 
 himself and in God. That if he didn't have me 
 in his life his future would be dead. He begged 
 and begged me to let him take me into the little 
 town and find some one to marry us. He said that 
 if we went back I would be lost to him that that 
 Brooks would get me that was the way he put it, 
 Uncle Rod. He said that he was going blind ; that 
 I hadn't any heart ; that he would love me as no one 
 else could ; that he would write his books for me ; 
 that he would spend his whole life making it up 
 to me. 
 
 I don't know how I held out against him. But I 
 did. Something in me seemed to say that I must 
 
 201
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 hold out. Some sense of dignity and of self-respect, 
 and at last I conquered. 
 
 "I will not marry you," I said; "don't speak of 
 it again. I am going back to Bower's. I am not a 
 heroine of a melodrama, and there's no use to act as 
 if I had done an unpardonable thing. I haven't, and 
 the Bowers won't think it, and nobody else will 
 know. But you have hurt me more than I can tell 
 by what you have done to-night. When you first 
 came to Bower's there were things about you that I 
 didn't like, but as I came to know you, I thought 
 I had found another man in you. The night at the 
 Crossroads ball you seemed like a big kind brother 
 and I told you what I had suffered, and now you 
 have made me suffer." 
 
 And then oh, I don't quite know how to tell you. 
 He dropped on his knees at my feet and hid his face 
 in my dress and cried hard dry sobs with his 
 hands clutching. 
 
 I just couldn't stand it, Uncle Rod, and pres- 
 ently I was saying, " Oh, you poor boy, you poor 
 
 boy " and I think I smoothed his hair, and he 
 
 whispered, " Can't you ? " and I said, " Oh, Geoffrey, 
 I can't." 
 
 At last he got control of himself. He sat at a 
 little distance from me and told me what he was 
 going to do. 
 
 " I think I was mad," he said. " I can't even ask 
 your forgiveness, for I don't deserve it. I am going 
 
 202
 
 THE CAVE MAN 
 
 up to town to telephone to Beulah, and when I come 
 back I will take you up the river where you can get 
 the train. I shall break the engine and leave it 
 here, so that when Brinsley gets it back there will 
 be nothing to spoil our story." 
 
 He was gone half an hour. When he came he 
 brought me a hat. He had bought it at the one 
 little store where he had telephoned, and he had 
 bought one for himself. I think we both laughed a 
 little when we put them on, although it wasn't a 
 laughing matter, but we did look funny. 
 
 He unfastened the boat, and we turned up the 
 river and in about an hour we came into quite a 
 thriving port with the Sunday quiet over everything, 
 and Geoffrey did things to the engine that put it out 
 of commission, and then he left it with a man on the 
 pier, and we took the train. 
 
 It seems that all night at Bower's they were look- 
 ing for us. They even took other boats, and fol- 
 lowed. And they called. I know that if Geoffrey 
 heard them call he didn't answer. 
 
 Every one seemed to accept our explanation. 
 Perhaps they thought it queer. But I can't help 
 that. 
 
 Geoffrey is going away to-morrow. When we 
 were alone in the hall for a moment he told me that 
 he was going. " If you can ever forgive me," he 
 said, "will you write and tell me? What I have 
 done may seem unforgivable. But when a man 
 
 203
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 dreams a great deal he sometimes thinks that he 
 can make his dreams come true." 
 
 Uncle Rod, I think the worst thing in the whole 
 wide world is to be disappointed in people. As soon 
 as school closes I am coming back to you. Per- 
 haps you can make me see the sunsets. And what 
 do you say about life now? Is it what we make it? 
 Did I have anything to do with this mad adventure? 
 Yet the memory of it will always smirch. 
 
 And if life isn't what we make it, where is our 
 hope and where are our sunsets ? Tell me that, you 
 old dear. ANNE. 
 
 P. S. When I opened my door just now, I found 
 that Geoffrey had left on the threshold his little Na- 
 poleon, and a letter. I am sending the letter to you. 
 I cried over it, and I am afraid it is blurred but I 
 haven't time to make a copy before the mail goes. 
 
 What Geoffrey said : 
 
 MY LITTLE CHILD : 
 
 I am calling you that because there is some- 
 thing so young and untouched about you. If I were 
 an artist I should paint you as young Psyche and 
 there should be a hint of angels' wings in the air 
 and it should be spring with a silver dawn. But if 
 I could paint should I ever be able to put on canvas 
 the light in your eyes when you have talked to me 
 by the fire, my kind little friend whom I have lost ? 
 
 204
 
 THE CAVE MAN 
 
 I cannot even now understand the mood that pos- 
 sessed me. Yet I will be frank. I saw you go into 
 the wood with Richard Brooks. I felt that if he 
 should say to you what I was sure he wanted to say 
 that there would be no chance for me so I hurried 
 after you. The thing which was going to happen 
 must not happen ; and I arrived in time. After that 
 I told Brooks as we walked back that I was going 
 to marry you, and I took you out in my boat intend- 
 ing to make my words come true. 
 
 These last few days have been strange days. 
 Perhaps when I have described them you may find 
 it in your heart to feel sorry for me. The book is 
 finished. That of itself has left me with a sense of 
 loss, as if I had put away from me something that 
 had been a part of me. Then I am going blind. 
 Do you know what that means, the desperate mean- 
 ing ? To lose the light out of your life never to see 
 the river as I saw it this morning ? Never to see the 
 moonlight or the starlight never to see your face ? 
 
 The specialist has given me a few months and 
 then darkness. 
 
 Was it selfishness to want to tie you to a blind 
 man ? If you knew that you were losing the light 
 wouldn't you want to steal a star to illumine the 
 night? and you were my Star. 
 
 I am going now to my little sister, Mimi. She 
 leaves the convent in a few days. There are just the 
 two of us. I have been a wayward chap, loving my 
 
 205
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 own way ; it will be a sorry thing for her to find, I 
 fancy, that henceforth I shall be in leading strings. 
 
 It is because of this thing that is coming that I 
 am begging you still to be my friend to send me 
 now and then a little letter ; that I may feel in the 
 night that you are holding out your hand to me. 
 There can be no greater punishment than your com- 
 plete silence, no greater purgatory than the thought 
 that I have forfeited your respect. Looking into the 
 future I can see no way to regain it, but if the day 
 ever comes when a Blind Beggar can serve you, you 
 will show that you have forgiven him by asking that 
 service of him. 
 
 I am leaving my little Napoleon for you. You 
 once called him a little great man. Perhaps those 
 of us who have some elements of greatness find our 
 balance in something that is small and mean and 
 mad. 
 
 Will you tell Brooks that you are not bound to me 
 in any way ? It is best that you should do it. I 
 shall hope for a line from you. If it does not come 
 if I have indeed lost my little friend through my own 
 fault then indeed the shadows will shut me in. 
 
 GEOFFREY. 
 
 Uncle Rodman writes : 
 
 MY BELOVED NIECE : 
 
 Once upon a time you and I read together 
 " The Arabian Nights," and when we had finished 
 
 206
 
 THE CAFE MAN 
 
 the first book you laid your little hand on my knee 
 and looked up at me. " Is it true, Uncle Rod ? " 
 you asked. "Oh, Uncle Rod, is it true?" And I 
 said, " What it tells about the Roc's egg and the 
 Old Man of the Sea and the Serpent is not true, but 
 what it says about the actions and motives of people 
 is true, because people have acted in that way and 
 have thought like that through all the ages, and 
 the tales have lived because of it, and have been 
 written in all languages." I was sure, when I said it, 
 that you did not quite understand ; but you were to 
 grow to it, which was all that was required. 
 
 Blessed child, what your Geoffrey Fox has done, 
 though I hate him for it and blame him, is what other 
 hotheads have done. The protective is not the 
 primitive masculine instinct. Men have thought of 
 themselves first and of women afterward since the 
 beginning of time. Only with Christianity was 
 chivalry born in them. And since many of our 
 youths have elected to be pagan, what can you 
 expect ? 
 
 So your Geoffrey Fox being pagan, primitive 
 primordial, whatever it is now the fashion to call it, 
 reverted to type, and you were the victim. 
 
 I have read his letter and might find it in my heart 
 to forgive him were it not that he has made you suf- 
 fer ; but that I cannot forgive ; although, indeed, his 
 coming blindness is something that pleads for him. 
 and his fear of it and his fear of losing you. 
 
 207
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 I am glad that you are coming home to me. 
 Margaret and her family are going away, and we 
 can have their big house to ourselves during the 
 summer. We shall like that, I am sure, and we shall 
 have many talks, and try to straighten out this mat- 
 ter of dreams and of sunsets, which is really very 
 important, and not in the least to be ignored. 
 
 But let me leave this with you to ponder on. You 
 remember how you have told me that when you were 
 a tiny child you walked once between me and my 
 good old friend, General Ross, and you heard it said 
 by one of us that life was what we made it. Before that 
 you had always cried when it rained ; now you were 
 anxious that the rain might come so that you could 
 see if you could really keep from crying. And when 
 the rain arrived you were so immensely entertained 
 that you didn't shed a tear, and you went to bed that 
 night feeling like a conqueror, and never again cried 
 out against the elements. 
 
 It would have been dreadful if all your life you 
 had gone on crying about rain, wouldn't it ? And 
 isn't this adventure your rainy day ? You rose 
 above it, dearest child. I am proud of the way you 
 handled your mad lover. 
 
 Life is what we make it. Never doubt that. 
 " He knows the water best who has waded through 
 it," and I have lived long and have learned my les- 
 son. When I knew that I could paint no more 
 real pictures I knew that I must have dream pic- 
 
 208
 
 THE CAFE MAN 
 
 tures to hang on the walls of memory. Shall I 
 make you a little catalogue of them, dear heart 
 thus : 
 
 No. i. Your precious mother sewing by the west 
 window in our shadowed sitting-room, her head 
 haloed by the sunset. 
 
 No. 2. Anne in a blue pinafore, with the wind 
 blowing her hair back on a gray March morning. 
 
 No. 3. Anne in a white frock amid a blur of 
 candle-light on Christmas 
 
 Oh, my list would be long ! People have said 
 that I have lacked pride because I have chosen to 
 take my troubles philosophically. There have been 
 times when my soul has wept. I have cried often 
 on my rainy days. But there have always been 
 the sunsets and after that the stars. 
 
 I fear that I have been but little help to you. But 
 you know my love blessed one. And the eager- 
 ness with which I await your coming. Ever your 
 own UNCLE. 
 
 209
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 In Which There is Much Said of Marriage and of 
 Giving in Marriage. 
 
 EVE'S green-eyed cat sat on a chair and watched 
 the flame-colored fishes. It was her morning 
 amusement. When her mistress came down she 
 would have her cream and her nap. In the mean- 
 time, the flashing, golden things in the clear water 
 aroused an ancient instinct. She reached out a quick 
 paw and patted the water, flinging showers of spark- 
 ling drops on her sleek fur. 
 
 Aunt Maude, eating waffles and reading her morn- 
 ing paper, approved her. " I hope you'll catch 
 them," she said, " especially the turtles and the tad- 
 poles the idea of having such things where you 
 eat." 
 
 The green-eyed cat licked her wet paw, then she 
 jumped down from the chair and trotted to the 
 door to meet Eve, who picked her up and hugged 
 her. " Pats," she demanded, " what have you been 
 doing? Your little pads are wet." 
 
 " She's been fishing," said Aunt Maude, " in your 
 aquarium. She has more sense than I thought." 
 
 210
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 Eve, pouring cream into a crystal dish, laughed. 
 " Pats is as wise as the ages you can see it in her 
 eyes. She doesn't say anything, she just looks. 
 Women ought to follow her example. It's the mys- 
 terious, the silent, that draws men. Now Polly 
 prattles and prattles, and nobody listens, and we 
 all get a little tired of her; don't we, Polly?" 
 
 She set the cream carefully by the green cushion, 
 and Pats, classically posed on her haunches, lapped 
 it luxuriously. The Polly-parrot coaxed and whee- 
 dled and was rewarded with her morning biscuit. 
 The flame-colored fishes rose to the snowy particles 
 which Eve strewed on the surface of the water, and 
 then with all of her family fed, Eve turned to the 
 table, sat down, and pulled away Aunt Maude's 
 paper. 
 
 " My dear," the old lady protested. 
 
 " I want to talk to you," Eve announced. " Aunt 
 Maude, I'm going to marry Dicky." 
 
 Aunt Maude pushed back her plate of waffles. 
 The red began to rise in her cheeks. " Oh, of all 
 the fools " 
 
 " ' He who calleth his brother a fool ' " Eve 
 
 murmured pensively. "Aunt Maude, I'm in love 
 with him." 
 
 " You're in love with yourself," tartly, " and with 
 having your own way. The husband for you is 
 Philip Meade. But he wants you, and so you 
 don't want him." 
 
 211
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Dicky wants me, too," Eve said, a little wist- 
 fully ; " you mustn't forget that, Aunt Maude." 
 
 " I'm not forgetting it." Then sharply, " Shall 
 you go to live at Crossroads?" 
 
 " No. Austin has made him an offer. He's com- 
 ing back to town." 
 
 " What do you expect to live on ? " 
 
 Silence. Then, uncertainly, " I thought perhaps 
 until he gets on his feet you'd make us an allow- 
 ance." 
 
 The old lady exploded in a short laugh. She 
 gathered up her paper and her spectacles case and 
 her bag of fancy work. Then she rose. " Not if 
 you marry Richard Brooks. You may as well know 
 that now as later, Eve. All your life you have 
 shaken the plum tree and have gathered the fruit. 
 You may come to your senses when you find there 
 isn't any tree to shake." 
 
 The deep red in the cheeks of the old woman was 
 matched by the red that stained Eve's fairness. 
 " Keep your money," she said, passionately ; " I 
 can get along without it. You've always made me 
 feel like a pauper, Aunt Maude." 
 
 The old woman's hand went up. There was 
 about her a dignity not to be ignored. " I think 
 you are saying more than you mean, Eve. I have 
 tried to be generous." 
 
 They were much alike as they faced each other, 
 the same clear cold eyes, the same set of the head, 
 
 212
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 the only difference Eve's youth and slenderness and 
 radiant beauty. Perhaps in some far distant past 
 Aunt Maude had been like Eve. Perhaps in some 
 far distant future Eve's soft lines would stiffen into a 
 second edition of Aunt Maude. 
 
 " I have tried to be generous," Aunt Maude re- 
 peated. 
 
 " You have been. I shouldn't have said that. 
 But, Aunt Maude, it hasn't been easy to eat the 
 bread of dependence." 
 
 "You are feeling that now," said the old lady 
 shrewdly, " because you are ready for the great 
 adventure of being poor with your young Richard. 
 Well, try it. You'll wish more than once that you 
 were back with your old plum tree." 
 
 Flash of eye met flash of eye. " I shall never ask 
 for another penny," Eve declared. 
 
 " I shall buy your trousseau, of course, and set 
 you up in housekeeping, but when a woman is 
 married her husband must take care of her." And 
 Aunt Maude sailed away with her bag and her 
 spectacles and her morning paper, and Eve was left 
 alone in the black and white breakfast room, where 
 Pats slept on her green cushion, the Polly-parrot 
 swung in her ring, and the flame-colored fishes hung 
 motionless in the clear water. 
 
 Eve ate no breakfast. She sat with her chin in 
 her hand and tried to think it out. Aunt Maude had 
 not proved tractable, and Richard's income would 
 
 213
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 be small. Never having known poverty, she was 
 not appalled by the prospect of it. Her imagina- 
 tion cast a glamour over the future. She saw her- 
 self making a home for Richard. She saw herself 
 inviting Pip and Winifred Ames and Tony to small 
 suppers and perfectly served little dinners. She did 
 not see herself washing dishes or cooking the meals. 
 Knowing nothing of the day's work, how could she 
 conceive its sordidness ? 
 
 She roused herself presently to go and write notes 
 to her friends. Triumphant notes which told of her 
 happiness. 
 
 Her note to Pip brought him that night. He 
 came in white-faced. As she went toward him, he 
 rose to meet her and caught her hands in a hard 
 grip, looking down at her. "You're mine, Eve. 
 Do you think I am going to let any one else have 
 you?" 
 
 " Don't be silly, Pip." 
 
 " Is it silly to say that there will never be for me 
 any other woman ? I shall love you until I die. If 
 that is foolishness, I never want to be wise." 
 
 He was kissing her hands now. 
 
 "Don't, Pip, don't." 
 
 She wrenched herself away from him, and stood 
 as it were at bay. " You'll get over it." 
 
 " Shall I ? How little you know me, Eve. I 
 haven't even given you up. If I were a story-book 
 sort of hero I'd bestow my blessing on you and 
 
 214
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 Brooks and go and drive an ambulance in France, 
 and break my heart at long distance. But I shan't. 
 I shall stay right here on the job, and see that 
 Brooks doesn't get you." 
 
 " Pip, I didn't think you were so small." 
 
 The telephone rang. Eve answered it. " It was 
 Winifred to wish me happiness," she said, as she 
 came in from the hall. 
 
 J5he was blushing faintly. He gave her a keen 
 glance. " What else did she say ? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " You're fibbing. Tell me the truth, Eve." 
 
 She yielded to his masterfulness. 
 
 " Well, she said' I wanted it to be Pip.' " 
 
 " Good old Win, I'll send her a bunch of roses." 
 He wandered restlessly about the room, then came 
 back to her. " Why, Eve, I planned the house our 
 house. It was to have the sea in front of it and a 
 forest behind it, and your room was to have a wide 
 window and a balcony, and under the balcony there 
 was to be a rose garden." 
 
 " How sure you were of me, Pip." 
 
 " I have never been sure. But what I want, I 
 get. Remember that, dear girl. When I shut my 
 eyes I can see you at the head of my table, in a high 
 gold chair like a throne." 
 
 She stared at him in amazement. " Pip, it 
 doesn't sound a bit like you." 
 
 " No. What a man thinks is apt to be different. 
 215
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 On the surface I'm a rather practical sort of fellow. 
 But when I plan my future with you I am playing 
 king to your queen, and I'm not half bad at it." 
 
 And now it was she who was restless. " If I mar- 
 ried you, what would I get out of it but money ? " 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " You know I don't mean it that way. But I like 
 to think that I can help Richard in his career." 
 
 "You're not made of that kind of stuff. You 
 want your own good time. Women who help men 
 to achieve must be content to lose their looks and 
 their figures and to do without pretty clothes, and 
 you wouldn't be content. You want to live your own 
 life, and be admired and petted and envied, Eve." 
 
 She faced him, blazing. " You and Aunt Maude 
 and Win are all alike. You think I can't be happy 
 unless I live in the lap of luxury. Well, I can tell 
 you this, I'd rather have a crust of bread with 
 Richard than live in a palace with you, Pip." 
 
 He stood up. "You don't mean it. But you 
 needn't have put it quite that way, and some day 
 you'll be sorry, and you'll tell me that you're sorry. 
 Tell me now, Eve." 
 
 He put his hands on her shoulders, holding her 
 with a masterful grip. Her eyes met his and fell. 
 " Oh, I hate your sureness." 
 
 " Some day you are going to love it. Look at 
 me, Eve." 
 
 She forced herself to do so. But she was not at 
 216
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 ease. Then almost wistfully she yielded. " I am 
 sorry, Pip." 
 
 His hands dropped from her shoulders. " Good 
 little girl." 
 
 He kissed both of her hands before he went away. 
 " I am glad we are friends " that was his way of 
 putting it " and you mustn't forget that some day 
 we are going to be more than that," and when he 
 had gone she found herself still shaken by the sure- 
 ness of his attitude. 
 
 Pip on his way down-town stopped in to order 
 Winifred's roses, and the next day he went to her 
 apartment and unburdened his heart. 
 
 " If it was in the day of duels I'd call him out. 
 Just at this moment I am in the mood for pistols or 
 poison, I'm not sure which." 
 
 " Why not try patience ? " 
 
 He glanced at her quickly. "You think she'll 
 tire ? " 
 
 "I think it can never happen. For Richard's 
 sake I hope not." 
 
 " Why for his sake ? " 
 
 Winifred smiled. " I'd like to see him marry 
 little Anne." 
 
 " The school-teacher ? " 
 
 "Yes. Oh, I am broken-hearted to think he's 
 spoiling Nancy's dreams for him. There was some- 
 thing so idyllic in them. And now he'll marry Eve." 
 
 " You say that as if it were a tragedy." 
 217
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " It is, for him and for her. Eve was never made 
 to be poor." 
 
 "Don't tell her that. She took my head off. 
 Said she'd rather have a crust of bread with Rich- 
 ard " 
 
 " Oh, oh ! " 
 
 " Than a palace with me." 
 
 " Poor Pip. It wasn't nice of her." 
 
 " I shall make her eat her words." 
 
 Winifred shook her head. " Don't be hard on 
 her, Pip. We women are so helpless in our loves. 
 Richard might make her happy if he cared enough, 
 but he doesn't. Perhaps Eve will be broadened and 
 deepened by it all. I don't know. No one knows." 
 
 " I know this. That you and Tony seem to get a 
 lot out of things, Win." 
 
 "Of marriage? We do. Yet we've had all of 
 the little antagonisms and differences. But under- 
 neath it we know that we're made for each other. 
 And that helps. It has helped us to push the wrong 
 things out of our lives and to hold on to the right 
 ones." 
 
 Philip's young face was set. " I wanted to have 
 my chance with Eve. We are young and pretty 
 light-weight on the surface, but life together might 
 make us a bit more like you and Tony. And now 
 Richard is spoiling things." 
 
 Back at Crossroads, Nancy was trying to convince 
 her son that he was not spoiling things for her. " I 
 
 218
 
 I SHALL STAY WITH YOU
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 have always been such a dreamer, dear boy. It was 
 silly for me to think that I could stand between you 
 and your big future. I have written to Sulie Tyson, 
 and she'll stay with me, and you can run down for 
 week-ends and I'll always have David." 
 
 " Mother, let me go to Eve and tell her " 
 
 " Tell her what ? " 
 
 " That I shall stay with you." 
 
 She was white with the whiteness which had never 
 left her since he had told her that he was going to 
 marry Eve. 
 
 " Hickory-Dickory, if I kept you here in the end 
 you would hate me." 
 
 "Mother!" 
 
 "Not consciously. But I should be a barrier 
 and you'd find yourself wishing for freedom. If I 
 let you go you'll come back now and then and 
 be glad." 
 
 He gathered her up in his arms and declared 
 fiercely that he would not leave her, but she stayed 
 firm. And so the thing was settled, and as soon as 
 he could settle his affairs at Crossroads he was to go 
 to Austin. 
 
 Anne, writing to Uncle Rod about it, said : 
 
 "St. Michael is to marry the Lily-of-the-Field. 
 You see, after all, he likes that kind of thing, though 
 I had fancied that he did not. She is not as fine 
 and simple as he is, and somehow I can't help feel- 
 ing sorry. 
 
 219
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " But that isn't the worst of it, Uncle Bobs. He 
 is going back to New York. And now what be- 
 comes of his sunsets? I don't believe he ever had 
 any. And oh, his poor little mother. She is fooling 
 him and making him think that it is just as it should 
 be and that she was foolish to expect anything else. 
 But to me it is unspeakable that he should leave 
 her. But he'll have Eve Chesley. Think of chang- 
 ing Nancy Brooks for Eve 1 " 
 
 It was at Beulah's wedding that Anne and Richard 
 saw each other for the last time before his departure. 
 
 Beulah was married in the big front room at 
 Bower's. She was married at six o'clock because it 
 was easy for the farmer folk to come at that time, 
 and because the evening could be given up after- 
 ward to the reception and a big supper and Beulah 
 and Eric could take the ten o'clock train for New 
 York. 
 
 She had no bridesmaids except Peggy, who was 
 quite puffed up with the importance of her office. 
 Anne had instructed her, and at the last moment held 
 a rehearsal on the side porch. 
 
 " Now, play I am the bride, Peggy." 
 
 "You look like a bride," Peggy said. "Aren't 
 you ever going to be a bride, Miss Anne?" 
 
 " I am not sure, Peggy. Perhaps no one will ever 
 ask me." 
 
 " I'd ask you if I were a man," Peggy reassured 
 her. " Now, go on and show me, Anne." 
 
 220
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 11 You must take Beulah's bouquet when she hands 
 it to you, and after she is married you must give it 
 back to her, and " 
 
 " And then I must kiss her." 
 
 " You must let Eric kiss her first" 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 " Because he will be her husband." 
 
 " But I've been her sister for ever and ever." 
 
 " Oh, but a husband, Peggy. Husbands are very 
 important." 
 
 " Why are they ? " 
 
 " Well, they give you a new name and a new 
 house, and you have new clothes to marry them in, 
 and you go away with them on a honeymoon." 
 
 " What's a honeymoon ? " 
 
 " The honey is for the sweetness, and the moon is 
 for the madness, Peggy, dear." 
 
 " Do people always go away on trains for their 
 honeymoons ? " 
 
 " Not always. I shouldn't like a train. I should 
 like to get into a boat with silver sails, and sail 
 straight down a singing river into the heart of the 
 sunset." 
 
 " Well, of course, you couldn't," said the plump 
 and practical Peggy, " but it sounds nice to say it. 
 Does our river sing, Miss Anne ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What does it say ? " 
 
 Anne stretched out her arms with a little yearning 
 221
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 gesture. "It says ' Come and see the world, see 
 the world, see the world ! ' 
 
 " It never says that to me." 
 
 " Perhaps you haven't ears to hear, Peggy." 
 
 It was a very charming wedding. Richard was 
 there and Nancy, and David and Brinsley. The 
 country folk came from far and wide, and there was 
 a brave showing of Old Gentlemen from Bower's who 
 brought generous gifts for Peter's pretty daughter. 
 
 Richard, standing back of his mother during the 
 ceremony, could see over her head to where Anne 
 waited not far from Peggy to prompt her in her 
 bridesmaid's duties. She was in white. Her dark 
 hair was swept up in the fashion which she had bor- 
 rowed from Eve. She seemed very small and slight 
 against the background of Bower's buxom kinsfolk. 
 
 As he caught her eye he smiled at her, but she did 
 not smile back. She felt that she could not. How 
 could he smile with that little mother drooping be- 
 fore his very eyes ? How could he ? 
 
 She found herself later, when the refreshments 
 were served, brooding over Nancy. The little lady 
 tasted nothing, but was not permitted to refuse the 
 cup of tea which Anne brought to her. 
 
 " I had it made especially for you," she said ; 
 " you looked so tired." 
 
 " I am tired. You see we are having rather stren- 
 uous days." 
 
 " I know." 
 
 222
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 " It isn't easy to let him go." 
 
 " It isn't easy for anybody to let him go." 
 
 The eyes of the two women went to where Rich- 
 ard in the midst of a protesting group was trying to 
 explain his reasons for deserting Crossroads. 
 
 He couldn't explain. They had a feeling that he 
 was turning his back on them. " It's hard lines to 
 have a good doctor and then lose him," was the gen- 
 eral sentiment. He was made to feel that it would 
 have been better not to have come than to end by 
 deserting. 
 
 He was aware that he had forfeited something 
 precious, and he voiced his thought when 'he joined 
 his mother and Anne. 
 
 " I'll never have a practice quite like this. Neigh- 
 borhood ties are something they know little about in 
 cities." 
 
 His mother smiled up at him bravely. " There'll 
 be other things." 
 
 " Perhaps ; " he patted her hand. Then he fired a 
 question at Anne. " Do you think I ought to go ? " 
 
 " How can I tell ? " Her eyes met his candidly. 
 " I felt when you came that I couldn't understand 
 how a man could bury himself here. And now I am 
 wondering how you can leave. It seems as if you 
 belong." 
 
 " I know what you mean." 
 
 She went on : " And I can't quite think of this 
 dear lady alone." 
 
 223
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Nancy stopped her. " Don't speak of that, my 
 dear. I don't want you to speak of it. It is right 
 that Richard should go." 
 
 Anne was telling herself passionately that it was 
 not right, when Beulah sent for her, and presently 
 the little bride came down in her going-away gown, 
 to be joined by Eric in the stiff clothes which seemed 
 to rob him of the picturesqueness which belonged to 
 him in less formal moments. 
 
 But Richard had no eyes for the bride and groom ; 
 he saw only Anne at the head of the stairway where 
 he had first talked to her. How long ago it seemed, 
 and how sweet she had been, and how shy. 
 
 The train was on the bridge, and a laughing 
 crowd hurried out into the night to meet it. Peggy 
 in the lead threw roses with a prodigal hand. " Kiss 
 me, Beulah," she begged at the last. 
 
 Beulah bent down to her, then was lifted in Eric's 
 strong arms to the platform. Then the train drew 
 out and she was gone I 
 
 Alone on the stairway, Anne and Richard had a 
 moment before the crowd swept back upon them. 
 
 " Dr. Brooks, take your mother with you." 
 
 " She won't go." 
 
 " Then stay with her." 
 
 He caught at the edge of her flowing sleeve, and 
 held it as if he would anchor her to him. " Do you 
 want me to stay ? " 
 
 Her eyes came up to him. She saw in them some- 
 224
 
 MARRIAGE 
 
 thing which lifted her above and beyond her doubts 
 of him. She had an ineffable sense of having found 
 something which she could never lose. 
 
 Then as he drew back he was stammering, " For- 
 give me. I have been wanting to wish you happi- 
 ness. Geoffrey told me " 
 
 And now Peggy bore down upon them and all 
 the heedless happy crowd, and Richard said, "Good- 
 night," and was gone. 
 
 Yet when she was left alone, Anne felt desperately 
 that she should have shouted after him, " I am not 
 going to marry Geoffrey Fox. I am not going to 
 be married at all." 
 
 225
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 In Which Anne Asks and Jimmie Answers. 
 
 MONEYLESS man,' " said Uncle Rod, 
 " ' goes quickly through the market.' " 
 
 He had a basket on his arm. Anne, who was at 
 her easel, looked up. " What did you buy ? " 
 
 He laughed. His laugh had in it a quality of youth 
 which seemed to contradict the signs of age which 
 were upon him. Yet even these signs were modified 
 by the carefulness of his attire and the distinction 
 of his carriage. Great-uncle Rodman had been a 
 dandy in his day, and even now his Norfolk coat 
 and knickerbockers, his long divided beard and 
 flowing tie gave him an air half foreign, wholly his 
 own. 
 
 In his basket was a melon, crusty rolls, peaches 
 and a bottle of cream. 
 
 ".Such extravagance 1 " Anne said, as he showed 
 her the bottle. 
 
 " It was the price of two chops. And not a lamb 
 the less for it. Two chops would have been an ex- 
 travagance, and now we shall feast innocently and 
 economically." 
 
 " Where shall we eat ? " Anne asked. 
 226
 
 ANNE ASKS 
 
 " Under the oak ? " 
 
 She shook her head. " Too sunny." 
 
 ''In the garden?" 
 
 "Not till to-night people can see us from the 
 road." 
 
 " You choose then." It was a game that they 
 had played ever since she had come to him. It 
 gave to each meal the atmosphere of an adventure. 
 
 " I choose," she clapped her hands, " I choose 
 by the fish-pond, Uncle Rod." 
 
 The fish-pond was at the end of the garden walk. 
 Just beyond it a wooden gate connected a high 
 brick wall and opened upon an acre or two of pas- 
 ture where certain cows browsed luxuriously. The 
 brick wall and the cows and the quiet of the corner 
 made the fish-pond seem miles away from the town 
 street which was faced by the front of Cousin Mar- 
 garet's house. 
 
 The fish-pond was a favorite choice in the game 
 played by Anne and Uncle Rod. But they did not 
 always choose it because that would have made it 
 commonplace and would have robbed it of its 
 charm. 
 
 Anne, rising to arrange the tray, was stopped by 
 Uncle Rodman. " Sit still, my dear ; I'll get things 
 ready." 
 
 To see him at his housekeeping was a pleasant 
 sight. He liked it, and gave to it his whole mind. 
 The peeling of the peaches with a silver knife, the 
 
 227
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 selection of a bowl of old English ware to put them 
 in, and making of the coffee in a copper machine, 
 the fresh linen, the roses as a last perfect touch. 
 
 Anne carried the tray, for his weak arm could not 
 be depended upon ; and by the fish-pond they ate 
 their simple meal. 
 
 The old fishes had crumbs and came to the top of 
 the water to get them, and a cow looking over the 
 gate was rewarded by the remaining half of the 
 crusty roll. She walked away presently to give 
 place to a slender youth who had crossed the fields 
 and now stood with his hat off looking in. 
 
 "If it isn't Anne," he said, "and Uncle Rod." 
 
 Uncle Rod stood up. He did not smile and he 
 did not ask the slender youth to enter. But Anne 
 was more hospitable. 
 
 " Come in, Jimmie," she said. " I can't offer you 
 any lunch because we have eaten it all up. But 
 there's some coffee." 
 
 Jimmie entered with alacrity. He had come back 
 from New York in a mood of great discontent, to 
 meet the pleasant news that Anne Warfield was in 
 town. He had flown at once to find her. If he had 
 expected the Fatted Calf, he found none. Uncle 
 Rodman left them at once. He had a certain 
 amount of philosophy, but it had never taught him 
 patience with Jimmie Ford. 
 
 Jimmie drank a cup of coffee, and talked of his 
 summer. 
 
 228
 
 ANNE ASKS 
 
 "Saw your Dr. Richard in New York, out at 
 Austin's." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He's going to marry Eve." 
 
 "Is he?" 
 
 "Yes. I don't understand what she sees in him 
 he isn't good style." 
 
 "He doesn't have to be." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Men like Richard Brooks mean more to the 
 world than just clothes, Jimmie." 
 
 " I don't see it." 
 
 " You wouldn't." 
 
 " Why shouldn't I ? " 
 
 " Well, you look so nice in your clothes and you 
 need them to look nice in." 
 
 He stared at her. He felt dimly that she was 
 making fun of him. 
 
 " From the way you put it," he said, with irrita- 
 tion, " from the way you put it any one might think 
 that it was just my clothes " 
 
 "That make you attractive? Oh, no, Jimmie. 
 You have nice eyes and and a way with you." 
 
 She was sewing on a scrap of fancy work, and 
 her own eyes were on it. She was as demure as 
 possible, but she seemed unusually and disconcert- 
 ingly self-possessed. 
 
 And now Jimmie became plaintive. Plaintiveness 
 had always been his strong suit with Anne. He 
 
 229
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 was eager for sympathy. His affair with Eve had 
 hurt his vanity. 
 
 " I have never seen a girl like her. She doesn't 
 care what the world thinks. She doesn't care what 
 any one thinks. She goes right along taking 
 everything that comes her way and giving noth- 
 ing." 
 
 " Did you want her to give you anything, 
 Jimmie ?" 
 
 "Me? Not me. She's a beauty and all that. 
 But I wouldn't marry her if she were as rich as 
 Rockefeller and she isn't. Her money is her Aunt 
 Maude's." 
 
 " Oh, Jimmie sour grapes." 
 
 "Sour nothing. She isn't my kind. She said 
 one day that if she wanted a man she'd ask him to 
 marry her. That it was a woman's right to choose. 
 I can't stand that sort of thing." 
 
 " But if she should ask you, Jimmie ?" 
 
 Again he stared at her. " I jolly well shouldn't 
 give her a chance. Not after the way she treated 
 me." 
 
 "What way?" 
 
 " Oh, making me think I was the whole thing 
 and then throwing me down." 
 
 " Oh, so you don't like being thrown down ? " 
 
 " No. I don't like that kind of a woman. You 
 know the kind of woman I like, Anne." 
 
 The caressing note in his voice came to her like 
 230
 
 ANNE ASKS 
 
 an echo of other days. But now it had no power to 
 move her. 
 
 " I am not sure that I do know the kind of woman 
 you like tell me." 
 
 " Oh, I like a woman that is a woman, and makes 
 a man feel that he's the whole thing." 
 
 "But mustn't he be the whole thing to make her 
 feel that he is ? " 
 
 He flung himself out of his chair and stood before 
 her. " Anne," he demanded, " can't you do any- 
 thing but ask questions ? You aren't a bit like you 
 used to be." 
 
 She laid down her work and now he could see her 
 eyes. Such steady eyes ! " No, I'm not like my- 
 self. You see, Jimmie, I have been away for a year, 
 and one learns such a lot in a year." 
 
 He felt a sudden sense of loss. There had always 
 been the old Anne to come back to. The Anne who 
 had believed and had sympathized. Again his voice 
 took on a plaintive note. " Be good to me, girl," 
 he said. Then very low, " Anne, I was half afraid 
 to come to-day." 
 
 " Afraid why ? " 
 
 " Oh, I suppose you think I acted like a cad." 
 
 " What do you think ? " 
 
 " Oh, stop asking questions. It was the only 
 thing to do. You were poor and I was poor, and 
 there wasn't anything ahead of me or of you 
 surely you can't blame me." 
 
 231
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 11 How can I blame you for what was, after all, my 
 great good fortune ? " 
 
 " Your what ? " 
 
 She said it again, quietly, " My great good 
 fortune, Jimmie. I couldn't see it then. Indeed, I 
 was very unhappy and sentimental and cynical over 
 it. But now I know what life can hold for me 
 and what it would not have held if I had married 
 you." 
 
 " Anne, who has been making love to you ? " 
 
 "Jimmie!" 
 
 " Oh, no woman ever talks like that until she has 
 found somebody else. And I thought you were 
 constant." 
 
 "Constant to what?" 
 
 " To the thought to to the thought of what we 
 might be to each other some day." 
 
 " And in the meantime you were asking Eve to 
 marry you. Was it her money that you wanted ? " 
 
 "Her money 1 Do you think I am a fortune- 
 hunter?" 
 
 " I am asking you, Jimmie ? " 
 
 " For Heaven's sake, stop asking questions. You 
 know how a pretty woman goes to my head. And 
 she's the kind that flits away to make you fol- 
 low. I can't fancy your doing that sort of a thing, 
 Anne." 
 
 " No," quietly, " women like myself, Jimmie, go 
 on expecting that things will come to them and 
 
 232
 
 ANNE ASKS 
 
 when they don't come, we keep on expecting. But 
 somehow we never seem to be able to reach out our 
 hands to take what we might have." 
 
 He began to feel better. This was the wistful 
 Anne of the old days. 
 
 " There has never been any one like you, Anne. 
 It seems good to be here. Women like Eve madden 
 a man, but your kind are so comfortable." 
 
 Always the old Jimmie ! Wanting his ease 1 
 After he had left her she sat looking out over the 
 gate beyond the fields to the gold of the west 
 
 When at last she went up to the house Uncle Rod 
 had had his nap and was in his big chair on the front 
 porch. 
 
 "Jimmie and I are friends again," she told him. 
 
 He looked at her inquiringly. " Real friends?" 
 
 " Surface friends. He is coming again to tell me 
 his troubles and get my sympathy. Uncle Rod, 
 what makes me so clear-eyed all of a sudden ? " 
 
 He smoothed his beard. " My dear, ' the eyes of 
 the hare are one thing, the eyes of the owl another.' 
 You are looking at life from a different point of view. 
 I knew that if you ever met a real man you'd know 
 the difference between him and Jimmie Ford." 
 
 She came over, and standing behind him, put her 
 hands on his shoulders. "I've found him, Uncle 
 Rod." 
 
 "St. Michael?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 233
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Poor little girl." 
 
 " I am not poor, Uncle Rod. I am rich. It is 
 enough to have known him." 
 
 The sunset was showing above the wooden gate. 
 The cows had gone home. The old fish swam 
 lazily in the shadowed water. 
 
 Anne drew her low chair to the old man's side. 
 " Uncle Rod, isn't it queer, the difference between the 
 things we ask for and the things we get ? To have 
 a dream come true doesn't mean always that you 
 must get what you want, does it ? For sometimes 
 you get something that is more wonderful than any 
 dream. And now if you'll listen, and not look at 
 me, I'll tell you all about it, you darling dear." 
 
 It was in late August that Anne received the first 
 proof sheets of Geoffrey's book. " I want you to 
 read it before any one else. It will be dedicated to 
 you and it is better than I dared believe I could 
 never have written it without your help, your in- 
 spiration." 
 
 It was a great book. Anne, remembering the 
 moment the plot had been conceived on that quiet 
 night by Peggy's bedside when she had seen the 
 pussy cat and had heard the tinkling bell, laid it 
 down with a feeling almost of awe. 
 
 She wrote Geoffrey about it. It was her first real 
 letter to him. She had written one little note of for- 
 giveness and of friendliness, but she had felt that for 
 
 234
 
 ANNE ASKS 
 
 a time at least she should do no more than that, 
 and Uncle Rod had commended her resolution. 
 
 " Hot fires had best burn out," he said. 
 
 " If you never do anything else," Anne wrote to 
 Geoffrey, "you can be content. There isn't aline 
 of pot-boiling in it. It is as if you had dipped your 
 pen in magic ink. Rereading it to Uncle Rodman 
 has brought back the nights when we talked it over, 
 and I can't help feeling a little peacock-y to know 
 that I had a part in it. 
 
 " And now I am going to tell you what Uncle 
 Rod's comment was when I finished the very last 
 word. He sat as still as a solemn old statue, and 
 then he said, ' Geoffrey Fox is a great man. No one 
 could have written like that who was sordid of mind 
 or small of soul.' 
 
 " If you knew my Uncle Rodman you would 
 understand all that his opinion stands for. He is 
 never flattering, but he has had much time to think 
 he is like one of the old prophets so that, indeed, I 
 sometimes feel that he ought to sing his sentences 
 like David, instead of saying wise things in an 
 ordinary way. And his proverbs ! he has such a 
 collection, he is making a book of them, and he digs 
 into old volumes in all sorts of languages oh, some 
 day you must know him ! 
 
 " I am going back to Crossroads. It seems that 
 my work lies there. And I have great news for you. 
 I am to live with Mrs. Brooks. She has her cousin, 
 
 235
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Sulie Tyson, with her, but she wants me. And it 
 will be so much better than Bower's. 
 
 " All through Mrs. Nancy's letters I can read her 
 loneliness. She tries to keep it out. But she can't. 
 She is proud of her son's success but she feels the 
 separation intensely. He has his work, she only 
 her thoughts of him and that's the tragedy. 
 
 "In the meantime, here we are at Cousin Mar- 
 garet's doing funny little stunts in the way of cook- 
 ing and catering. We can't afford the kind of 
 housekeeping which requires servants, so it is a case 
 of plain living and high thinking. Uncle Rod hates 
 to eat anything that has been killed, and makes all 
 sorts of excuses not to. He won't call himself a 
 vegetarian, for he thinks that people who label 
 themselves are apt to be cranks. So he does our 
 bit of marketing and comes home triumphant with 
 his basket innocent of birds or beasts, and we live 
 on ambrosia and nectar or the modern equivalent. 
 We are quite classic with our feasts by the old fish- 
 pond at the end of the garden. 
 
 "Cousin Margaret's garden is flaming in the 
 August days with phlox, and is fragrant with day 
 lilies. There's a grass walk and a sun-dial, and best 
 of all, as I have said, the fish-pond. 
 
 " And while I am on the subject of gardens, Uncle 
 Rod rises up in wrath when people insist upon giv- 
 ing the botanical names to all of our lovely blooms. 
 He says that the pedants are taking all of the poetry 
 
 236
 
 ANNE ASKS 
 
 out of language, and it does seem so, doesn't it? 
 Why should we call larkspur Delphinium ? or a for- 
 get-me-not Myostis Palustria y and would a primrose 
 by the river's brim ever be to you or to me primula 
 vulgaris ? Uncle Rod says that a rose by any other 
 name would not smell as sweet ; and it is fortunate 
 that the worst the botanists may do cannot spoil the 
 generic rosa. 
 
 " And now with my talk of Uncle Rod and of Me, 
 I am stringing this letter far beyond all limits, and 
 yet I have not told you half the news. 
 
 " I had a little note from Beulah, and she and 
 Eric are at home in the Playhouse. She loves your 
 silver candlesticks. So many of her presents were 
 practical and she prefers the ' pretties.' 
 
 "You have heard, of course, that Dr. Brooks is to 
 marry Eve Chesley. The wedding will not take 
 place for some time. I wonder if they will live with 
 Aunt Maude. I can't quite imagine Dr. Richard's 
 wings clipped to such a cage." 
 
 She signed herself, "Always your friend, Anne 
 Warfield." 
 
 Far up in the Northern woods Geoffrey read her 
 letter. He could use his eyes a little, but most of 
 the time he lay with them shut and Mimi read to 
 him, or wrote for him at his dictation. He had 
 grown to be very dependent on Mimi ; there were 
 even times when he had waked in the night, groping 
 and calling out, and she had gathered him in her 
 
 237
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 arms and had held him against her breast until he 
 stopped shaking and shivering and saying that he 
 could not see. 
 
 He spoke her name now, and she came to him. 
 He put Anne's letter in her hand. " Read it 1 " and 
 when she had read, he said, " You see she says that 
 I am great and she used to say it. Am I, Mimi ? " 
 
 " Oh, Geoffrey, yes." 
 
 " I want you to make it true, Mimi. Shall I begin 
 my new book to-morrow ? " 
 
 It was what she had wanted, what she had begged 
 that he would do, but he had refused to listen. And 
 now he was listening to another voice ! 
 
 She brought her note-book, and sat beside him. 
 Being ignorant of shorthand she had invented a 
 little system of her own, and she was glad when she 
 could make him laugh over her funny pot-hooks and 
 her straggling sketches. 
 
 Thus in the darkness Geoffrey struggled and 
 strove. "Speaking of candlesticks," he wrote to 
 Anne, " it was as if a thousand candles lighted my 
 world when I read your letter 1 " 
 
 238
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 In Which Pan Pipes to the Stars. 
 
 THAT Richard in New York should miss his 
 mother was inevitable. But he was not home- 
 sick. He was too busy for that. Austin's vogue 
 was tremendous. 
 
 " Every successful man ought to be two men," he 
 told Richard, as they talked together one Sunday 
 night at Austin's place in Westchester, " ' another 
 and himself,' as Browning puts it. Then there 
 would be one to labor and the other to enjoy. I 
 want to retire, and I can't. There's a selfish instinct 
 in all of us to grip and hold. That is why I am 
 pinning my faith to you. You can slip in as I slip 
 out. I have visions of riding to hounds and sailing 
 the seas some day, to say nothing of putting up a 
 good game of golf. But perhaps that's a dream. A 
 man can't get away from his work, not when he 
 loves it." 
 
 " That's why you're such a success, sir," Richard 
 told him, honestly ; " you go to every operation as if 
 it were a banquet." 
 
 Austin laughed. "I'm not such a ghoul. But 
 there's always the wonder of it with me. I some- 
 
 239
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 times wish I had been a churchgoing man, Brooks 
 There isn't much more for me to learn about bodies, 
 but there's much about souls. I have a feeling that 
 some day in some physical experiment I shall find 
 tangible evidence of the spiritual. That's why I say 
 my prayers to Something every night, and I rather 
 think It's God." 
 
 " I know it's God," said Richard, simply, " on 
 such a night as this." 
 
 They were silent in the face of the evening's 
 beauty. The great trees on the old estate were 
 black against a silver sky. White statues shone 
 like pale ghosts among them. Back of Richard 
 and his host, in a semicircle of dark cedars, a marble 
 Pan piped to the stars. 
 
 "And in the cities babies are sleeping on fire 
 escapes," Austin meditated. " If I had had a son 
 I should have sent him to the slums to find his 
 work. But the Fates have given me only Marie- 
 Louise." 
 
 And now his laugh was forced. " Brooks, the 
 Gods have checkmated me. Marie-Louise is the 
 son of her father. I had planned that she should be 
 the daughter of her mother. I sowed some rather 
 wild oats in my youth, and waked in middle age to 
 the knowledge that my materialism had led me 
 astray. So I married an idealist. I wanted my 
 children to have a spiritual background of character 
 such as I have not possessed. And the result of 
 
 240
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 that marriage is Marie-Louise ! If she has a soul 
 it is yet to be discovered." 
 
 " She is young. Give her time." 
 
 " I have been giving her time for eighteen years. 
 I have wanted to see her mother in her, to see some 
 gleam of that exquisite fineness. There are things 
 we men, the most material of us, want in our 
 women, and I want it in Marie-Louise. But she 
 gives back what I have given her nothing more. 
 And I don't know what to do with her." 
 
 " Her mother ? " Richard hinted. 
 
 " Julie is worn out with trying to meet a nature so 
 unlike her own. Our love for each other has made 
 us understand. But neither of us understands 
 Marie-Louise. I sent her away to school, but she 
 wouldn't stay. She likes her home and she hates 
 rules. She loves animals, and if she were a boy she 
 would practice medicine. Being a woman and hav- 
 ing no outlet for her energies, she is freakish. You 
 saw the way she was dressed at dinner." 
 
 " I liked it," Richard said ; " all that dead silver 
 with her red hair." 
 
 " But it is too sophisticated, for a young girl. 
 Why, man, she ought to be in white frocks and 
 pearls, and putting cushions behind her mother's 
 back." 
 
 "You say that because her mother wore white and 
 pearls, and put cushions behind her mother's back. 
 There aren't many of the white-frocks-and-pearls 
 
 241
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 kind left It's a new generation. Perhaps dead 
 silver with red hair is an expression of it. And it is 
 we who don't understand." 
 
 " Perhaps. But it's a problem." Austin rose. *' If 
 you'll excuse me, Brooks, I'll go to my wife. We 
 always read together on Sunday nights." 
 
 He sent Marie-Louise out to Richard. She came 
 through the starlight, a shining figure in her silver 
 dress, with a silver Persian kitten hugged up in her 
 arms. She sat on the sun-dial and swung her jade 
 bracelet for the kitten to play with. 
 
 " Dad and mother are reading the Bible. He 
 doesn't believe in it, and she gets him to listen once 
 a week. And then she reads the prayers for the 
 day. When I was a little girl I had to listen but 
 never again I " 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Why should I listen to things that I don't be- 
 lieve? To-night it is the ten virgins and their 
 lamps. And Dad's pretending that he's interested. 
 I am writing a play about it, but mother doesn't 
 know. The Wise Virgins are Bernard Shaw women 
 who know what they want in the way of husbands 
 and go to it. The Foolish Virgins are the old 
 maids, who think it unwomanly to get ready, and 
 find themselves left in the end 1 " 
 
 The silver kitten clawed at the silver dress, and 
 climbed on her mistress's shoulder. 
 
 " All of the parables make good modern plots. 
 242
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 Mother would be shocked if she knew I was writing 
 them that way. So I don't tell her. Mother is a 
 dear, but she doesn't understand. I should like to 
 tell things to Dad, but he won't listen. If I were a 
 boy he would listen. But he thinks I ought to be 
 like mother." 
 
 She slipped from the sun-dial and came and sat 
 in the chair which her father had vacated. " If I 
 were a boy I should have studied medicine. I 
 wanted to be a trained nurse, but Dad wouldn't let 
 me. He said I'd hate having to do the hard work, 
 and perhaps I should. I like to wear pretty clothes, 
 and a nurse never has a chance." 
 
 " Perhaps you'll marry." 
 
 " Oh, no. I should hate to be like mother." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " She just lives for Dad. Now I couldn't do that. 
 I am not going to marry. I don't like men. They 
 ask too much. I like books and cats and being by 
 myself. I am never lonesome. Sometimes I talk 
 to Pan over there, and pretend he is playing to me 
 on his pipes, and then I write poetry. Real poetry. 
 I'll read it to you some time. There's one called 
 ' The Rose Garden.' I wrote it about a woman who 
 was a patient of father's. When she knew she 
 was going to die she wrote him a little note and 
 asked him to see that her body was cremated, and 
 that the ashes were strewn over the roses in his 
 garden. He didn't seem to see anything in it but 
 
 243
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 just a sick woman's fancy. But I knew that she 
 was in love with him. And my poem tells that 
 her blessed dust gathered itself into a gentle wraith 
 which lives and breathes near him." 
 
 " And you aren't afraid to feel that her gentle 
 wraith is here in the garden ? " 
 
 " Why should I be ? I don't believe in ghosts, 
 I don't believe in fairies, either, or Santa Claus. 
 But I like to read about them and write about them, 
 and and wish that it might be so." 
 
 There was something almost wistful in her voice. 
 Richard, aware suddenly of what a child she was, 
 bent forward. 
 
 " I think I half believe in fairies, and Christmas 
 wouldn't be anything without Santa Claus, and as 
 for the soul of your gentle lady, I have a feeling 
 that it is finding Heaven in the rose garden." 
 
 She was stroking the silver kitten which had 
 curled up in her lap. " I wish I weren't such a 
 heathen," she said, suddenly. " I know what you 
 mean. But it is only the poetic sense in me that 
 makes me know. I can't believe anything. Not 
 about souls or prayers. Do you ever pray ? " 
 
 " Every night. On my knees." 
 
 " On your knees ? Oh, is it as bad as that ? " 
 
 Richard, writing to his mother, said of Marie- 
 Louise, " Her mind isn't in a healthy state. It 
 hasn't anything to feed on. Her father is too busy 
 
 244
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 and her mother too ill to realize that she needs com- 
 panionship of a certain kind. I wish she might have 
 been a pupil at the Crossroads school, with Anne 
 Warfield for her teacher. But no hope of that" 
 
 He wrote, too, of his rushing days, and Nancy, 
 answering, hid from him the utter hopelessness of 
 her outlook. Her life began and ended with his 
 letters and the week-ends which he was able to give 
 her. But some of his week-ends had to be spent 
 with Eve ; a man cannot completely ignore the fact 
 that he has a fiancee, and Richard would have been 
 less than human if he had not responded to the 
 appeal of youth and beauty. So he motored with 
 Eve and danced with Eve, and dtd all of the de- 
 lightful summer things which are possible in the 
 big city near the sea. Aunt Maude went to the 
 North Shore, but Eve stayed with Winifred, and 
 wove about Richard her spells of flattery and of 
 frivolity. 
 
 "I want to be near you, Dicky boy. If I'm not 
 you'll work too hard." 
 
 " It is work that I like." 
 
 " I believe that you like it better than you do me, 
 Dicky." 
 
 " Don't be silly, Eve." 
 
 " You are always saying that. Do you like your 
 work better than you do me, Dicky ? " 
 
 " Of course not." But he had no pretty things to 
 say. 
 
 245
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 The life that he lived with her, however, and with 
 Pip and Winifred and Tony was a heady wine 
 which swept away regrets. He had no time to 
 think. He worked by day and played by night, and 
 often after their play there was work again. Now 
 and ;then, as the Sunday night when he had first 
 met Marie-Louise, he motored with Austin out to 
 Westchester. Mrs. Austin spent her summers there. 
 Long journeys tired her, and she would not leave 
 her husband. Marie- Louise stayed at " Rose Acres " 
 because she hated big hotels, and found cottage 
 colonies stupid. The great gardens swept down to 
 the river the wide, blue river with the high bluffs 
 on the sunset side. 
 
 The river at Bower's was not blue ; it showed in 
 the spring the red of the clay which was washed 
 into it, and now and then a clear green when the 
 rains held off, but it was rarely blue except on cer- 
 tain sapphire days in the fall, when a northwest wind 
 swept all clouds from the sky. 
 
 And this was not a singing river. It was too 
 near the sea, and too full of boats, and there was no 
 reason why it should say, " Come and see come and 
 see the world" when the world was at its feet ! 
 
 And so the great Hudson had no song for Rich- 
 ard. Yet now and then, as he walked down to it 
 in the warm darkness, his ears seemed to catch a 
 faint echo of the harmonies which had rilled his soul 
 on the day that Anne Warfield had dried her hair 
 
 246
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 on the bank of the old river at Bower's, and had 
 walked with him in the wood. 
 
 Except at such moments, however, it must be con- 
 fessed that he thought little of Anne Warfield. It 
 hurt to think of her. And he was too much of a 
 surgeon to want to turn the knife in the wound. 
 
 Marie- Louise, developing a keen interest in his 
 affairs as they grew better acquainted, questioned 
 him about Evelyn. 
 
 " Dad says you are going to marry her." 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Is she pretty ? " 
 
 41 Rather more than that." 
 
 14 Why don't you bring her out ? " 
 
 44 Nobody asked me, sir, she said." 
 
 She flashed a smile at him. 
 
 44 1 like your nursery-rhyme way of talking. You 
 are the humanest thing that we have ever had in 
 this house. Mother is a harp of a thousand strings, 
 and Dad is a dynamo. But you are flesh and 
 blood." 
 
 44 Thank you." 
 
 44 1 wish you'd ask your Evelyn out here, and her 
 friends. For tea and tennis some Saturday after- 
 noon. I want to see you together." 
 
 But after she had seen them together, she said, 
 shrewdly, 44 You are not in love with her." 
 
 44 I am going to marry her, child. Isn't that proof 
 enough?" 
 
 247
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " It isn't any proof at all. The big man is the one 
 who really cares." 
 
 " The big man ? Pip ? " 
 
 "Is that what you call him? He looks at her like 
 a dog waiting for a bone. And he brightens when 
 she speaks to him. And her eyes are always on you 
 and yours are never on her." 
 
 " Marie-Louise, you are an uncanny creature. 
 Like your little silver cat. She watches mice and 
 you watch me. I have a feeling that you are going 
 to pounce on me." 
 
 " Some day I shall pounce," she poked her finger 
 at him, " and shake you as my little cat shakes a 
 mouse, and you'll wake up." 
 
 "Am I asleep, Marie-Louise?" 
 
 " Yes. You haven't heard Pan pipe." She was 
 leaning on the sun-dial and looking up at the grinning 
 god. " Men who live in cities have no ears to hear." 
 
 " Are you a thousand years old, Marie- Louise ? " 
 
 " I am as old as the centuries," she told him 
 gravely. " I played with Pan when the world was 
 young." 
 
 They smiled at each other, and then he said, " My 
 mother wants me to live in the country. Do you 
 think if I were there I should hear Pan pipe ? " 
 
 " Not if you were there because your mother wished 
 it. It is only when you love it yourself that the river 
 calls and you hear the fluting of the wind in the 
 rushes." 
 
 248
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 It was an August Saturday, hot and humid. 
 Marie-Louise was in thin white, but it was a white 
 with a difference from the demure summer frocks of 
 a former generation. The modern note was in the 
 white fur which came high up about Marie-Louise's 
 throat. Yet she did not look warm. Her skin was 
 as pale as the pearls in her ears. Her red hair 
 flamed, but without warmth ; it rippled back from 
 her forehead to a cool and classic coil. 
 
 " If you marry your Eve," she told Richard, " and 
 stay with father, you'll grow rich and fat, and forget 
 the state of your soul." 
 
 " I thought you didn't believe in souls." 
 
 She flushed faintly. " I believe in yours. But 
 your Eve doesn't. She likes you because you don't 
 care, and everybody else does. And that isn't love." 
 
 "What is love?" 
 
 She pondered. " I don't know. I've never felt 
 it. And I don't want to feel it. If I loved too much 
 I should die and if I didn't love enough I should 
 be ashamed." 
 
 " You are a queer child, Marie-Louise." 
 
 " I am not a child. Dad thinks I am, and mother. 
 But they don't know." 
 
 There were day lilies growing about the sun-dial. 
 
 -She gathered a handful of white blooms and laid 
 
 them at the feet of the piping Pan. " I shall write a 
 
 poem about it," she said, " of a girl who loved a 
 
 marble god, and who found it enough. Every day 
 
 249
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 she laid a flower at his feet. And a human came to 
 woo her, and she told him, ' If I loved you, you 
 would ask more of me than my marble lover. He 
 asks only that I lay flowers at his feet.' ' 
 
 He could never be sure whether she was in jest or 
 earnest. And now she narrowed her eyes in a quiz- 
 zical smile and was gone. 
 
 He spoke of Marie-Louise to Eve. " She hasn't 
 enough to do. She ought to be busy with her fancy 
 work and her household matters." 
 
 " No woman is busy with household matters in 
 this age, Dicky. Nor with fancy work. Is that 
 what you expect of a wife ? " 
 
 He didn't know what he expected, and he told her 
 so. But he knew he was expecting more than she 
 was prepared to give. Eve had an off-with-the-old- 
 and-on-with-the-new theory of living which left him 
 breathless. She expressed it one night when she 
 said that she shouldn't have " obey " in her marriage 
 service. " I never expect to mind you, Dicky, so 
 what's the use ? " 
 
 There was no use, of course. Yet he had a feeling 
 that he was being robbed of something sweet and 
 sacred. The quaint old service asked things of men as 
 well as of women. Good and loving and fine things. 
 He was old-fashioned enough to want to promise all 
 that it asked, and to have his wife promise. 
 
 Eve laughed, too, at Richard's grace before meat. 
 " You mustn't embarrass me at formal dinners, 
 
 250
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 Dicky. Somehow it won't seem quite in keeping 
 with the cocktails, will it ? " 
 
 Thus the spirit of Eve, contending with all that 
 made him the son of his mother, meeting his 
 spiritual revolts with material arguments, banking 
 the fires of his flaming aspirations ! 
 
 Yet he rarely let himself dwell upon this aspect 
 of it. He had set his feet in a certain path, and he 
 was prepared to follow it. 
 
 On this path, at every turning, he met Philip. 
 The big man had not been driven from the field by 
 the fact of Eve's engagement. He still asked her to 
 go with him, he still planned pleasures for her. His 
 money made things easy, and while he included 
 Richard in most of his plans, he looked upon him as 
 a necessary evil. Eve refused to go without her 
 young doctor. 
 
 Now and then, however, he had her alone. 
 " Dicky's called to an appendicitis case," she in- 
 formed him ruefully, one night over the telephone, 
 "and I am dead lonesome. Come and cheer me 
 up." 
 
 He went to her, and during the evening proposed 
 a week-end yachting trip which should take them to 
 the North Shore and Aunt Maude. 
 
 " Is Dicky invited ? " 
 
 41 Of course. But I'm not sure that I want him." 
 
 " He wouldn't come if he knew that you felt like 
 that." 
 
 251
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " It isn't anything personal. And you know my 
 manner is perfect when I'm with him." 
 
 "Yes. Poor Dicky. Pip, we are a pair of de- 
 ceivers. I sometimes think I ought to tell him." 
 
 " There's nothing to tell." 
 
 " Nothing tangible, but he's so straightforward. 
 And he'd hate the idea that I'm letting you make 
 love to me." 
 
 " I don't make love. I have never touched the 
 tip of your finger." 
 
 " Pip ! Of course not. But your eyes make love, 
 and your manner and deep down in my heart I am 
 afraid." 
 
 "Afraid of what?" 
 
 "That Fate isn't going to give me what I want. 
 I don't want you, Pip. I want Dicky. And if you 
 loved me you'd let me alone." 
 
 " Tell me to go, and I won't come back." 
 
 " Not ever ? " 
 
 " Never." 
 
 She weakened. " But I don't want you to go 
 away. You see, you are my good friend, Pip." 
 
 She should not have let him stay. She knew 
 that. She found it necessary to apologize to Rich- 
 ard. " You see, Pip cares an awful lot" 
 
 Richard had little sympathy. " He might as well 
 take his medicine and not hang around you, Eve." 
 
 " If you would hang around a little more perhaps 
 he wouldn't." 
 
 252
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 " I am very busy. You know that." 
 
 His voice was stern. " If I am a busy husband, 
 will you make that an excuse for having Pip at 
 your heels ? " 
 
 " Richard." 
 
 " I beg your pardon. I shouldn't have said that 
 But marriage to me means more than good times. 
 Life means more than good times. When I am here 
 in New York it seems to me sometimes that I am 
 drugged by work and pleasure. That there isn't a 
 moment in which to live in a leisurely thoughtful 
 sense." 
 
 " You should have stayed at Crossroads." 
 
 "I can't go back. I have burned my bridges. 
 Austin expects things of me, and I must live up to 
 his expectations. And, besides, I like it." 
 
 " Really, Dicky ? " 
 
 " Really. There's a stimulus about the rush of it 
 and the big things we are doing. Austin is a giant. 
 My association with him is the biggest thing that 
 has ever come into my life." 
 
 " Bigger than your love for me ? " 
 
 Thus she brought him back to it. Making always 
 demands upon him which he could not meet. He 
 found himself harassed by her continued harping on 
 the personal point of view, yet there were moments 
 when she swung him into step with her. And one 
 of the moments came when she spoke of the yachting 
 trip. It was very hot, and Richard loved the sea. 
 
 253
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Dicky, I'll keep Pip in the background if you'll 
 promise to come." 
 
 " How can you keep him in the background when 
 he is our host ? " 
 
 " He is going to invite Marie-Louise. And he'll 
 
 have to be nice to her. And you and I ! 
 
 Dicky, we'll feel the slap of the breeze in our faces, 
 and forget that there's a big city back of us with 
 sick people in it, and slums and hot nights. Dicky 
 I love you and I am going to be your wife. 
 Won't you come because I want you Dicky ? " 
 
 There were tears on her cheeks as she made her 
 plea, and he was always moved by her tears. It 
 was his protective sense that had first tied him to 
 her ; it was still through his chivalry that she made 
 her most potent appeal. 
 
 Marie-Louise was glad to go. " It will be like 
 watching a play." 
 
 She and Richard were waiting for Pip's " Mer- 
 maid " to make a landing at the pier at Rose Acres. 
 A man-servant with their bags stood near, and 
 Marie-Louise's maid was coated and hatted to ac- 
 company her mistress. " It will be like watching a 
 play," Marie- Louise repeated. "The eternal trio. 
 Two men and a girl." 
 
 She waved to the quartette on the forward deck. 
 "Your big man looks fine in his yachting things. 
 And your Eve is nice in white." 
 
 Marie-Louise was not in white. In spite of the 
 
 254
 
 PAN PIPES 
 
 heat she was wrapped to the ears in a great coat of 
 pale buff. On her head was a Chinese hat of yellow 
 straw, with a peacock's feather. Yet in spite of the 
 blueness and yellowness, and the redness of her 
 head, she preserved that air of amazing coolness, 
 as if her blood were mixed with snow and ran 
 slowly. 
 
 Arriving on deck, she gave Pip her hand. " I am 
 glad it is clear. I hate storms. I am going to ask 
 Dr. Brooks to pray that it won't be rough. He is a 
 good man, and the gods should listen." 
 
 255
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 In Which Fear Walks in a Storm. 
 
 THE " Mermaid," having swept like a bird out 
 of the harbor, stopped at Coney Island. Marie- 
 Louise wanted her fortune told. Eve wanted pea- 
 nuts and pop-corn. " It will make me seem a little 
 girl again." 
 
 Marie-Louise, cool in her buff coat, shrugged her 
 shoulders. " I was never allowed to be that kind of 
 a little girl," she said, " but I think I'd like to try it 
 for a day." 
 
 Eve and Marie-Louise got on very well together. 
 They spoke the same language. And if Marie- 
 Louise was more artificial in some ways, she was 
 more open than Eve. 
 
 " You'd better tell Dr. Brooks," she told the older 
 girl, as the two of them walked ahead of Richard 
 and Pip on the pier. Tony and Winifred had elected 
 to stay on board. 
 
 "Tell him what?" 
 
 " That you are keeping the big man in reserve. 
 
 Eve flushed. " Marie-Louise, you're horrid." 
 
 " I am honest," was the calm response. 
 256
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 Pip bought them unlimited peanuts and pop-corn, 
 and Marie-Louise piloted them to the tent of a fat 
 Armenian who told fortunes. 
 
 In spite of his fatness, however, he was immacu- 
 late in European clothing ; he charged exorbitantly 
 and achieved extraordinary results. 
 
 " He said the last time that I should marry a poet," 
 Marie-Louise informed them, " which isn't true. I 
 am not going to be married at all. But it amuses 
 me to hear him." 
 
 The black eyes of the fat Armenian twinkled. 
 " There will be a time when you will not be amused. 
 You will be married." 
 
 He pulled out a chair for her. " Will your friends 
 stay while I tell you the rest ? " 
 
 " No, they are children ; they want to buy peanuts 
 and pop-corn they want to play." 
 
 The others laughed. But the fat Armenian did 
 not laugh. " Your soul is old 1 " 
 
 " You see," she asked the others, " what I mean ? 
 He says things like that to me. He told me once 
 that in a former incarnation I had walked beside the 
 Nile and had loved a king." 
 
 " A king-poet," the man corrected. 
 
 " Will you tell mine ? " Eve asked suddenly. 
 
 " Certainly, madam." 
 
 " I am mademoiselle. You go first, Marie-Louise." 
 
 But Marie-Louise insisted on yielding to her 
 " We will come back for you." 
 
 257
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Coming back, they found Eve in an irritable tem- 
 per. " He told me nothing." 
 
 " I told you what you did not want to hear. But 
 I told you the truth." 
 
 " I don't believe in such things." Eve was lofty. 
 Her cold eyes challenged the Oriental. " I don't 
 believe you know anything about it." 
 
 "If Mademoiselle will write it down " He 
 
 was fat and puffy, but he had a sort of large dignity 
 which ignored her rudeness. " If Mademoiselle will 
 write it down, she will not say next year ' I do 
 not believe.' " 
 
 She shivered. "I wish I hadn't come. Dicky 
 boy, let's go and play. Pip and Marie-Louise can 
 stay if they like it. I don't." 
 
 When Marie-Louise had had her imagination once 
 more fed on poets, kings, and previous incarnations, 
 she and Pip went forth to seek the others. 
 
 "I wonder what he told Eve?" Pip speculated. 
 
 Marie-Louise spoke with shrewdness. " He prob- 
 ably told her that she would marry you only he 
 wouldn't put it that way. He would say that in 
 reaching for a star she would stumble on a dia- 
 mond." 
 
 " And is Brooks the star ? " 
 
 She nodded, grinning. " And you are the dia- 
 mond. It is what she wants diamonds." 
 
 "She wants more than that" tenderness crept 
 into his voice " she wants love and I can give it.' 
 
 258
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 " She wants Dr. Brooks. 'Most any woman 
 would," said Marie- Louise cruelly. " We all know 
 he is different You know it, and I know it, and 
 Eve knows it. He is bigger in some ways, and 
 better 1 " 
 
 They found Eve and Richard in a pavilion dancing 
 in strange company, to raucous music. Later the 
 four of them rode on a merry-go-round, with Marie- 
 Louise on a dolphin and Eve on a swan, with the 
 two men mounted on twin dragons. They ate 
 chowder and broiled lobster in a restaurant high in 
 a fantastic tower. They swept up painted Alpine 
 slopes in reckless cars, they drifted through dark 
 tunnels in gorgeous gondolas. Eve took her pleas- 
 ures with a sort of feverish enthusiasm, Marie-Louise 
 with the air of a skeptic trying out a new thing. 
 
 " Mother would faint and fade away if she knew I 
 was here," Marie- Louise told Richard as she sat next 
 to him in a movie show, " and so would Dad. He 
 would object to the germs and she would object to 
 the crowd. Mother is like a flower in a sunlighted 
 garden. She can't imagine that a lily could grow 
 with its feet in the mud. But they do. And Dad 
 knows it. But he likes to have mother stay in the 
 sunlighted garden. He would never have fallen in 
 love with her if her roots had been in the mud." 
 
 She was murmuring this into Richard's ear. Eve 
 was on the other side of him, with Pip beyond. 
 
 " I've never had a day like this," Marie- Louise 
 259
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 further confided, " and I am not sure that I like it. 
 It seems so far away from Pan and the trees 
 and the river." 
 
 Her voice dropped into silence, and Richard sat 
 there beside her like a stone, seeing nothing of the 
 pictures thrown on the screen. He saw a road which 
 led between spired cedars, he saw an old house with 
 a wide porch. He saw a golden-lighted table, and 
 his mother's face across the candles. He saw a girl 
 in a brown coat scattering food for the birds with a 
 kind little hand he heard the sound of a bell ! 
 
 When they reached the yacht, Winifred was 
 dressed for dinner, and Eve and Marie-Louise scur- 
 ried below to change. They dined on the upper 
 deck by moonlight, and sat late enjoying the still 
 warmth of the night. There was no wind and they 
 seemed to sail through silver waters. 
 
 Marie-Louise sang for them. Strange little songs 
 for which she had composed both words and music. 
 They had haunting cadences, and Pip told her " For 
 Heaven's sake, kiddie, cheer up. You are making 
 us cry." 
 
 She laughed, and gave them a group of old 
 nursery rhymes. Most of them had to do with 
 things to eat. There was the Dame who baked her 
 pies " on Christmas day in the morning," and the 
 Queen who made the tarts, and Jenny Wren and her 
 currant wine. 
 
 "They are what I call appetizing," she said 
 260
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 quaintly. " When I was a tiny tot Dad kept me on 
 a diet. I was never allowed to eat pies or tarts or 
 puddings. So I used to feast vicariously on my 
 nursery rhymes." 
 
 They laughed, as she had meant they should, and 
 Pip said, " Give us another," so she chanted with in- 
 creasing dramatic effect the story of King Arthur. 
 
 " A bag pudding the king did make, 
 And stuffed it well with plums, 
 And in it put great hunks of fat, 
 As big as my two thumbs " 
 
 "Think of the effect of those hunks of fat," she 
 explained amid their roars of laughter, " on my dieted 
 mind." 
 
 " I hate to think of things to eat," Eve said. " And 
 I can't imagine myself cooking in a kitchen." 
 
 " Where else would you cook ? " Marie-Louise de- 
 manded practically. " I'd like it. I went once with 
 my nurse to her mother's house, and she was cook- 
 ing ham and frying eggs and we sat down to a table 
 with a red cloth and had the ham and eggs with 
 great slices of bread and strong tea. My nurse let 
 me eat all I wanted, because her mother said it 
 wouldn't hurt me, and it didn't. But my mother 
 never knew. And always after that I liked to think 
 of Lucy's mother and that warm nice kitchen, and 
 the plump, pleasant woman and the ham and eggs 
 and tea." 
 
 261
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 She was very serious, but they roared again. She 
 was so far away from anything that was homely and 
 housewifely, with her red hair peaked up to a high 
 knot, her thick white coat with its black animal skin 
 enveloping her shoulders, the gleam of silver slip- 
 pers. 
 
 " Dicky," Eve said, " I hope you are not expect- 
 ing me to cook in Arcadia." 
 
 " I don't expect anything." 
 
 " Every man expects something," Winifred inter- 
 posed ; " subconsciously he wants a hearth-woman. 
 That's the primitive." 
 
 " I don't want a hearth-woman," Pip announced. 
 
 Dutton Ames chuckled. "You're a stone-age 
 man, Meade. You'd like to woo with a club, and 
 carry the day's kill to the woman in your tent." 
 
 A quick fire lighted Pip's eyes. " Jove, it wouldn't 
 be bad, would it? What do you think, Eve?" 
 
 " I like your yacht better, and your chef and your 
 alligator pears, and caviar." 
 
 An hour later Eve and Richard were alone on 
 deck. The others had gone down. The lovers had 
 preferred the moonlight. 
 
 " Eve, old lady," Richard said, " you know that 
 even with Austin's help I'm not going to be a Croe- 
 sus. There won't be yachts and chefs and alliga- 
 tor pears." 
 
 "Jealous, Dicky?" 
 
 " No. But you've always had these things, Eve." 
 262
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 " I shall still have them. Aunt Maude won't let 
 us suffer. She's a good old soul." 
 
 " Do you think I shall care to partake of Aunt 
 Maude's bounty ? " 
 
 " Perhaps not. But I am not so stiff-necked. Oh, 
 Ducky Dick, do you think that I am going to let 
 you keep on being poor and priggish and steady- 
 minded ? " 
 
 " Am I that, Eve ? " 
 
 " You know you are." 
 
 Her laughing eyes challenged him. He would 
 have been less than a man if he had not responded 
 to the appeal of her youth and beauty. " Dicky," 
 she said, " when we are married I am going to give 
 you the time of your young life. All work and no 
 play will make you a dull boy, Dicky." 
 
 In the night the clouds came up over the moon, 
 and when the late and lazy party appeared on deck 
 for luncheon, Marie-Louise complained. " I hate it 
 this way. There's going to be a storm." 
 
 There was a storm before night. It blew up 
 tearingly from the south and there was menace in it 
 and madness. 
 
 Winifred and Eve were good sailors. But Marie- 
 Louise went to pieces. She was frantic with fear, 
 and as the night wore on, Richard found himself 
 much concerned for her. 
 
 She insisted on staying on deck. " I feel like a 
 rat in a trap when I am inside. I want to face it." 
 
 263
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 The wind was roaring about them. The sea was 
 black and the sky was black, a thick velvety black 
 that turned to copper when the lightning came. 
 
 " Aren't you afraid ? " Marie-Louise demanded ; 
 "aren't you?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Why shouldn't you be ? Why shouldn't any- 
 body be?" 
 
 " My nerves are strong, Marie-Louise." 
 
 " It isn't nerves. It's faith. You believe that the 
 boat won't go down, and you believe that if it did 
 go down your soul wouldn't die." 
 
 Her white face was close to him. " I wish I could 
 believe like that," she said in a high, sharp voice. 
 Then she screamed as the little ship seemed caught 
 up into the air and flung down again. 
 
 " Hush," Richard told her ; " hush, Marie-Louise." 
 
 She was shaking and shivering. " I hate it," she 
 sobbed. 
 
 Pip, like a yellow specter in oilskins, came up to 
 them. " Eve wants you, Brooks," he shouted above 
 the clamor of wind and wave. 
 
 "Shall we go in, Marie-Louise?" 
 
 " No, no." She cowered against his arm. 
 
 Over her head Richard said to Pip, " I shall come 
 as soon as I can." 
 
 So Pip went down, and the two were left alone in 
 the tumult and blackness of the night. 
 
 As Marie-Louise lay for a moment quiet against 
 264
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 his arm, Richard bent down to her. " Are you still 
 afraid?" 
 
 " Yes, oh, yes. I keep thinking if I should die. 
 And I am afraid to die." 
 
 "You are not going to die. And if you were 
 there would be nothing to fear. Death is just 
 falling asleep. Rarely any terror. We doctors 
 know, who see people die. I know it, and your 
 father knows it." 
 
 By the light of a blinding flash he saw her white 
 face with its wet red hair. 
 
 " Dad doesn't know it as you -know," she said, 
 chokingly. " He couldn't say it as you say it." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " He's like I am. Dad's afraid." 
 
 The storm swept on, leaving the waves rough 
 behind it, and Richard at last put Marie-Louise to 
 bed with a sleeping powder. Then he went to hunt 
 up Eve. He was very tired and it was very late. 
 The night had passed, and the dawn would soon 
 be coming up over the horizon. He found Pip in 
 the smoking room. Eve had gone to bed. Every- 
 body had gone to bed. It had been a terrible storm. 
 
 Richard agreed that it had been terrible. He was 
 glad that Eve could sleep. He couldn't understand 
 why Austin had allowed Marie-Louise to take such 
 a trip. Her fear of storms was evidently quite un- 
 controllable. And she was at all times hysterical 
 and high-strung. 
 
 265
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Pip was not interested in Marie-Louise. " Eve 
 lost her nerve at the last." 
 
 Richard was solicitous. " I'm sorry. I wanted 
 to come down, but I couldn't leave Marie-Louise. 
 Eve's normal, and she'll be all right as soon as the 
 storm stops. But Marie-Louise may suffer for days. 
 The sooner she gets on shore the better." 
 
 He went on deck, and looked out upon a gray 
 wind-swept world. 
 
 Then the sun came up, and there was a great light 
 upon the waters. 
 
 All the next day Marie-Louise lay in a long chair. 
 " Dad told me not to come," she confessed to Rich- 
 ard. "I've been this way before. But I wouldn't 
 listen." 
 
 " If I had been your father," Richard said, " you 
 would have listened, and you would have stayed at 
 home." 
 
 She grinned. " You can't be sure. Nobody can 
 be sure. I don't like to take orders." 
 
 " Until you learn to take orders you aren't going 
 to amount to much, Marie-Louise." 
 
 " I amount to a great deal. And your ideas 
 are old-fashioned ; that's what your Eve says, 
 Dr. Dicky." 
 
 She looked at him through her long eyelashes. 
 " What's the matter with your Eve ? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 "She is punishing you, but you don't know it. 
 266
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 She is down-stairs playing bridge with Pip and Tony 
 and Win, and leaving you alone to meditate on your 
 sins. And you aren't meditating. You are talking 
 to me. I am going to write a poem about a Laggard 
 Lover. I'll make you a shepherd boy who sits on 
 the hills and watches his sheep. And when the girl 
 who loves him calls to him, he refuses to go he 
 still watches his sheep." 
 
 He looked puzzled. " I don't know in the least 
 what you are talking about." 
 
 " You are the shepherd. Your work is the sheep 
 Eve is the girl. Your work will always be more 
 to you than the woman. Dad's work isn't. He 
 never forgets mother for a minute." 
 
 "And you think that I'll forget Eve ?" 
 
 " Yes. And she'll hate that." 
 
 There was a spark in his eye. 
 
 " I think that we won't discuss Eve, Marie-Louise." 
 
 " Then I'll discuss her in a poem. Lend me a 
 pencil, please." 
 
 He gave her the pencil and a prescription pad, 
 and she set to work. She read snatches to him as 
 she progressed. It was remarkably clever, with a 
 constantly recurring refrain. 
 
 " Let me watch my sheep" said the lover, " my 
 sheep on the hills" 
 
 The verses went on to relate that the girl, finding 
 her shepherd dilatory, turned her attention to an- 
 other swain, and at last she flouts the shepherd. 
 
 267
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Go watch your sheep, laggard lover, your sheep on 
 the hills." 
 
 She laid the verses aside as Tony and Win joined 
 them. 
 
 " Three rubbers, and Pip and Eve are ahead." 
 
 " Isn't Eve coming ? " 
 
 " She said she was coming up soon." 
 
 But she did not come, and Pip did not come. 
 Marie-Louise, with a great rug spread over her, 
 slept in her chair. Dutton Ames read aloud to his 
 wife. Richard rose and went to look for Eve. 
 
 There was a little room which Pip called " The 
 Skipper's own." It was furnished in a man's way 
 as a den, with green leather and carved oak and 
 plenty of books. Its windows gave a forward view 
 of sky and water. 
 
 It was here that the four of them had been play- 
 ing auction. Eve was now shuffling the cards for 
 Solitaire. 
 
 Pip, watching her, caught suddenly at her left 
 hand. " Why didn't Brooks give you a better 
 ring?" 
 
 " I like my ring. Let go of my hand, Pip." 
 
 " I won't. What's the matter with the man that 
 he should dare dream of tying you down to what he 
 can give you ? It seems to me that he lacks pride." 
 
 " He doesn't lack anything. Let go of my hand, 
 Pip." 
 
 But he still held it. " How he could have the 
 268
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 courage to ask until he had made a name for 
 himself." 
 
 She blazed. " He didn't ask. I asked him, Pip. 
 I cared enough for that." 
 
 He dropped her hand as if it had stung him. 
 " You cared as much as that ? " 
 
 She faced him bravely. "As much as that it 
 pleased me to say what it was my right to say." 
 
 " Oh ! It was the queen, then, and the- beggar 
 man. Eve, come back." 
 
 She was at the door, but she turned. " I'll come 
 back if you will beg my pardon. Richard is not a 
 beggar, and I am not the queen. How hateful you 
 are, Pip." 
 
 " I won't beg your pardon. And let's have this 
 out right now, Eve." 
 
 " Have what out ? " 
 
 " Sit down, and I'll tell you." 
 
 Once more they were seated with the table between 
 them. Pip's back was to the window, but Eve faced 
 the broad expanse of sky and sea, A faint pink flush 
 was on the waters : a silver star hung at the edge of 
 a crescent moon. There was no sound but the purr 
 of machinery and the mewing of gulls in the dis- 
 tance. 
 
 Eve was in pink a straight linen frock with a low 
 white collar. It gave her an air of simplicity quite 
 unlike her usual elegance. Pip feasted his eyes on 
 her. 
 
 269
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 41 You've got to face it. Brooks doesn't care." 
 
 " He does care." 
 
 " He didn't care enough to come down last night 
 when you were afraid and wanted him. And you 
 turned to me, just for one little minute, Eve. Do 
 you think I shall ever forget the thrill of the thought 
 that you turned to me ? " 
 
 She was staring straight out at the little moon. 
 " Marie-Louise was his patient he had to stay with 
 her." 
 
 " You are saying that to me, but in your heart 
 you know you are resenting the fact that he didn't 
 come when you called. Aren't you, Eve? Aren't 
 you resenting it ? " 
 
 She told him the truth. " Yes. But I know that 
 when I am his wife, I shall have to let him think 
 about his patients. I ought to be big enough for 
 that." 
 
 "You are big enough for anything. But you are 
 not always going to be content with crumbs from the 
 king's table. And that's what you are getting from 
 Brooks. And I have a feast ready. Eve, can't you 
 see that I would give, give, give, and he will take, 
 take, take? Eve, can't you see?" 
 
 She did see, and for the moment she was swayed 
 by the force of his passionate eloquence. 
 
 She leaned toward him a little. " Pip, dear, I 
 wish sometimes that it might have been you." 
 
 It needed only this. He swept the card table 
 270
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 aside with his strong arms. He was on his knees 
 begging for love, for life. Her hair swept his cheek. 
 
 The little moon shone clear in the quiet sky. 
 There was not much light, but there was enough for 
 a man standing in the door to see two dark figures 
 outlined against the silver space beyond. 
 
 And Richard was standing in the door ! 
 
 Eve saw him first. " Go away, Pip," she said, 
 and stood up. " I I think I can make him under- 
 stand." 
 
 When they were alone she said to Richard in a 
 strained voice, " It was my fault, Dicky." 
 
 " Do you mean that you let him, Eve ? " 
 
 " No. But I let him talk about his love for me 
 and and he cares very much." 
 
 " He knows that you are engaged to me." 
 
 " Yes. But last night when you stayed on deck 
 when I needed you and asked for you, Pip knew 
 that you wouldn't come and he was sorry for me." 
 
 " And he was sorry again this afternoon ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " And he showed it by making love to you ? " 
 
 " He thinks I won't be happy with you. He 
 thinks that you don't care. He thinks " 
 
 " I don't care what Meade thinks. I want to know 
 what you think, Eve." 
 
 Their voices had come out of the darkness. She 
 pulled the little chain of a wall bracket, and the room 
 was enveloped in a warm wave of light. " I don't 
 
 271
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 know what I think. But I hated to have you with 
 Marie- Louise." 
 
 "She was very ill. You knew that. Eve, if we 
 can't trust each other, what possible happiness can 
 there be ahead ? " 
 
 She had no answer ready. 
 
 " Of course I can't stay on Meade's boat after 
 this," he went on ; " I'll get them to run in here 
 somewhere and drop me." 
 
 She sank back in the chair from which she had 
 risen when Philip left them. His troubled eyes resting 
 upon her saw a blur of pink and gold out of which 
 emerged her white face. 
 
 " But I want you to stay." 
 
 " You shouldn't want me to stay, Eve. I can't 
 accept his hospitality, after this, and call myself a 
 man." 
 
 " Oh, Dicky I detest heroics." 
 
 She was startled by the tone in which he said, " If 
 that is the way you feel about it, we might as well 
 end it here." 
 
 " Dicky " 
 
 " I mean it, Eve. The whole thing is based 
 on the fact that I stayed with a patient when you 
 wanted me. Well, I shall always be staying with 
 patients after we are married, and if you are unable 
 to see why I must do the thing I did last night, then 
 you will never be able to see it. And a doctor's wife 
 must see it" 
 
 272
 
 FEAR WALKS IN A STORM 
 
 She came up to him, and in the darkness laid her 
 cheek against his arm. " Dicky, don't joke about a 
 thing like that. I can't stand it. And I'm sorry 
 about Pip. Dicky, I shall die if you don't forgive 
 me." 
 
 He forgave her. He even made himself believe 
 that Pip might be forgiven. He exerted himself to 
 seem at his ease at dinner. He said nothing more 
 about leaving at the next landing. 
 
 But late that night he sat alone on deck in the 
 darkness. He was a plain man, and he saw things 
 straight. And this thing was crooked. The hot 
 honor of his youth revolted against the situation in 
 which he saw himself. He felt hurt and ashamed. 
 It was as if the dreams of his boyhood had been 
 dragged in the dust. 
 
 273
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 In Which We Hear Once More of a Sandalwood Fan, 
 
 IN the winter which followed Richard often won- 
 dered if he were the same man who had ridden 
 his old Ben up over the hills, and had said his 
 solemn grace at his own candle-lighted table. 
 
 It had been decided that he and Eve should 
 wait until another year for their wedding. Richard 
 wanted to get a good start. Eve was impatient, but 
 acquiesced. 
 
 It was not Richard's engagement, however, which 
 gave to his life the effect of strangeness. It was, 
 rather, his work, which swept him into a maelstrom 
 of new activities. Austin needed rest and he knew 
 it. Richard was young and strong. The older man, 
 using his assistant as a buffer between himself and 
 a demanding public, felt no compunction. His own 
 apprenticeship had been hard. 
 
 So Richard in Austin's imposing limousine was 
 whirled through fashionable neighborhoods and up 
 to exclusive doorways. He presided at operations 
 where the fees were a year's income for a poor man. 
 A certain percentage of these fees came to him. He 
 found that he need have no fears for his financial 
 future. 
 
 274
 
 A SANDALWOOD FAN 
 
 His letters from his mother were his only link 
 with the old life. She wrote that she was well. 
 That Anne Warfield was with her, and Cousin Sulie, 
 and that the three of them and Cousin David played 
 whist. That Anne was such a dear that she didn't 
 know what she would do without her. 
 
 Richard went as often as he could on Sundays to 
 Crossroads. But at such times he saw little of Anne. 
 She felt that no one should intrude on the reunions 
 of mother and son. So she visited at Beulah's or 
 Bower's and came back on Mondays. 
 
 Nancy persisted in her refusal to go back to New 
 York. " I know I am silly," she told her son, " but 
 I have a feeling that I shouldn't be able to breathe, 
 and should die of suffocation." 
 
 Richard spoke to Dr. Austin of his mother's state 
 of mind. " Queer thing, isn't it ? " 
 
 "A natural thing, I should say. Your father's 
 death was an awful blow. I often wonder how she 
 lived out the years while she waited for you to 
 finish school." 
 
 " But she did live them, so that I might be pre- 
 pared to practice at Crossroads. As I think of it, 
 it seems monstrous that I should disappoint her." 
 
 " Fledglings always leave the nest. Mothers have 
 that to expect. The selfishness of the young makes 
 for progress. It would have been equally monstrous 
 if you had stayed in that dull place wasting your 
 talents." 
 
 275
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 "Would it have been wasted, sir? There's no 
 one taking my place in the old country. And there 
 are many who could fill it here. There's a chance 
 at Crossroads for big work for the right man. Com- 
 munity water supply better housing, the health 
 conditions of the ignorant foreign folk who work 
 the small farms. A country doctor ought to have 
 the missionary spirit." 
 
 " There are plenty of little men for such places." 
 
 " It takes big men. I could make our old country- 
 side bloom like a rose if I could put into it half the 
 effort that I am putting into my work with you. 
 But it would be lean living and I have chosen the 
 flesh-pots." 
 
 " Don't despise yourself because you couldn't go 
 on being poor in a big way. You are going to be 
 rich in a big way, and that is better." 
 
 As the days went on, however, Richard won- 
 dered if it were really better to be rich in a big way. 
 Sometimes the very bigness and richness oppressed 
 him. He found himself burdened by the splendor 
 of the mansions at which he made his morning calls. 
 He hated the sleekness of the men in livery who 
 preceded him up the stairs, the trimness of the maids 
 waiting on the threshold of hushed boudoirs. Dis- 
 ease and death in these sumptuous palaces seemed 
 divorced from reality as if the palaces were stage 
 structures, and the people in them were actors who 
 would presently walk out into the wings. 
 
 276
 
 A SANDALWOOD FAN 
 
 It was therefore with some of the feelings which 
 had often assailed him when he had stepped from 
 a dim theater out into the open air that Richard 
 made his way one morning to a small apartment on 
 a down-town side street to call on a little girl who 
 had recently left the charity ward at Austin's hos- 
 pital. Richard had operated for appendicitis, and 
 had found himself much interested in the child. He 
 had dismissed the limousine farther up. It had 
 seemed out of place in the shabby street. 
 
 He stopped at the florist's for a pot of pink posies 
 and at another shop for fruit. Laden with parcels 
 he climbed the high stairs to the top floor of the 
 tenement. 
 
 The little girl and her grandmother lived together. 
 The grandmother had a small pension, and sewed 
 by the day for several old customers. They thus 
 managed to pay expenses, but poverty pinched. 
 Richard had from the first, however, been impressed 
 by their hopefulness. Neither the grandmother nor 
 the child seemed to look upon their lot as hard. The 
 grandmother made savory stews on a snug little 
 stove and baked her own sweet loaves. Now and 
 then she baked a cake. Things were spotlessly 
 clean, and there were sunshine and fresh air. To 
 have pitied those two would have been superfluous. 
 
 After he had walked briskly out into Fifth Avenue, 
 he was thinking of another grandmother on whom 
 he had called a few days before. She was a haughty 
 
 277
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 old dame, but she was browbeaten by her maid. Her 
 grandchildren were brought in now and then to kiss 
 her hand. They were glad to get away. They had 
 no real need of her. They had no hopes or fears to 
 confide. So in spite of her magnificence and her 
 millions, she was a lonely soul. 
 
 Snow had fallen the night before, and was now 
 melting in the streets, but the sky was very blue 
 above the tall buildings. Christmas was not far 
 away, and as Richard went up-town the crowd surged 
 with him, meeting the crowd that was coming down. 
 
 He had a fancy to lunch at a little place on Thirty- 
 third Street, where they served a soup with noodles 
 that was in itself a hearty meal. In the days when 
 money had been scarce the little German cafe had 
 furnished many a feast. Now and then he and his 
 mother had come together, and had talked of how, 
 when their ship came in, they would dine at the big 
 hotel around the corner. 
 
 And now that his ship was in, and he could afford 
 the big hotel, it had no charms. He hated the 
 women dawdling in its alleys, the men smoking in 
 its corridors, the whole idle crowd, lunching in acres 
 of table-crowded space. 
 
 So he set as his goal the clean little restaurant, 
 and swung along toward it with something of his old 
 boyish sense of elation. 
 
 And then a strange thing happened. For the first 
 time in months he found his heart marking time to 
 
 278
 
 A SANDALWOOD FAN 
 
 the tune of the song which old Ben's hoofs had beaten 
 out of the roads as they made their way up into the 
 hills 
 
 " I think she was the most beautiful lady, 
 That ever was in the West Country " 
 
 He was even humming it under his breath, unheard 
 amid the hum and stir of the crowded city street. 
 
 The shops on either side of him displayed in their 
 low windows a wealth of tempting things. Rugs 
 with a sheen like the bloom of a peach alabaster in 
 curved and carved bowls and vases, old prints in dull 
 gilt frames furniture following the lines of Floren- 
 tine elaborateness his eyes took in all the color and 
 glow, though he rarely stopped for a closer view. 
 
 In front of one broad window, however, he hesi- 
 tated. The opening of the door had spilled into the 
 frosty air of this alien city the scent of the Orient 
 the fragrance of incense of spicy perfumed woods. 
 
 In the window a jade god sat high on a teakwood 
 pedestal. A string of scarlet beads lighted a shad- 
 owy corner. On an ancient and priceless lacquered 
 cabinet were enthroned two other gods of gold and 
 ivory. A crystal ball reflected a length of blue 
 brocade. A clump of Chinese bulbs bloomed in an 
 old Ming bowl. 
 
 Richard went into the shop. Subconsciously, he 
 went with a purpose. But the purpose was not re- 
 vealed to him until he came to a case in which was 
 
 279
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 set forth a certain marvelous collection. He knew 
 then that the old song and the scents had formed an 
 association of ideas which had lured him away from 
 the streets and into the shop, that he might buy for 
 Anne Warfield a sandalwood fan. 
 
 He found what he wanted. A sweet and wonder- 
 ful bit of wood, carved like lace, with green and 
 purple tassels. 
 
 It was when he had it safe in his pocket, in a box 
 that was gay with yellow and green and gold, that 
 he was aware of voices in the back of the shop. 
 
 There were tables where tea was served to special 
 customers at the expense of the management. 
 Thus a vulgar bargain became as it were a hospi- 
 tality you bought teakwood and had tea ; carved 
 ivories, and were rewarded with little cakes. 
 
 In that dim space under a low hung lamp, Marie- 
 Louise talked with the fat Armenian. 
 
 He was the same Armenian who had told her for- 
 tune at Coney. He stood by Marie-Louise's side 
 while she drank her tea, and spoke to her of the poet- 
 king with whom she had walked on the banks of the 
 Nile. 
 
 Richard approaching asked, " How did you hap- 
 pen to come here, Marie-Louise ? " 
 
 " I often come. I like it. It is next to traveling 
 in far countries." She indicated the fat Armenian. 
 " He tells me about things that happened to me in 
 the ages when I lived before." 
 
 280
 
 A slender youth in white silk with a crimson sash 
 brought tea for Richard. But he refused it. " I am 
 on my way to lunch, Marie-Louise. Will you go 
 with me?" 
 
 She hesitated and glanced at the fat Armenian. 
 " I've some things to buy." 
 
 " I'll wait." 
 
 She flitted about the shop with the fat Armenian 
 in her train. He showed her treasures shut away 
 from the public eye, and she bought long lengths of 
 heavy silks, embroideries thick with gold, a moon- 
 stone bracelet linked with silver. 
 
 The fat Armenian, bending over her, seemed to 
 direct and suggest. Richard, watching, hated the 
 man's manner. 
 
 Outside in the sunshine, he spoke of it. " I 
 wouldn't go there alone." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I don't like to see you among those people on 
 such terms. They don't understand, and they're 
 different." 
 
 " I like them because they are different," ob- 
 stinately. 
 
 He shifted his ground. " Marie- Louise, will you 
 lunch with me at a cheap little place around the 
 corner ? " 
 
 " Why a cheap little place ? " 
 
 " Because I like the good soup, and the clean little 
 German woman, and the quiet and the memories." 
 
 281
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " What memories ? " 
 
 " I used to go there when I was poor." 
 
 She entered eagerly into the adventure, and 
 ordered her car to wait. Then away they fared 
 around jhe corner ! 
 
 Within the homely little restaurant, Marie-Louise's 
 elegance was more than ever apparent. Her long 
 coat of gray velvet with its silver fox winked opu- 
 lently from the back of her chair at the coarse table- 
 cloth and the paper napkins. 
 
 But the soup was good, and the German woman 
 smiled at them, and brought them a special dish of 
 hard almond cakes with their coffee. 
 
 " I love it," Marie-Louise said. " It is like Hans 
 Andersen and my fairy books. Will you bring me 
 here again, Dr. Richard ? " 
 
 " I am glad you like it," he told her. " I wanted 
 you to like it." 
 
 " I like it because I like you," she said with frank- 
 ness, "and you seem to belong in the fairy tale. 
 You are so big and strong and young. I don't feel 
 a thousand years old when I am with you. You are 
 such a change from everybody else, Dr. Dicky." 
 
 Richard spoke the next day to Austin of Marie- 
 Louise and the fat Armenian. " She shouldn't be 
 going to such shops alone. She has a romantic 
 streak in her, and they take advantage of it." 
 
 " She ought never to go alone," Austin agreed, 
 " and I have told her. But what am I going to do ? 
 
 282
 
 A SANDALWOOD FAN 
 
 I can rule a world of patients, Brooks, but I can't 
 rule my woman child," he laughed ruefully. " I've 
 tried having a maid accompany her, but she sends 
 her home." 
 
 " I wish she might have gone to the Crossroads 
 school, and have known the Crossroads teacher 
 Anne Warfield. You remember Cynthia Warfield, 
 sir ; this is her granddaughter." 
 
 Austin remembered Cynthia, and he wanted to 
 know more of Anne. Richard told him of Anne's 
 saneness and common sense. " I am so glad that 
 she can be with my mother, and that the children 
 have her in the school. She is so wise and good." 
 
 He thought more than once in the days that fol- 
 lowed of Anne's wisdom and goodness. He decided 
 to send the fan. He expected to go to Crossroads 
 for Christmas, but he was not at all sure that he 
 should see Anne. Something had been said about 
 her going for the holidays to her Uncle Rod. 
 
 Was it only a year since he had seen her on the 
 rocks above the river with a wreath in her hand, and 
 in the stable at Bower's, with the lantern shining 
 above her head ? 
 
 283
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 In Which Christmas Comes to Crossroads. 
 
 NANCY'S plans for Christmas were ambitious. 
 She talked it over with Sulie Tyson. "I'll 
 have Anne and her Uncle Rod. If she goes to him 
 they will eat their Christmas dinner alone. Her 
 cousins are to be out of town." 
 
 Cousin Sulie agreed. She was a frail little woman, 
 with gray hair drawn up from her forehead above a 
 high-bred face. She spoke with earnestness on even 
 the most trivial subjects. Now and then she had 
 flashes of humor, but they were rare. Her life had 
 been sad, and she had always been dependent. The 
 traditions of her family had made it impossible for 
 her to indulge in any money-making occupation. 
 Hence she had lived in other people's houses. Usu- 
 ally with one or the other of two brothers, in some- 
 what large households. 
 
 Her days, therefore, with Nancy were rapturous 
 ones. 
 
 "There's something in the freedom which two 
 women can have when they are alone," she said, 
 "that is glorious. We are ourselves. When men 
 are around we are always acting." 
 
 284
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 Nancy was not so subtle. "I am myself with 
 Richard." 
 
 "No, you're not, Nancy. You are always trying 
 to please him. You make him feel important. You 
 make him feel that he is the head of the house. 
 You know what I mean." 
 
 Nancy did know. But she didn't choose to ad- 
 mit it. 
 
 " Well, I like to please him." Then with a sud- 
 den burst of longing, " Sulie, I want him here all of 
 the time to please." 
 
 " Oh, my dear," Sulie caught Nancy's hands up 
 in her own, " oh, my dear. How mothers love their 
 sons. I am glad I haven't any. I used to long for 
 children. I don't any more. Nothing can hurt me 
 as Richard hurts you, Nancy." 
 
 Nancy refused to talk of it. " We will ask David 
 and Brinsley ; that will be four men and three 
 women, Sulie." 
 
 " Well, I can take care of David if you'll look after 
 Brinsley and Rodman Warfield. And that will leave 
 your Richard for Anne." 
 
 Nancy's candid glance met her cousin's. " That 
 is the way I had hoped it might be Richard and 
 Anne. At first I thought it might be and then 
 something happened. He went to New York and 
 that was the end." 
 
 " If you had been more of a match-maker," Sulie 
 said, " you might have managed. But you always 
 
 285
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 think that such things are on the knees of the gods. 
 Why didn't you bring them together ? " 
 
 " I tried," Nancy confessed. " But Eve I hate 
 to say it, Sulie. Eve was determined." 
 
 The two old-fashioned women, making mental 
 estimates of this modern feminine product, found 
 themselves indignant. " To think that any girl 
 could " 
 
 It was lunch time, and Anne came in. She had 
 Diogenes under her arm. " He will come across 
 the road to meet me. And I am afraid of the auto- 
 mobiles. When he brings the white duck and all of 
 the little Diogenes with him he obstructs traffic. 
 He stopped a touring car the other day, and the 
 men swore at him, and Diogenes swore back." 
 
 She laughed and set the old drake on his feet. 
 " May I have a slice of bread for him, Mother 
 Nancy?" 
 
 " Of course, my dear. Two, if you wish." 
 
 Diogenes, having been towed by his beloved mis- 
 tress out-of-doors, was appeased with the slice of 
 bread. He was a patriarch now, with a lovely mate 
 and a line of waddling offspring to claim his devo- 
 tion. But not an inch did he swerve from his loyalty 
 to Anne. She had brought him with her from 
 Bower's, and he lived in the barn with his family. 
 Twice a day, however, he made a pilgrimage to the 
 Crossroads school. It was these excursions which 
 Anne deprecated. 
 
 286
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 11 He comes in when I ring for recess and distracts 
 the children. He waddles straight up to my desk 
 and he is such an old dear." 
 
 She laughed, and the two women laughed with 
 her. She was their heart-warming comrade. She 
 brought into their lonely lives something vivid and 
 sparkling, at which they drank for their soul's re- 
 freshment. 
 
 Nancy spoke of Rodman Warfield. "We want 
 him here for Christmas and the holidays. Do you 
 think he can come?" 
 
 Anne flashed her radiance at them. " I don't 
 think. I know. Mother Nancy, you're an angel." 
 
 " Richard is coming, of course. It will be just a 
 family party. Not many young people for you, my 
 dear. Just Richard." 
 
 There was holly and crow's-foot up in the hills, 
 and David and Anne hitched big Ben to a cart and 
 went after it. It was a winter of snow, and in the 
 depths of the woods there was a great stillness. 
 David chopped a tall cedar and his blows echoed 
 and reechoed in the white spaces. The holly berries 
 that dropped from the cut branches were like drops 
 of blood on the shining crust. 
 
 Nancy and Sulie made up the wreaths and the 
 ropes of green, and fashioned ornaments for the 
 tree. There was to be a bigger tree at the school 
 lor the children, but this was to be a family affair 
 and was to be free from tawdry tinsel and colored 
 
 287
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 glass. Nancy liked straight little candles and sil 
 ver stars. " It shall be an old-fashioned tree," she 
 said, " such as I used to have when I was a child." 
 
 Sulie's raptures were almost solemn in their in- 
 tensity. Richard sent money, plenty of it, and Sulie 
 and Nancy went to Baltimore and spent it. " I 
 never expected," Sulie said, " to go into shops and 
 pick out things that I liked. I've always had to 
 choose things that I needed." 
 
 Now and then on Saturdays when Anne went 
 with them, they rushed through their shopping, had 
 lunch at the Woman's Exchange and went to a 
 matinee. 
 
 Nancy was always glad to get back home, but 
 Sulie revelled in the excitement of it all. Anne 
 made her buy a hat with a flat pink rose which lay 
 enchantingly against her gray hair. 
 
 " I feel sometimes as if I had been born again," 
 Sulie said quaintly ; " like a flower that had shriv- 
 eled up and grown brown, and suddenly found itself 
 blooming in the spring." 
 
 Thus the days went on, and Christmas was not far 
 away. Anne coming in one afternoon found Nancy 
 by the library fire with a letter in her hand. 
 
 " Richard hopes to get here on Friday, Anne, in 
 time for the tree and the children's festival. Some- 
 thing may keep him, however, until Christmas 
 morning. He is very busy and there are some 
 important operations." 
 
 288
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 " How proud you are of him," Anne sank down 
 on the rug, and reached up her hand for Nancy, 
 "and how happy you will be with your big son. 
 Could you ever have loved a daughter as much, 
 Mother Nancy ? " 
 
 "I'm not sure; perhaps," smiling, "if she had 
 been like you. And a daughter would have stayed 
 with me. Men have wandering natures they must 
 be up and out." 
 
 " Women have wandering natures, too," Anne 
 told her. " Do you know that last Christmas I cried 
 and cried because I was tied to the Crossroads school 
 and to Bower's ? I wanted to live in the city and 
 have lovely things. You can't imagine how I hated 
 all Eve Chesley's elegance. I seemed so clumsy 
 and common." 
 
 Nancy stared at her in amazement. " But you 
 surely don't feel that way now." 
 
 " Yes, I do. But I am not unhappy any more. 
 It was silly to be unhappy when I had so much in 
 my life. But if I were a man, I'd be a rover, a vaga- 
 bond I'd take to the open road rather than be tied 
 to one spot" 
 
 There [was laughter in her eyes, but the words 
 rang true. " I want to see new things in new peo- 
 ple. I want to have new experiences there must 
 be a bigger, broader world than this." 
 . Nancy gazing into the fire pondered. " It's the 
 spirit of the age. Perhaps it is the youth in you. 
 
 289
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 I wanted to go, too. But oh, my dear, how I wanted 
 to come back 1 " 
 
 There was silence between them, then Anne said, 
 " Perhaps if I could have my one little fling I'd be 
 content. Perhaps it wouldn't be all that I expected. 
 But I'd like to try." 
 
 On Thursday Anne met the postman as he drove 
 up. There were two parcels for her. One was 
 square and one was long and narrow. There were 
 parcels also for Nancy and Sulie. Anne delivered 
 them, and took her own treasures to her room. She 
 shut and locked her door. Then she stood very still 
 in the middle of the room. Not since she had seen 
 the writing on the long and narrow parcel had her 
 heart ceased to beat madly. 
 
 When at last she sat down and untied the string 
 a faint fragrance assailed her nostrils. Then the 
 gay box with its purple and green and gold was 
 revealed 1 
 
 The little fan was folded about with many thick- 
 nesses of soft paper. But at last she had it out, the 
 dear lovely thing that her love had sent 1 
 
 In that moment all the barriers which she had 
 built about her thoughts of Richard were beaten 
 down and battered by his remembrance of her. 
 There was not a line from him, not a word. Noth- 
 ing but the writing on the wrapper, and the memory 
 of their talk together by the big fire at Bower's on 
 the night of Beulah's party when he had said, 
 
 290
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 " You ought to have a little fan of sandal wood 
 with purple and green tassels and smelling sweet." 
 
 When she went down her cheeks were red with 
 color. " How pretty you are ! " Sulie said, and 
 kissed her. 
 
 Anne showed the book which had come in the 
 square parcel. It was Geoffrey Fox's " Three Souls," 
 and it was dedicated to Anne. 
 
 She did not show the sandalwood fan. It was 
 hidden in her desk. She had a feeling that Nancy 
 and Sulie would not understand, and that Richard 
 had not meant that she should show it. 
 
 Nancy, too, had something which she did not 
 show. One of her letters was from Dr. Austin. He 
 had written without Richard's knowledge. He 
 wished to inquire about Anne Warfield. He had 
 been much impressed by what Richard had said of 
 her. He needed a companion for his daughter 
 Marie-Louise. He wanted a lady, and Cynthia 
 Warfield's grandchild would, of course, be that. He 
 wanted, too, some one who was fearless, and who 
 thought straight. He fancied that from what Rich- 
 ard had said that Anne would be the antidote for 
 his daughter's abnormality. If Nancy would con- 
 firm Richard's opinion, he would write at once to 
 Miss Warfield. A woman's estimate in such a mat- 
 ter would, naturally, be more satisfying. He would 
 pay well, and Anne would be treated in every way 
 as one of the family. Marie-Louise might at first be 
 
 291
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 a little difficult. But in the end, no doubt, she would 
 yield to tact and firmness. 
 
 And he was always devotedly, her old friend ! 
 
 It had seemed to Nancy as she read that some- 
 thing gripped at her heart. It was Anne's presence 
 which had kept her from the black despair of loneli- 
 ness. Sulie was good and true, but she had no 
 power to fill the void made by Richard's absence. 
 If Anne went away, they would be two old women, 
 gazing blankly into an empty future. 
 
 Yet it was Anne's opportunity. The opportunity 
 which her soul had craved. "To see new things and 
 new people." And she was young and wanting much 
 to live. It would not be right or fair to hold her back. 
 
 She had, however, laid the letter aside. When 
 Richard came she would talk it over with him, and 
 then they could talk to Anne. She tried to forget 
 it in the bustle of preparation, but it lay like a 
 shadow in the back of her mind, dimming the bright- 
 ness of the days. 
 
 Everybody was busy. Milly and Sulie and Nancy 
 seeded and chopped and baked, and polished silver, 
 and got out piles of linen, and made up beds, and 
 were all beautifully ready and swept and garnished 
 when Uncle Rodman arrived from Carroll and 
 Brinsley from Baltimore. 
 
 The two old men came on the same train, and 
 David brought them over from Bower's behind big 
 Ben. By the time they reached Crossroads, they had 
 
 292
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 dwelt upon old times and old friends and old loves 
 until they were in the warm and genial state of con- 
 tent which is age's recompense for the loss of youth- 
 ful ardors. 
 
 They were, indeed, three ancient Musketeers, 
 who, untouched now by any flame of great emotion, 
 might adventure safely in a past of sentiment from 
 which they were separated by long years. But 
 there had been a time when passion had burned 
 brightly for them all, even in gentle David, who had 
 loved Cynthia Warfield. 
 
 What wonder, then, if to these three Anne typi- 
 fied that past, and all it meant to them, as she ran 
 to meet them with her arms outflung to welcome 
 Uncle Rod. 
 
 She had them all presently safe on the hearth 
 with the fire roaring, and with Milly bringing them 
 hot coffee, and Sulie and Nancy smiling in an ec- 
 stasy of welcome. 
 
 " It is perfect," Anne said, " to have you all here 
 like this." 
 
 Yet deep in her heart she knew that it was not 
 perfect. For youth calls to youth. And Richard 
 was yet to come ! 
 
 Brinsley had brought hampers of things to eat. 
 He had made epicurean pilgrimages to the Balti- 
 more markets. There were turkeys and ducks and 
 oysters Smithfield hams, a young pig with an apple 
 in its mouth. 
 
 293
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 He superintended the unloading of the hampers 
 when Eric brought them over. Uncle Rod shook 
 his head as he saw them opened. 
 
 " I can make a jar of honey and a handful of al- 
 monds suffice," he said. " I am not keen about 
 butchered birds and beasts." 
 
 Brinsley laughed. " Don't rob me of the joy of 
 living, Rod," he said. " Nancy is bad enough. I 
 wanted to send up some wine. But she wouldn't 
 have it. Even her mince pies are innocent. Nancy 
 sees the whole world through eyes of anxiety for 
 her boy. I don't believe she'd care a snap for tem- 
 perance if she wasn't afraid that her Dicky might 
 drink." 
 
 " Perhaps it is the individual mother's solicitude 
 for her own particular child which makes the femi- 
 nine influence a great moral force," Rodman ven- 
 tured. 
 
 " Perhaps," carelessly. " Now Nancy has a set of 
 wine-glasses that it is a shame not to use." He 
 slapped his hands to warm them. " Let's take a 
 long walk, Rod. I exercise to keep the fat down." 
 
 " I exercise because it is a good old world to walk 
 in," and Rodman swung his long lean legs into an 
 easy stride. 
 
 They picked David up as they passed his little 
 house. They climbed the hill till they came to the 
 edge of the wood where David had cut the tree. 
 
 There was a sunset over the frozen river as they 
 294
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 turned to look at it. The river sang no songs to- 
 day. It was as still and silent as their own dead 
 youth. Yet above it was the clear gold of the even- 
 ing sky. 
 
 " The last time we came we were boys," Brinsley 
 said, " and I was in love with Cynthia Warfield. 
 And we were both in love with her, David ; do you 
 remember ? " 
 
 David did remember. " Anne is like her." 
 
 Rodman protested. " She is and she isn't. Anne 
 has none of Cynthia's faults." 
 
 Brinsley chuckled. " I'll bet you've spoiled her." 
 
 " No, I haven't. But Anne has had to work and 
 wait for things, and it hasn't hurt her." 
 
 "She's a beauty," Brinsley stated, "and she 
 ought to be a belle." 
 
 " She's good," David supplemented ; " the chil- 
 dren at the little school worship her." 
 
 " She's mine," Uncle Rod straightened his shoul- 
 ders, " and in that knowledge I envy no man any- 
 thing." 
 
 As they sat late that night by Nancy's fire, Anne 
 in a white frock played for them, and sang : 
 
 " I think she was the most beautiful lady 
 That ever was in the West Country, 
 But beauty vanishes, beauty passes, 
 However rare, rare it be, 
 And when I am gone, who shall remember 
 That lady of the West Country ? " 
 
 295
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 And when she sang it was of Cynthia Warfield that 
 all of the Old Gentlemen dreamed. 
 
 When the last note had died away, she went over 
 and stood behind her uncle. She was little and 
 slim and straight and her soft hair was swept up 
 high from her forehead. Her eyes above Uncle 
 Rod's head met Nancy's eyes. The two women 
 smiled at each other. 
 
 " To-morrow," Nancy said, and she seemed to say 
 it straight to Anne, " to-morrow Richard will be 
 here." 
 
 Anne caught a quick breath. "To-morrow," she 
 said. " How lovely it will be 1 " 
 
 But Richard did not come on Christmas Eve. A 
 telegram told of imperative demands on him. He 
 would get there in the morning. 
 
 " We won't light the tree until he comes," was 
 Nancy's brave decision. "The early train will get 
 him here in time for breakfast." 
 
 David drove big Ben down to meet him. Milly 
 cooked a mammoth breakfast. Anne slipped across 
 the road to the Crossroads school to ring the bell for 
 the young master's return. The rest of the house- 
 hold waited in the library. Brinsley was there with 
 a story to tell, but no one listened. Their ears were 
 strained to catch the first sharp sound of big Ben's 
 trot. Sulie was there with a red rose in her hair to 
 match the fires which were warming her old heart 
 Nancy was there at the window, watching. 
 
 296
 
 CHRISTMAS 
 
 Then the telephone rang. Nancy was wanted. 
 Long distance. 
 
 It was many minutes before she came back. Yet 
 the message had been short. She had hung up the 
 receiver, and had stood in the hall in a whirling 
 world of darkness. 
 
 Richard was not coming. 
 
 He had been sorry. Tender. Her own sweet 
 son. Yet he had seemed to think that business was 
 a sufficient excuse for breaking her heart. Surely 
 there were doctors enough in that octopus of a 
 town to take his patients off of his hands. And she 
 was his mother and wanted him. 
 
 She had a sense of utter rebellion. She wanted 
 to cry out to the world, " This is my son, for whom 
 I have sacrificed." 
 
 And now the bell across the street began to ring 
 its foolish chime Richard was not coming, ding, 
 dong. She must get through the day without him, 
 ding, dong, she must get through all the years ! 
 
 When she faced the solicitous group in the library, 
 only her whiteness showed what she was feeling. 
 
 " Richard is detained by an important opera- 
 tion. And breakfast is waiting. Sulie, will you 
 call Anne, and light the little tree ? " 
 
 297
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 In Which a Dresden- China Shepherdess and a Country 
 Mouse Meet on Common Ground. 
 
 MARIE-LOUISE'S room at Rose Acres was all 
 in white with two tall candlesticks to light it, 
 and a silver bowl for flowers. It was by means of 
 the flowers in the bowl that Marie-Louise expressed 
 her moods. There were days when scarlet flowers 
 flamed, and other days when pale roses or violets or 
 lilies suggested a less exotic state of mind. 
 
 On the day when Anne Warfield arrived, the 
 flowers in the bowl were yellow. Marie-Louise 
 stayed in bed all of the morning. She had ordered 
 the flowers sent up from the hothouse, and, drag- 
 ging a length of silken dressing-gown behind her, 
 she had arranged them. Then she had had her 
 breakfast on a tray. 
 
 Her hair was nicely combed under a lace cap ; the 
 dressing-gown was faint blue. In the center of the 
 big bed she looked very small but very elegant, as 
 if a Dresden-China Shepherdess had been put be- 
 tween the covers. 
 
 She had told her maid that when Anne arrived 
 she was to be shown up at once. Austin had sug- 
 
 298
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 gested that Marie-Louise go down-town to meet her. 
 But Marie-Louise had refused. 
 
 " I don't want to see her. Why should I ? " 
 
 " She is very charming, Marie-Louise." 
 
 " Who told you ? " 
 
 " Dr. Brooks. And I knew her grandmother." 
 
 " Will Dr. Dicky meet her ? " 
 
 " Yes. And bring her out. I have given him the 
 day." 
 
 " You might have asked me if I wanted her, Dad. 
 I don't want anybody to look after me. I belong to 
 myself." 
 
 " I don't know to whom you belong, Marie-Louise. 
 You're a changeling." 
 
 "I'm not I'm your child. But you don't like 
 my horns and hoofs." 
 
 He gazed at her aghast. " My dear child 1 " 
 
 She began to sob. "I am not your dear child. 
 But I am your child, and I shall hate to have some- 
 body tagging around." 
 
 " Miss Warfield is not to tag. And you'll like her." 
 
 " I shall hate her," said Marie-Louise, between her 
 teeth. 
 
 It was because of this hatred that she had filled 
 her bowl with yellow flowers. Yellow meant jeal- 
 ousy. And she had shrewdly analyzed her state of 
 mind. She was jealous of Anne because Dad and 
 Dr. Richard and everybody else thought that Anne 
 was going to set her a good example. 
 
 299
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 It was early in January that Anne came. The 
 whole thing had been hurried. Austin had been 
 peremptory in his demand that she should not delay. 
 So Nancy, very white but smiling, had packed 
 her off. Sulie had cried over her, and Uncle Rod 
 had wished her " Godspeed." 
 
 Richard met her at the station in the midst of a 
 raging blizzard, and in a sort of dream she had 
 been whirled with him through the gray streets 
 shut in by the veil of the falling snow. They had 
 stopped for tea at a big hotel, which had seemed 
 as they entered to swim in a sea of golden light. 
 And now here she was at last in this palace of a 
 house ! 
 
 Therese led her straight to Marie-Louise. 
 
 The Dresden-China Shepherdess in bed looked 
 down the length of the shadowed room to the door. 
 The figure that stood on the threshold was some- 
 how different from what she had expected. Smaller. 
 More girlish. Lovelier. 
 
 Anne, making her way across a sea of polished 
 floor, became aware of the Shepherdess in bed. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " I am sorry you are ill." 
 
 " I am not ill," said Marie-Louise. " I didn't want 
 you to come." 
 
 Anne smiled. " Oh, but if you knew how much 
 I wanted to come." 
 
 Marie-Louise sat up. " What made you want to 
 come ? " 
 
 300
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 " Because I am a country mouse, and I wanted 
 to see the world." 
 
 " Rose Acres isn't the world." 
 
 " New York is. To me. There is so much that I 
 haven't seen. It is going to be a great adventure." 
 
 The Dresden-China Shepherdess fell down flat. 
 " So that's what you've come for," she said, dully, 
 " adventures here." 
 
 There was a long silence, out of which Anne 
 asked, " How many miles is it to my room?" 
 
 "Miles?" 
 
 "Yes. You see, I am not used to such great 
 houses." 
 
 " It is down the hall in the west wing." 
 
 46 If I get lost it will be my first adventure." 
 
 Marie-Louise turned and took a good look at this 
 girl who made so much out of nothing. Then she 
 said, " Therese will show you. And you can dress 
 at once for dinner. I am not going down." 
 
 " Please do. I shall hate going alone." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Well, there's your father, you know, and your 
 mother. And I'm a country mouse." 
 
 Their eyes met. Marie-Louise had a sudden feel- 
 ing that there was no gulf between them of years or 
 of authority. 
 
 " What shall I call you ? " she asked. " I won't 
 say Miss Warfield." 
 
 " Geoffrey Fox calls me Mistress Anne." 
 301
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Who is Geoffrey Fox ? " 
 
 " He writes books, and he is going blind. He 
 wrote ' Three Souls.' " 
 
 Marie-Louise stared. " Oh, do you know him ? 
 I loved his book." 
 
 " Would you like to know how he came to write 
 it?" 
 
 " Yes. Tell me." 
 
 " Not now. I must go and dress." 
 
 Some instinct told Marie- Louise that argument 
 would be useless. 
 
 " I'll dress, too, and come down. Is Dr. Dicky 
 going to be at dinner?" 
 
 " No. He had to go back at once. He is very 
 busy." 
 
 Marie-Louise slipped out of bed. " Therese," she 
 called, " come and dress me, after you have shown 
 Miss Warfield the way." 
 
 Anne never forgot the moment of entrance into the 
 great dining-room. There were just four of them. 
 Dr. Austin and his wife, herself and Marie-Louise. 
 But for these four there was a formality transcending 
 anything in Anne's experience. Carved marble, 
 tapestry, liveried servants, a massive table with fruit 
 piled high in a Sheffield basket. 
 
 The people were dwarfed by the room. It was as 
 if the house had been built for giants, and had been 
 divorced from its original purpose. Anne, walking 
 with Marie-Louise, wondered whimsically if there 
 
 302
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 were any ceilings or whether the roof touched the 
 stars. 
 
 Mrs. Austin was supported by her husband. She 
 was a little woman with gray hair. She wore pearls 
 and silver. Anne was in white. Marie-Louise in 
 a quaint frock of gold brocade. There seemed to 
 be no color in the room except the gold of the fire 
 on the great hearth, the gold of the oranges on the 
 table, and the gold of Marie-Louise's gown. 
 
 Mrs. Austin was pale and silent. But she had 
 attentive eyes. Anne was uncomfortably possessed 
 with the idea that the little lady listened and criti- 
 cized, or at least that she held her opinion in reserve. 
 
 Marie-Louise spoke of Geoffrey Fox. " Miss War- 
 field knows him. She knows how he came to write 
 his book." 
 
 Anne told them how he came to write it. Of 
 Peggy ill at Bower's, of the gray plush pussy cat, 
 and of how, coming up the hall with the bowl of 
 soup in her hand, she had found Fox in a despairing 
 mood and had suggested the plot. 
 
 Austin, watching her, decided that she was most 
 unusual. She was beautiful, but there was some- 
 thing more than beauty. It was as if she was lighted 
 from within by a fire which gave warmth not only 
 to herself but to those about her. 
 
 He was glad that he had brought her here to be 
 with Marie-Louise. For the moment even his wife's 
 pale beauty seemed cold. 
 
 303
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " We'll have Fox up," he said, when she finished 
 her story. 
 
 Anne was sure that he would be glad to come. 
 She blushed a little as she said it. 
 
 Later, when they were having coffee in the little 
 drawing-room, Marie-Louise taxed her with the 
 blush. " Is he in love with you ? " 
 
 Anne felt it best to be frank. " He thought he 
 was." 
 
 " Don't you love him ? " 
 
 " No, Marie-Louise. And we mustn't talk about 
 it. Love is a sacred thing." 
 
 " I like to talk about it. In summer I talk to Pan. 
 But he's out now in the snow and his pipes are 
 frozen." 
 
 The little drawing-room seemed to Anne anything 
 but little until she learned that there was a larger 
 one across the hall. Austin and his wife went up- 
 stairs as soon as the coffee had been served, and 
 Marie-Louise led Anne through the shadowy vast- 
 ness of the great drawing-room to a window which 
 overlooked the river. " You can't see the river, 
 but the light over the doorway shines on my old 
 Pan's head. You can see him grinning out of the 
 snow." 
 
 The effect of that white head peering from the 
 blackness was uncanny. The shaft of light struck 
 straight across the peaked chin and twisted mouth. 
 The snow had made him a cap which covered his 
 
 304
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 horns and which gave him the look of a rakish old 
 tipster. 
 
 " Oh, Marie-Louise, do you talk to him of love ? " 
 
 "Yes. Wait till you see him in the spring with 
 the pink roses back of him. He seems to get 
 younger in the spring." 
 
 Anne, going to bed that night in a suite of rooms 
 which might have belonged to a princess, wondered 
 if she should wake in the morning and find herself 
 dreaming. To have her own bath, a silk canopy 
 over her head, to know that breakfast would be 
 served when she rang for it, and that her mail and 
 newspapers would be brought these were unbeliev- 
 able things. She had a feeling that if she told Uncle 
 Rod he would shake his head over it. He had a 
 theory that luxury tended to cramp the soul. 
 
 Yet her last thought was not of Uncle Rod but of 
 Richard. She had come intending to give him a 
 sharp opinion of his neglect of Nancy. But he had 
 been so glad to see her, and had given her such a 
 good time. Yet she had spoken of Nancy's loneli- 
 ness. 
 
 " I hated to leave her," she said, " but it seemed 
 as if I had to come." 
 
 " Of course," he agreed, with his eyes on her glow- 
 ing face, " and anyhow, she has Sulie." 
 
 Marie-Louise, in the days that followed, found in- 
 terest and occupation in showing the Country Mouse 
 the sights of the city. 
 
 305
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " If you want to see such things," she said rather 
 grandly, " I shall be glad to go with you." 
 
 Anne insisted that they should not be driven in 
 state and style. " People make pilgrimages on 
 foot," she told Marie-Louise gravely, but with a 
 twinkle in her eye. " I don't want to whirl up to 
 Grant's tomb, or to the door of Trinity. And I like 
 the subway and the elevated and the surface cars." 
 
 If now and then they compromised on a taxi, it 
 was because distances were too great at times, and 
 other means of transportation too slow. But in the 
 main they stuck to their original plan, and Marie- 
 Louise entered a new world. 
 
 " Oh, I love you for it," she said to Anne one 
 night when they came home from the Battery after 
 a day in which they had gazed down into the pit of 
 the Stock Exchange, had lunched at Faunce's Tav- 
 ern, had circled the great Aquarium, and ended with 
 a ride on top of a Fifth Avenue 'bus in the twilight. 
 
 It was from the top of the 'bus that Anne for the 
 first time since she had come to New York saw 
 Evelyn Chesley. 
 
 She was coming out of a shop with Richard. It 
 was a great shop with a world-famous name over 
 the door. One bought furniture there of a rare kind 
 and draperies of a rare kind and now and then a 
 picture. 
 
 "They are getting things for their apartment," 
 Marie-Louise explained, and her words struck cold 
 
 306
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 against Anne's heart. " Eve is paying for them 
 with Aunt Maude's money." 
 
 " When will they be married ? " 
 
 " Next October. But Eve is buying things as she 
 sees them. I don't want her to marry Dr. Dicky." 
 
 " Why not, Marie-Louise ? " 
 
 "He isn't her kind. He ought to have fallen in 
 love with you." 
 
 " Marie-Louise, I told you not to talk of love." 
 
 " I shall talk of anything I please." 
 
 "Then you'll talk to the empty air. I won't 
 listen. I'll go up there and sit with that fat man in 
 front." 
 
 Marie-Louise laughed. "You're such an old 
 dear. Do you know how nice you look in those 
 furs ? " 
 
 " I feel so elegant that I am ashamed of myself. 
 I've peeped into every mirror. They cost a whole 
 month's salary, Marie-Louise. I feel horribly ex- 
 travagant and happy." 
 
 They laughed together, and it was then that 
 Marie-Louise said, " I love it." 
 
 " Love what ? " 
 
 " Going with you and being young." 
 
 In the days that followed Anne found herself 
 revelling in the elegances of her life, in the excite- 
 ments. It was something of an experience to meet 
 Evelyn Chesley on equal grounds in the little draw- 
 ing-room. Anne always took Mrs. Austin's place 
 
 37
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 when there were gatherings of young folks. Marie- 
 Louise refused to be tied, and came and went as the 
 spirit moved her. So it was Anne who in something 
 shimmering and silken moved among the tea guests, 
 and danced later in slippers as shining as anything 
 Eve had ever worn. 
 
 It was on this day that Geoffrey Fox came and 
 met Marie-Louise for the first time. 
 
 " I can't dance," he told her ; " my eyes are bad, 
 and things seem to whirl." 
 
 " If you'll talk," she said, " I'll sit at your feet and 
 listen." 
 
 She did it literally, perched on a small gold stool. 
 
 "Tell me about your book," she said, looking up 
 at him. "Anne Warfield says that you wrote it at 
 Bower's." 
 
 " I wrote it because she helped me to write it. 
 But she did more for me than that." His eyes were 
 following the shining figure. 
 
 "What did she do?" 
 
 " She gave me a soul. She taught me that there 
 was something in me that was not the flesh and 
 the devil." 
 
 The girl on the footstool understood. " She be- 
 lieves in things, and makes you believe." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I hated to have her come," Marie- Louise con- 
 fessed, "and now I should hate to have her go 
 away. She calls herself a country mouse, and I am 
 
 308
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 showing her the sights we go to corking places 
 on pilgrimages. We went to Grant's tomb, and she 
 made me carry a wreath. And we ride in the sub- 
 way and drink hot chocolate in drug stores. 
 
 " She says I haven't learned the big lessons of 
 democracy," Marie- Louise pursued, " that I've looked 
 out over the world, but that I have never been a 
 part of it. That I've sat on a tower in a garden and 
 have peered through a telescope." 
 
 She told him of the play that she had written, and 
 of the verses that she had read to the piping Pan. 
 
 Later she pointed out Pan to him from the window 
 of the big drawing-room. The snow had melted in 
 the last mild days, and there was an icicle on his 
 nose, and the sun from across the river reddened his 
 cheeks. 
 
 "And there, everlastingly, he makes music," 
 Geoffrey said, " ' on the reed which he tore from 
 the river.' " 
 
 " ' Yes, half a beast is the great god, Pan, 
 To laugh as he sits by the river, 
 Making a poet out of a man. 
 The true gods sigh for the cost and pain, 
 For the reed that grows nevermore again, 
 As a reed with the reeds in the river.' " 
 
 His voice died away into silence. " That is the 
 price which the writer pays. He is separated, as it 
 were, from his kind." 
 
 " Oh, no," Marie-Louise breathed, " oh, no. Not 
 309
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 you. Your writings bring you close. Your book 
 made me cry." 
 
 She was such a child as she stood there, yet with 
 something in her, too, of womanliness. 
 
 " When your three soldiers died," she said, " it 
 made me believe something that I hadn't believed 
 before about souls marching toward a great 
 light." 
 
 Geoffrey found himself confiding in her. " I don't 
 know whether you will understand. But ever since 
 I wrote that book I have felt that I must live up to 
 it. That I must be worthy of the thing I had writ- 
 ten." 
 
 Richard, dancing in the music room with Anne, 
 found himself saying, " How different it all is." 
 
 " From Bower's ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Do you like it?" 
 
 "Sometimes. And then sometimes it all seems 
 so big and useless." 
 
 The music stopped, and they made their way back 
 to the little drawing-room. 
 
 "Won't you sit here and talk to me?" Richard 
 said. " Somehow we never seem to find time to 
 talk." 
 
 She smiled. " There is always so much to do." 
 
 But she knew that it was not the things to be done 
 which had kept her from him. It was rather a sense 
 that safety lay in seeing as little of him as possible. 
 
 310
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 And so, throughout the winter she had built about 
 herself barriers of reserve. Yet there had never been 
 a moment when he had dined with them, or when 
 he had danced, or when he had shared their box at 
 the opera, that she had not been keenly conscious of 
 his presence. 
 
 " And so you think it is all so big and useless?" 
 He picked up the conversation where they had 
 dropped it when the dance stopped. 
 
 She nodded. " A house like this isn't a home. I 
 told Marie-Louise the other day that a home was a 
 place where there was a little fire, with somebody 
 on each side of it, and where there was a little table 
 with two people smiling across it, and with a pot 
 boiling and a woman to stir it, and with a light in 
 the window and a man coming home." 
 
 " And what did Marie-Louise say to that ? " 
 
 " She wrote a poem about it. A nice healthy 
 sane little poem not one of those dreadful things 
 about the ashes of dead women which I found her 
 doing when I came." 
 
 " How did you cure her ? " 
 
 " I am giving her real things to think of. When 
 she gets in a morbid mood I whisk her off to the 
 gardener's cottage, and we wash and dress the baby 
 and take him for an airing." 
 
 Richard gave a big laugh. " With your head in 
 the stars, you have your feet always firmly on the 
 ground."
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " I try to, but I like to know that there are always 
 stars." 
 
 " No one could be near you and not know that," 
 he told her gravely. 
 
 It was a danger signal. She rose. " I have a 
 feeling that you are neglecting somebody. You 
 haven't danced yet with Miss Chesley." 
 
 " Oh, Eve's all right," easily ; " sit down." 
 
 But she would not. She sent him from her. His 
 place was by Eve's side. He was going to marry Eve. 
 
 It was late that night when Marie-Louise came 
 into Anne's room. "Are you asleep?" she asked, 
 with the door at a crack. 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Will you mind if I talk ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 Anne was in front of her open fire, writing to 
 Uncle Rod. The fire was another of the luxuries in 
 which she revelled. It was such a wonder of a fire- 
 place, with its twinkling brasses, and its purring logs. 
 She remembered the little round stove in her room 
 at Bower's. 
 
 Marie-Louise had come to talk of Geoffrey Fox. 
 
 " I adore his eye-glasses." 
 
 " Oh, Marie-Louise his poor eyes." 
 
 " He isn't poor," the child said, passionately, " not 
 even his eyes. Milton was blind and and there 
 was his poetry." 
 
 312
 
 COMMON GROUND 
 
 " Dr. Dicky hopes his eyes are getting better." 
 
 " He says they are. That he sees things now 
 through a sort of silver rain. He has to have some 
 one write for him. His little sister Mimi has been 
 doing it, but she is going to be married." 
 
 "Mimi?" 
 
 " Yes. He found out that she had a lover, and so 
 he has insisted. And then he will be left alone." 
 
 She sat gazing into the fire, a small humped-up 
 figure in a gorgeous dressing-gown. At last she 
 said, " Why didn't you love him?" 
 
 " There was some one else, Marie- Louise." 
 
 Marie-Louise drew close and laid her red head on 
 Anne's knee. "Some one that you are going to 
 marry ? " 
 
 Anne shook her head. " Some one whom I shall 
 never marry. He loves another girl, Marie-Lou- 
 ise." 
 
 " Oh ! " There was a long silence, as the two 
 of them gazed into the fire. Then Marie-Louise 
 reached up a thin little hand to Anne's warm clasp. 
 "That's always the way, isn't it? It is a sort of 
 game, with Love always flitting away to another 
 girl." 
 
 313
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 In Which St. Michael Hears a Call. 
 
 IT was in April that Geoffrey Fox wrote to Anne. 
 " When I told you that I was coming back to 
 Bower's, I said that I wanted quiet to think out my 
 new book, but I did not tell you that I fancied I 
 might find your ghost flitting through the halls, or 
 on the road to the schoolhouse. I felt that there 
 might linger in the long front room the glowing 
 spirit of the little girl who sat by the fire and talked 
 to me of my soldiers and their souls. 
 
 "And what I thought has come true. You are 
 everywhere, Mistress Anne, not as I last saw you at 
 Rose Acres in silken attire, but fluttering before me 
 in your frock of many flounces, carrying your star 
 of a lantern through the twilight on your way to 
 
 Diogenes, scolding me on the stairs ! What 
 
 days, what hours ! And always you were the little 
 school-teacher, showing your wayward scholars what 
 to do with life ! 
 
 " Perhaps I have done with it less than you ex- 
 pected. But at least I have done more with it than 
 I had hoped. I am lining my pockets with money, 
 and Mimi has a chest of silver. That is the immedi- 
 ate material effect of the sale of ' Three Souls.' But
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 there is more than the material effect. The letters 
 which I get from the people who have read the book 
 are like wine to my soul. To think that I, Geoffrey 
 Fox, who have frittered and frivoled, should have 
 put on paper things which have burned into men's 
 consciousness and have made them better. I could 
 never have done it except for you. Yet in all hu- 
 mility I can say that I have done it, and that never 
 while life lasts shall I think again of my talent as a 
 little thing. 
 
 " For it is a great thing, Mistress Anne, to have 
 written a book. In all of my pot-boiling days I 
 would never have believed it. A plot was a plot, 
 and presto, the thing was done ! The world read 
 and forgot. But the world doesn't forget. Not 
 when we give our best, and when we aim to get 
 below the surface things and the shallow things and 
 call up out of men's hearts that which, in these prac- 
 tical days, they try to hide. 
 
 " I suppose Brooks has told you about my eyes, 
 and of how it may happen that I shall, for the rest 
 of my life, be able to see through a glass darkly. 
 
 "That is something to be thankful for, isn't it? 
 It is a rather weird experience when, having adjusted 
 one's self in anticipation of a catastrophe, the catas- 
 trophe hangs fire. Like old Pepys, I had resigned 
 myself to the inevitable indeed in those awful wait- 
 ing days I read, more than once, the last paragraph 
 of his diary. 
 
 315
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " ' And so I betake myself to that course which it is 
 almost as much as to see myself go into my grave ; 
 for which, and all the discomforts that will accom- 
 pany my being blind, the good God prepare me ! ' 
 
 " Yet Pepys kept his sight all the rest of his life, 
 and regretted, I fancy, more than once, that he did 
 not finish his diary. And, perhaps, I, too, shall be 
 granted this dim vision until the end. 
 
 " It seems to me that there are many things which 
 I ought to tell you I know there are a thousand 
 things which are forbidden. But at least I can speak 
 of Diogenes. I saw him at Crossroads the other 
 day, much puffed up with pride of family. And I 
 can speak of Mrs. Nancy, who is a white shadow of 
 herself. Why doesn't Brooks see it ? He was down 
 here for a week recently, and he didn't seem to 
 realize that anything was wrong. Perhaps she is 
 always so radiant when he comes that she dazzles 
 his eyes. 
 
 " She and Miss Sulie are a pathetic pair. I meet 
 them on the road on their errands of mercy. They 
 are like two sisters of charity in their long capes and 
 little bonnets. Evidently Mrs. Brooks feels that if 
 her son cannot doctor the community she can at 
 least nurse it. The country folks adore her, and go 
 to her for advice, so that Crossroads still opens wide 
 its doors to the people, as it did in the days of old 
 Dr. Brooks. 
 
 " And now, does the Princess still serve ? I can
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 see you with your blue bowl on your way to Peggy, 
 and stopping on the stairs to light for me the torch 
 of inspiration. And now all of this service and in- 
 spiration is being spilled at the feet of Marie-Louise ! 
 Will you give her greetings, and ask her how soon I 
 may come and worship at the shrine of her grinning 
 old god?" 
 
 Anne, carrying his letter to Marie-Louise, asked, 
 " Shall I tell him to come?" 
 
 " Yes. I didn't want him to go away, but he said 
 he must that he couldn't write here. But I knew 
 why he went, and you knew." 
 
 " You needn't look at me so reproachfully, Marie- 
 Louise. It isn't my fault.' 
 
 " It is your fault," Marie-Louise accused her, " for 
 being like a flame. Father says that people hold 
 out their hands to you as they do to a fire." 
 
 " And what," Anne demanded, " has all this to do 
 with Geoffrey Fox?" 
 
 "You know," Marie-Louise told her bluntly, "he 
 loves you and looks up to you and I sit at his 
 feet." 
 
 There was something of tenseness in the small face 
 framed by the red hair. Anne touched Marie- 
 Louise's cheek with a tender finger. " Dear heart," 
 she said, " he is just a man." 
 
 For a moment the child stood very still, then she 
 said, " Is he ? Or is he a god, like my Pan in the 
 garden ? " 
 
 317
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Later she decided that Geoffrey should come in 
 May. " When there are roses. And I'll have some 
 people out." 
 
 It was in May that Rose Acres justified its name. 
 The marble Pan piping on his reeds faced a garden 
 abloom with beauty. At the right, a grass walk led 
 down to a sunken fountain approached by wide stone 
 steps. 
 
 It was on these steps that Marie-Louise sat one 
 morning, weaving a garland. 
 
 " I am going to tie it with gold ribbon," she said. 
 " Tibbs got the laurel for me." 
 
 "Who is it for?" 
 
 " It may be for Pan," Marie-Louise wore an air 
 of mystery, " and it may not." 
 
 She stuck it later on Pan's head, but the effect did 
 not please her. "You are nothing but a grinning 
 old marble doll," she told him, and Anne laughed at 
 her. 
 
 " I hoped some day you'd find that out." 
 
 Richard, arriving late that afternoon, found Mrs. 
 Austin on the terrace. "The young people are in 
 the garden," she said ; " will you hunt them up ? " 
 
 " I want to talk to Dr. Austin, if I may." 
 
 " He's in the house. He was called to the tele- 
 phone." 
 
 Austin, coming out, found his young assistant on 
 the portico.
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 "Can you give me a second, sir? I've a letter 
 from mother. There's a lot of sickness at Cross- 
 roads. And I feel responsible." 
 
 " Why should you feel responsible ? " 
 
 " It's the water supply. Typhoid. If I had been 
 there I should have had it looked into. I had started 
 an investigation but there was no one to push it. 
 And now there are a dozen cases. Eric Brand's lit- 
 tle wife, Beulah, and old Peter Bovver, and the mother 
 of little Frangois." 
 
 "And you are thinking that you ought to go 
 down?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " I don't see how I can let you go. It doesn't 
 make much difference where people are sick, Brooks, 
 there's always so much for us doctors to do." 
 
 " But if I could be spared " 
 
 " You can't, Brooks. I am sorry. But I've learned 
 to depend on you." 
 
 The older man laid his hand affectionately on the 
 shoulder of the younger. If for the moment Richard 
 felt beneath the softness of that touch the iron glove 
 of one who expected obedience from a subordinate, 
 he did not show it by word or glance. 
 
 They talked of other things after that, and pres- 
 ently Richard wandered off to find Eve. He passed 
 beyond the terraces to the garden. He felt tired and 
 depressed. The fragrance of the roses was heavy 
 and almost overpowering. There was a stone bench 
 
 3*9
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 set in the midst of a tangle of bloom. He sank down 
 on it, asking nothing better than to sit there alone 
 and think it out. 
 
 He felt at this moment, strongly, what had come 
 to him many times during the winter that he was 
 not in any sense his own master. Austin directed, 
 controlled, commanded. For the opportunity which 
 he had given young Brooks he expected the return 
 of acquiescence. Thus it happened that Richard 
 found less of big things and more of little ones in his 
 life than he had anticipated. There had been times 
 when the moral side of a case had appealed to him 
 more than the medical, when he had been moved by 
 generosities such as had moved his grandfather, 
 when he had wanted to be human rather than pro- 
 fessional, and always he had found Austin blocking 
 his idealistic impulses, scoffing at the things he had 
 valued, imposing upon him a somewhat hard philos- 
 ophy in the place of a living faith. It seemed to 
 Richard that in his profession, as well as in his love 
 affair, he was no longer meeting life with a direct 
 glance. 
 
 He rose and went on. He must find Eve. He 
 had promised and yet in that moment he knew that 
 he did not want to see her. He wanted his mother's 
 touch, her understanding, her love. He wanted 
 Crossroads and big Ben and the people who, 
 because of his grandfather, had called him 
 "friend." 
 
 320
 
 HER RED HAIR CAUGHT THE SUNLIGHT
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 He found Anne and Geoffrey and Marie-Louise 
 by the fountain at the end of the grass walk. Marie" 
 Louise perched on the rim was, in her pale green 
 gown, like some nymph freshly risen. Her hat was 
 off, and her red hair caught the sunlight. 
 
 Anne was reading the first chapter of Geoffrey's 
 new book. He sat just above her on the steps of 
 the fountain. His glasses were off, and as he looked 
 down at her his eyes showed a brilliancy which 
 seemed to contradict his failing sight. 
 
 Marie-Louise held up a warning finger. " Sit 
 down," she said, " and listen. It is such a wonder- 
 book, Dr. Dicky." 
 
 So Richard sat down and Anne went on reading. 
 She read well ; her voice had a thrilling quality, and 
 once it broke. 
 
 " Oh, why did you make it so sad ? " she said. 
 
 " Could I make it glad ? " he asked, and to 
 Richard, watching, there came the jealous certainty 
 that between the two of them there was some subtle 
 understanding. 
 
 When at last Anne had read all that he had 
 written Marie-Louise said, importantly, " Anne is 
 the heroine, the Princess who serves. Will you ever 
 make me the heroine of a book, Geoffrey Fox ? " 
 
 " Perhaps. Give me a plot ? " 
 
 " Have a girl who loves a marble god then some 
 day she meets a man and the god is afraid he will 
 lose her, so he wakes to life and says, ' If you love 
 
 321
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 this man, you will have to accept the common lot of 
 women, you will have to work for him and obey him 
 and some day he will die and your soul will be 
 rent with sorrow. But if you love me, I shall be 
 here when you are forgotten, and while you live my 
 love will demand nothing but the verses that you 
 read to me and the roses that lay at my feet.' " 
 
 Geoffrey gave her an eager glance. "Jove, 
 there's more in that than a joke. Some day I shall 
 get you to amplify your idea." 
 
 " I'll give it to you if you promise to write the 
 book here. There's a balcony room that overlooks 
 the river and nobody would ever interrupt you but 
 me, and I'd only come when you wanted me." 
 
 Marie-Louise's breath was short as she finished. 
 To cover her emotion she caught up the wreath 
 which she had made in the morning, and which lay 
 beside her. 
 
 " I made it for you," she told Geoffrey, " and now 
 that I've done it, I don't know what to do with it." 
 
 She was blushing and glowing, less of an imp 
 and more of a girl than Richard had ever seen her. 
 
 Geoffrey rose to the occasion. " It shall be a 
 mascot for my new book. I'll hang it on the wall 
 over my desk, and every time I look up at it, it shall 
 say to me, ' These are the laurels you are to win.' ' 
 
 " You have won them," Marie-Louise flashed. 
 
 "No artist ever feels himself worthy of laurel. 
 His achievement always falls short of his ambition " 
 
 322
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 " But ' Three Souls,' " Marie- Louise said ; " surely 
 you were satisfied ? " 
 
 " I did not write it the credit belongs to Mistress 
 Anne. Your wreath should be hers." 
 
 But Marie-Louise's mind was made up. Before 
 Geoffrey could grasp what she was about to do, she 
 fluttered up the steps, and dropped the garland 
 lightly on his dark locks. 
 
 It became him well. 
 
 " Do you like it?" he asked Anne. 
 
 " To the Victor the spoils," she told him, smil- 
 ing. 
 
 Richard felt out of it. He wanted to get away, 
 and he knew that he must find Eve. Eve, who 
 when he met her would laugh her light laugh, and 
 call him " Dicky Boy," and refuse to listen when he 
 spoke of Crossroads. 
 
 The path that he took led to a little tea house 
 built on the bank, which gave a wide view of the 
 river and the Jersey hills. He found Winifred and 
 Tony side by side and silent. 
 
 " Better late than never," was Tony's greeting. 
 
 " I am hunting for Eve." 
 
 " She and Meade were here a moment ago," 
 Winifred informed him. " Sit down and give an 
 account of yourself. We haven't seen you in a 
 million years." 
 
 "Just a week, dear lady. I have been horribly 
 busy." 
 
 323
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " You say that as if you meant the ' horribly.' ' 
 
 " I do. It has been a ' bluggy ' business, and I 
 am tired." He laughed with a certain amount of 
 constraint. " If I were a boy, I should say ' I want 
 to go home.' ' 
 
 Winifred gave him a quick glance. " What has 
 happened ? " 
 
 " Oh, everybody is ill at Crossroads. Beastly 
 conditions. And they ought to have been corrected. 
 Beulah's ill." 
 
 "The little bride?" 
 
 "Yes. And Eric is frantic. He has written me, 
 asking me to come down. But Austin can't see it." 
 
 11 Could you go for the day ? " 
 
 " If I went for a day I should stay longer. There's 
 everything to be done." 
 
 He switched away from the subject. " Crowd 
 seems to have separated. Fox and Anne Warfield 
 by the fountain. You and Tony here, and Eve and 
 Pip as yet undiscovered." 
 
 " It is the day," Winifred decided, " all romance 
 and roses. Even Tony and I were a-lovering when 
 Eve found us." 
 
 Richard rose. "Tony, she wants to hold your 
 hand. I'll get out." 
 
 Winifred laughed. " You'd better go and hold 
 Eve's." 
 
 As he went away, Richard wondered if there was 
 anything significant in her way of saying it. 
 
 324
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 Eve and Pip were in the enclosed space where 
 Pan gleamed white against the dark cedars. Eve 
 was seated on the sun-dial. Pip had lifted her there, 
 and he stood leaning against it. Her lap was full of 
 roses, and there were roses on her hat. The high 
 note of color was repeated in the pink sunshade 
 which lay open where the wind had wafted it to the 
 feet of the piping Pan. 
 
 Pip straightened up as he saw Richard approach- 
 ing. " There comes your eager lover, Eve. Give 
 me a rose before he gets here." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Why not ? " 
 
 " I'm afraid." 
 
 "Of me?" 
 
 "No. But if I give you anything you'll take 
 more. And I want to give everything to Dicky." 
 
 He laughed a triumphant laugh. "I take all I 
 can get. Give me a rose, Eve." 
 
 She yielded to his masterfulness. Out of the mass 
 of bloom she chose a pink bud. " I shall give a red 
 one to Dicky, so don't feel puffed up." 
 
 " I told you I should take what I could get, and 
 Brooks isn't thinking of roses. Look at his face." 
 
 " I am sorry to be so late, Eve," Richard said, as 
 he came up. " I am always apologizing, it seems 
 to me." 
 
 "Little Boy Blue ! Dicky, what's the mat- 
 ter?" 
 
 3 2 5
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " I want to go home." He tried to speak lightly 
 to follow her mood. 
 
 " Home to Crossroads ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "But why?" 
 
 "There's typhoid, and they don't know how to 
 cope with it" 
 
 " Aren't there other doctors ? " 
 
 " Yes, but not enough." 
 
 " Nonsense ; what did they do before you came to 
 the county ? You must get rid of the feeling that 
 you are so important." She was angry. Little 
 sparks were in her eyes. 
 
 " Don't worry, Eve. Austin doesn't want me to 
 go. I can't get away. But it is on my mind." 
 
 " Put it off and come and help me with my roses. 
 I gave Pip a bud. Are you jealous, Dicky ? " 
 
 Still trying to follow her mood, he said, "You 
 and the rest of the roses belong to me. Why should 
 I care for one poor bud ? " 
 
 She stuck a red rose in his coat, and when she had 
 made her flowers into a nosegay, he lifted her down 
 from the sun-dial. For a moment she clung to him. 
 Meade had gone to rescue the sunshade which was 
 blowing down the slope, and for the moment they 
 were alone. " Dicky," she whispered, " I was hor- 
 rid, but you mustn't go." 
 
 " I told you I couldn't, Eve." 
 
 Then Pip came back, and the three of them made 
 326
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 their way to the fountain, picking up Winifred and 
 Tony as they passed. Tea was served on the terrace, 
 and a lot of other people motored out. There was 
 much laughter and lightness as if there were no 
 trouble in the whole wide world. 
 
 Richard felt separated from it all by his mood, 
 and when he went to the house to send a message 
 for Austin to the hospital, he did not at once return 
 to the terrace. He sought the great library. It was 
 dim and quiet and he lay back in one of the big 
 chairs and shut his eyes. The vision was before 
 him of Pip leaning oh the sun-dial against a rose- 
 splashed background, with Eve smiling down at 
 him. It had come to him then that Pip should have 
 married Eve. Pip would make her happy. The 
 thing was all wrong in some way, but he could not 
 see clearly how to make it right. 
 
 There was a sound in the room and he opened his 
 eyes to find Marie-Louise on the ladder which gave 
 access to the shelves of the great bookcases which 
 lined the walls. She had not seen him, and she 
 was singing softly to herself. In the dimness the 
 color of her hair and gown gave a stained-glass 
 effect against a background of high square east win- 
 dow. 
 
 Richard sat up. What was she singing ? 
 
 " I think she was the most beautiful lady 
 That ever was in the West Country, 
 beauty vanishes, beauty passes, 
 
 327
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 However rare, rare it be. 
 
 And when I am gout, who shall remember 
 
 That lady of the West Country ? " 
 
 "Marie-Louise," he asked so suddenly that she 
 nearly fell off of the shelves, " where did you learn 
 that song ? " 
 
 " From Mistress Anne." 
 
 " When you sing it do you think of her ? " 
 
 " Yes. Do you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 Marie-Louise sat down on the top step of the lad- 
 der. " Dr. Dicky, may I ask a question ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Why didn't you fall in love with Anne ? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " Oh 1 Then why didn't you marry her ? " 
 
 " She is going to marry Geoffrey Fox." 
 
 Dead silence. Then, " Did she tell you?" 
 
 " No. He told me. Last spring." 
 
 " Before you came here ? " 
 
 " Yes. That was the reason I came. I wanted to 
 get away from everything that spoke of her." 
 
 Marie- Louise slipped down from the ladder and 
 came and stood beside him. "He told you," she 
 said in a sharp whisper, " but there must be some 
 mistake. She doesn't love him. She said that she 
 didn't. I wonder why he lied." 
 
 There was nothing cold about her now. She was 
 a fiery spark. " Only a cad could do such a thing 
 
 328
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 and I thought oh, Dr. Dicky, I thought he was 
 a man " 
 
 She flung herself at his feet like a stricken child. 
 He went down to her. " Marie-Louise, stop. Sit 
 up and tell me what's the matter." 
 
 She sat up. " I shall ask Anne. I shall go and 
 get her and ask her." 
 
 He found himself calling after her, " Marie- Louise," 
 but she was gone. 
 
 She came back presently, dragging the protest- 
 ing Anne. " But Marie- Louise, what do you want of 
 me?" 
 
 Richard, rising, said, " Please don't think I per- 
 mitted this. I tried to stop her." 
 
 " I didn't want to be stopped," Marie-Louise told 
 them. " I want to know whether you and Geoffrey 
 Fox are going to be married." 
 
 Anne's cheeks were stained red. " Of course not. 
 But it isn't anything to get so excited about, is it, 
 Marie-Louise ? " 
 
 " Yes, it is. He told Dr. Dicky that you were, and 
 he lied. And I thought, oh, you know the wonder- 
 ful things I thought about him, Mistress Anne." 
 
 Anne's arm went around the sad little nymph in 
 green. "You must still think wonderful things of 
 him. He was very unhappy, and desperate about 
 his eyes. And it seemed to him that to assert a 
 thing might make it come true." 
 
 " But you didn't love him ? " 
 329
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Never, Marie-Louise." 
 
 And now Richard, ignoring the presence of Marie- 
 Louise, ignoring everything but the question which 
 beat against his heart, demanded : 
 
 " If you knew that he had told me this, why didn't 
 you make things clear ? " 
 
 " When I might have made things clear you 
 were engaged to Eve." 
 
 She turned abruptly from him to Marie-Louise. 
 " Run back to your poet, dear heart He is waiting 
 for the book that you were going to bring him. And 
 remember that you are not to sit in judgment You 
 are to be eyes for him, and light" 
 
 It was a sober little nymph in green who marched 
 away with her book. Geoffrey sat on the stone 
 bench a little withdrawn from the others. His lean 
 face, straining toward the house, relaxed as she 
 came within his line of vision. 
 
 " You were a long time away," he said, and made 
 a place for her beside him, and she sat down and 
 opened her book. 
 
 And now, back in the dim library, Anne and 
 Richard ! 
 
 " I stayed," she said, " because they were speaking 
 out there of Crossroads. I have had a letter, too, 
 from Sulie. She says that the situation is desperate." 
 
 "Yes. They need me. And I ought to go. 
 They are my people. I feel that in a sense I belong 
 to them as my grandfather belonged." 
 
 330
 
 ST. MICHAEL HEARS A CALL 
 
 " Do you mean that if you go now you will 
 stay?" 
 
 " I am not sure. The future must take care of it- 
 self." 
 
 "Your mother would be glad if your decision 
 finally came to that." 
 
 "Yes. And I should be glad. But this time I 
 shall not go for my mother's sake alone. Some- 
 thing deeper is drawing me. I can't quite analyze 
 it. It is a call " he laughed a little " such as men 
 describe who enter the ministry, an irresistible im- 
 pulse, as if I were to find something there that I had 
 lost in the city." 
 
 She held out her hand to him. " Do you know 
 the name I had for you when you were at Cross- 
 roads?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 " I called you St. Michael because it always 
 seemed to me that you carried a sword." 
 
 He tightened his grip on the little hand. " Some 
 day I shall hope to justify the name ; I don't deserve 
 it now." 
 
 Her eyes came up to him. " You'll fight to win," 
 she said, softly. 
 
 He did not want to let her go. But there was no 
 other way. But when she had joined the others on 
 the terrace he made a wide detour of the garden, 
 and wandered down to the river. 
 
 It was not a singing river, but to-day it seemed to
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 have a song, " Go back, go back" it said ; "you have 
 seen the world, you have seen the world." 
 
 And when he had listened for a little while he 
 climbed the hill to tell Austin and to tell Eve. 
 
 332
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 In Which Anne Weighs the People of Two Worlds. 
 
 RICHARD!" 
 " Yes, mother, I'm here. Austin thinks I 
 am crazy, and Eve won't speak to me. But I 
 came. And to think you have turned the house 
 into a hospital ! " 
 
 "It seemed the only thing to do. Frangois* 
 mother had no one to take care of her and there 
 were others, and the house is big." 
 
 " You are the biggest thing in it. Mother, if I 
 ever pray to a saint, it will be one with gray hair in 
 a nurse's cap and apron, and with shining eyes." 
 
 " They are shining because you are here, Richard." 
 
 Cousin Sulie, in the door, broke down and cried, 
 "Oh, we've prayed for it." 
 
 They clung to him, the two little growing-old 
 women, who had wanted him, and who had worked 
 without him. 
 
 He had no words for them, for he could not speak 
 with steadiness. But in that moment he knew that 
 he should never go back to Austin. That he should 
 live and die in the home of his fathers. And that 
 his work was here. 
 
 333
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 He tried, a little later, to make a joke of their de- 
 votion. " Mother, you and Cousin Sulie mustn't. 
 I shall need a body-guard to protect me. You'll 
 spoil me with softness and ease." 
 
 " I shall buckle on your armor soon enough," she 
 told him. " Did Eric meet you at the station ? " 
 
 " Yes, I shall go straight to Beulah's. I stopped 
 in to see old Peter before I came up. I can pull him 
 through, but I shall have to have some nurses." 
 
 And now big Ben, at an even trot, carried Richard 
 to the Playhouse. Toby, mad with gladness at the 
 return of his master, raced ahead. 
 
 Up in the pretty pink and white room lay Beulah. 
 No longer plump and blooming, but wasted and wan 
 with dry lips and hollow eyes. 
 
 Eric had said to Richard, " If she dies I shall 
 die, too." 
 
 " She is not going to die." 
 
 And now he said it again, cheerfully, to the wasted 
 figure in the bed. " I have come to make you well, 
 Beulah." 
 
 But Beulah was not at all sure that she wanted to 
 be well. She was too tired. She was tired of Eric, 
 tired of her mother, tired of taking medicine, tired 
 of having to breathe. 
 
 So she shut her eyes and turned away. 
 
 Eric sat by the bed. " Dear heart," he said, " it 
 is Dr. Dicky." 
 
 But she did not open her eyes. 
 
 334
 
 PEOPLE OF TWO WORLDS 
 
 In the days that followed Richard fought to make 
 his words come true. He felt that if Beulah died it 
 would, in some way, be his fault. He was aware 
 that this was a morbid state of mind, but he could 
 not help the way he felt. Beulah's life would be the 
 price of his self-respect. 
 
 But it was not only for Beulah's life that he fought, 
 but for the lives of others. He had nurses up from 
 Baltimore and down from New York. He had ex- 
 perts to examine wells and springs and other sources 
 of water supply. He had a motor car that he might 
 cover the miles quickly, using old Ben only for short 
 distances. Toby, adapting himself to the car, sat on 
 the front seat with the wind in his face, drunk with 
 the excitement of it. 
 
 When Nancy spoke of the expense to which Rich- 
 ard was putting himself, he said, " I have saved 
 something, mother, and Eric and the rest can pay." 
 
 Surely in those days St. Michael needed his sword, 
 for the fight was to the finish. Night and day the 
 battle waged. Richard went from bedside to bed- 
 side, coming always last to Beulah in the shadowed 
 pink and white room at the Playhouse. 
 
 There were nurses now, but Eric Brand would not 
 be turned out. " Every minute that I am away from 
 her," he told Richard, " I'm afraid. It seems as if 
 when I am in sight of her I can hold her back." 
 
 So, night after night, Richard found him in the 
 chair by Beulah's bed, his face shaded by his 
 
 335
 
 MISTRESS 4NNE 
 
 hand, rousing only when Beulah stirred, to smile at 
 her. 
 
 But Beulah did not smile back. She moaned a 
 little now and then, and sometimes talked of things 
 that never were on sea or land. There was a flow- 
 ered chintz screen in the corner of the room and she 
 peopled it with strange creatures, and murmured of 
 them now and then, until the nurse covered the 
 screen with a white sheet, which seemed to blot it 
 out of Beulah's mind forever. 
 
 There was always a pot of coffee boiling in the 
 kitchen for the young doctor, and Eric would go 
 down with him and they would drink and talk, and 
 all that Eric said led back to Beulah. 
 
 " If there was only something that I could do for 
 her," he said ; " if I could go out and work until I 
 dropped, I should feel as if I were helping. But just 
 to sit there and see her fade." 
 
 Again he said, " I had always thought of our liv- 
 ing never of dying. There can be no future for 
 me without her." 
 
 So it was for Eric's future as well as for Beulah's 
 life that Richard strove. He grew worn and weary, 
 but he never gave up. 
 
 Night after night, day after day, from house to 
 house he went, along the two roads and up into the 
 hills. Everywhere he met an anxious welcome. 
 Where the conditions were unfavorable, he trans- 
 ferred the patient to Crossroads, where Nancy and 
 
 336
 
 PEOPLE OF TWO WORLDS 
 
 Sulie and Milly and a trio of nurses formed an en- 
 thusiastic hospital staff. 
 
 The mother of little Frangois was the first patient 
 that Richard lost. She was tired and overworked, 
 and she felt that it was good to fall asleep. After- 
 ward Richard, with the little boy in his arms, went 
 out and sat where they could look over the river 
 and talk together. 
 
 " I told her that you were to stay with me, Fran- 
 gois." 
 
 " And she was glad ? " 
 
 " Yes. I need a little lad in my office, and when 
 I take the car you can ride with me." 
 
 And thus it came about that little Frangois, a 
 sober little Frangois, with a band of black about his 
 arm, became one of the Crossroads household, and 
 was made much of by the women, even by black 
 Milly, who baked cookies for him and tarts when- 
 ever he cried for his mother. 
 
 Cousin Sulie rose nobly to meet the new demands 
 upon her. " It is a feeling I never had before," she 
 said to Richard, as she helped him pack his bag be- 
 fore going on his rounds, " that what I am doing is 
 worth while. I know I should have felt it when I 
 was darning stockings, but I didn't." 
 
 She gloried in the professional aspect which she 
 gave to everything. She installed little Frangois at 
 a small table in the Garden Room. He answered 
 the telephone and wrote the messages on slips of 
 
 337
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 paper which he laid on the doctor's desk. Cousin 
 Sulie at another table saw the people who came in 
 Richard's absence. 
 
 " Nancy can read to the patients up-stairs and cut 
 flowers for them and cook nice things for them," 
 she confided, " but I like to be down here when the 
 children come in to ask for medicine, and when the 
 mothers come to find out what they shall feed the 
 convalescents. Richard, I never heard anything 
 like their hungriness when they are getting well." 
 
 Beulah, emerging slowly from among the shad- 
 ows, began to think of things to eat. She didn't 
 care about anything else. She didn't care for Eric's 
 love, or her mother's gladness, or Richard's cheer- 
 fulness, or the nurses' sympathy. She cared only 
 to think of every kind of food that she had ever 
 liked in her whole life, and to ask if she might 
 have it 
 
 " But, dear heart, the doctor doesn't think that 
 you should," Eric would protest. 
 
 She would cry, weakly, " You don't love me, or 
 you would let me." 
 
 She begged and begged, and at last he couldn't 
 stand it. 
 
 "You are starving her," he told the nurses fiercely. 
 
 They referred him to the doctor. 
 
 Eric telephoned Richard. 
 
 " My dear fellow," was the response, " her appe 
 tite is a sign that she is getting well." 
 
 338
 
 PEOPLE OF TWO WORLDS 
 
 " But she is so hungry." 
 
 " So are they all. I have to steel my heart against 
 them, especially the children. And half of the con- 
 valescents are reading cook books." 
 
 " Cook books 1 " 
 
 " Yes. In that way they get a meal by proxy. I 
 tell them to pick out the things they are going to 
 have when they are well enough to eat all they want. 
 Their choice ranges from Welsh rarebits to plum 
 puddings." 
 
 He laughed, but Eric saw nothing funny in the 
 matter. " I can't bear to see her suffer." 
 
 Richard was sobered at once. " Don't think that 
 I am not sympathetic. But Brand, I don't dare 
 feel. If I did, I should go to pieces." 
 
 Slowly the weeks passed. Besides Francois' 
 mother, two of Richard's patients died. Slowly the 
 pendulum of time swung the rest of the sick ones 
 toward recovery. Nancy and Sulie and Milly 
 changed the rooms at Crossroads back to their origi- 
 nal uses. The nurses, no longer needed, packed 
 their competent bags, and departed. Beulah at the 
 Playhouse had her first square meal, and smiled back 
 at Eric. 
 
 The strain had told fearfully on Richard. Yet he 
 persisted in his efforts long after it seemed that the 
 countryside was safe. He tried to pack into twelve 
 short weeks what he would normally have done in 
 twelve long months. He spurred his fellow physi- 
 
 339
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 cians to increased activities, he urged authorities to 
 unprecedented exertions. He did the work of two 
 men and sometimes of three. And he was so ex- 
 hausted that he felt that if ever his work was finished 
 he would sleep for a million years. 
 
 It was in September that he began to wonder how 
 he would square things up with Eve. At first she 
 had written to him blaming him for his desertion. 
 But not for a moment did she take it seriously. 
 " You'll be coming back, Dicky," was the burden of 
 her song. He wrote hurried pleasant letters which 
 were to some extent bulletins of the day's work. If 
 Eve was not satisfied she consoled herself with the 
 thought that he was tearingly busy and terribly 
 tired. 
 
 In her last letter she had said, " Austin doesn't 
 know what to do without you. He told Pip that you 
 were his right hand." 
 
 Austin had said more than that to Anne. He had 
 found her one hot day by the fountain. Nancy had 
 written to her of the death of Frangois' mother. The 
 letter was in her hand. 
 
 Austin had also had a letter. " Brooks is a fool. 
 He writes that he is going to stay." 
 
 Anne shook her head. " He is not a fool," she 
 said ; " he is doing what he had to do. You would 
 know if you had ever lived at Crossroads. Why, 
 the Brooks family belongs there, and the Brooks 
 doctors." 
 
 340
 
 PEOPLE OF TWO WORLDS 
 
 " So you have encouraged him ? " Austin said. 
 
 " I have had nothing to do with it. I haven't 
 heard from him since he left, and I haven't writ- 
 ten." 
 
 " And you think he is right to bury himself? " 
 
 Anne sat very still, her hands folded quietly. Her 
 calm eyes were on the golden fish which swam in 
 the waters at the base of the fountain. 
 
 " I am not sure," she said ; " it all has so much 
 to do with old traditions and inherited feelings 
 and ideals. He could be just as useful here, but he 
 would never be happy. You can't imagine how they 
 look up to him down there. And here he looked up 
 to you." 
 
 " Then you think I didn't give him a free hand ?" 
 
 " No. But there he is a Brooks of Crossroads. 
 And it isn't because he wants the honor of it that he 
 has gone back, but because the responsibility rests 
 upon him to make the community all that it ought 
 to be. And he can't shirk it." 
 
 " Eve Chesley says that he is tied to his mother's 
 apron strings." 
 
 "She doesn't understand. I do. I sometimes 
 feel that way about the Crossroads school as if I 
 had shirked something to have a good time." 
 
 " But you have had a good time." 
 
 " Yes, you have all been wonderful to me," her 
 smile warmed him, " but you won't think that I am 
 ungrateful when I say that there was something in 
 
 341
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 my life in the little school which carried me higher 
 than this." 
 
 " Higher ? What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I was a leader down there. And a force. The 
 children looked to me for something that I could 
 give and which the teacher they have isn't giving. 
 She just teaches books, and I tried to teach them 
 something of life, and love of country, and love of 
 God." 
 
 " But here you have Marie- Louise, and you know 
 how grateful we are for what you have done for her." 
 
 " I have only developed what was in her. What 
 a flaming little genius she is 1 " 
 
 " With a poem accepted by an important maga- 
 zine, and Fox believing that she can write more of 
 them." 
 
 Anne spoke quietly : " And now I am really not 
 needed. Marie-Louise can go on alone." 
 
 He stopped her. "We want you to stay my 
 wife wants you Marie-Louise can't do without you. 
 And I want you to get Brooks back." 
 
 She looked her amazement. " Get him back?" 
 
 " He will come if you ask it. I am not blind. 
 Eve Chesley is. The things she says make him 
 stubborn. But you could call him back. You could 
 call to life anything in any man if you willed it. 
 You are inspirational a star to light the way." 
 
 His voice was shaken. After a pause he went on : 
 " Will you help me to get Brooks back? " 
 
 342
 
 PEOPLE OF TWO WORLDS 
 
 She shook her head. " I shall not try. He is 
 among his own people. He has found his place." 
 
 Yet now that Richard was gone, Anne found her- 
 self missing him more than she dared admit. She 
 was, for the first time, aware that the knowledge that 
 she should see him now and then had kept her from 
 loneliness which might otherwise have assailed her. 
 The thought that she might meet him had added 
 zest to her engagements. His week-ends at Rose 
 Acres had been the goal toward which her thoughts 
 had raced. 
 
 And now the great house was empty because of 
 his absence. The city was empty because he had 
 left it forever. She had no hope that he would 
 come back. Crossroads had claimed him. He had, 
 indeed, come into his own. 
 
 When the rest of his friends spoke of him, praised 
 or blamed, she was silent. Geoffrey Fox, who came 
 often, complained, "You are always sitting off in a 
 corner somewhere with your work, putting in a 
 million stitches, when I want you to talk." 
 
 "You can talk to Marie-Louise. She is your 
 ardent disciple. She burns candles at your altar." 
 
 " She is a charming child." 
 
 " She is more than that. When her poem was 
 accepted she cried over the letter. She thinks that 
 she couldn't have done it except for your help and 
 criticism." 
 
 " She will do more than she has done." 
 343
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 When Marie-Louise joined them, Anne was glad 
 to see Geoffrey's protective manner, as if he wanted 
 to be nice to the child who had cried. 
 
 She had to listen to much criticism of Richard. 
 When Eve and the Dutton-Ames dined one night in 
 the early fall at Rose Acres, Richard's quixotic 
 action formed the theme of their discourse. 
 
 Eve was very frank. "Somebody ought to tie 
 Dicky down. His head is in the clouds." 
 
 Marie- Louise flashed : "I like people whose heads 
 are in the clouds. He is doing a wonderful thing 
 and a wise thing and we are all acting as if it were 
 silly." 
 
 Anne wanted to hug Marie-Louise, and with 
 heightened color she listened to Winifred's defense. 
 
 " I think we should all like to feel that we are 
 equal to it to give up money and fame for the 
 thing that called." 
 
 " There is no better or bigger work for him there 
 than here," Austin proclaimed. 
 
 *' No," Winifred agreed, and her eyes were bright, 
 " but it is because he is giving up something which 
 the rest of us value that I like him. Renunciation 
 isn't fashionable, but it is stimulating." 
 
 " The usual process is to ' grab and git,' " her 
 husband sustained her. "We always like to see 
 some one who isn't bitten by the modern bacillus." 
 
 After dinner Anne left them and made her way 
 down in the darkness to the river. The evening 
 
 344
 
 PEOPLE OF TWO WORLDS 
 
 boat was coming up, starred with lights, its big 
 search-light sweeping the shores. When it passed 
 the darkness seemed deeper. The night was cool, 
 and Anne, wrapped in a white cloak, was like a 
 ghost among the shadows. Far up on the terrace 
 she could see the big house, and hear the laughter. 
 She felt much alone. Those people were not her 
 people. Her people were of Nancy's kind, well-born 
 and well f bred, but not smart in the modern sense. 
 They were quiet folk, liking their homes, their friends, 
 their neighbors. They were not so rich that they 
 were separated by their money from those about 
 them. They had time to read and to think. They 
 were perhaps no better than the people in the big 
 house on top of the terrace, but they lived at a more 
 leisurely pace, and it seemed to her at this moment 
 that they got more out of life. 
 
 She wanted more than anything in the world to 
 be to-night with that little group at Crossroads, to 
 meet Cousin Sulie's sparkling glance, to sit at Nancy's 
 knee, to hear Richard's big laugh, as he came in and 
 found the women waiting for the news of the outside 
 world that he would bring. 
 
 She knew that she could have the little school if 
 she asked for it. But a sense of dignity restrained 
 her. She could not go back now. It would seem 
 to the world that she had followed Richard. Well, 
 her heart followed him, but the world did not know 
 that. 
 
 345
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 She heard voices. Geoffrey and Marie-Louise 
 were at the river's edge. 
 
 " It is as if there were just the two of us in 
 the whole wide world," Marie-Louise was saying. 
 " That's what I like about the darkness. It seems to 
 shut everybody out." 
 
 " But suppose the darkness followed you into the 
 day," Geoffrey said, "suppose that for you there 
 were no light?" 
 
 A rim of gold showed above the blackness of the 
 Jersey hills. 
 
 " Oh," Marie-Louise exulted, " look at the moon. 
 In a moment there will be light, and you thought 
 you were in the dark." 
 
 "You mean that it is an omen?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " What a small and comfortable person you are," 
 Geoffrey said, and now Anne could see the two of 
 them silhouetted against the brightening sky, one 
 tall and slim, the other slim and short. They walked 
 on, and she heard their voices faintly. 
 
 "Do I really make you comfortable, Geoffrey 
 Fox?" 
 
 " You make me more than that, Marie- Louise." 
 
 346
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 In Which Richard Rides Alone. 
 
 EVE." 
 " Yes, Pip." 
 
 " Can't you see that if he cared Richard would do 
 the thing that pleased you that New York would 
 be Paradise if you were in it ? " 
 
 " Why shouldn't Crossroads be Paradise to me 
 with him?" 
 
 " It couldn't be." 
 
 " I am going to make it. I talked it over last 
 night with Aunt Maude. She's an old dear. And I 
 shall be the Lady of the Manor. If Dicky won't 
 come to New York, I'll bring New York down to 
 him." 
 
 " It can't be done. And it's going to fail." 
 
 " What is going to fail ? " 
 
 " Your marriage. If you are mad enough to 
 marry Brooks." 
 
 She mused. " Pip, do you remember the fat 
 Armenian ? " 
 
 " At Coney ? Yes." 
 
 " He said that I had reached for something be- 
 yond my grasp. That my fingers would touch it, 
 but that it would soar always above me." 
 
 347
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Sounds as if Brooks were some fat sort of a bird. 
 I can't think of him as soaring. I should call him 
 the cock that crowed at Crossroads. Oh, it's all rot, 
 Eve, this idea that love makes things equal. I went 
 to the Hippodrome not long ago and saw ' Pinafore.' 
 Our fathers and mothers raved over it. But that 
 was a sentimental age, and Gilbert poked fun at 
 them. He made the simple sailor a captain in the 
 end, so that Josephine shouldn't wash dishes and 
 cook smelly things in pots and hang out the family 
 wash. But your hero balks and won't be turned 
 into a millionaire. If you were writing a book you 
 might make it work out to your satisfaction, but you 
 can't twist life to the happy ending." 
 
 " I shall try, Pip." 
 
 " In Heaven's name, Eve ! It is sheer obstinacy. 
 If everybody wanted you to marry Brooks, you'd 
 want to marry me. But because Aunt Maude and 
 Winifred and I, and a lot of others know that you 
 shouldn't, you have set your heart on it." 
 
 She flashed her eyes at him. " Is it obstinacy, 
 Pip, I wonder? Do you know I rather think I am 
 going to like it." 
 
 Her letters said something of the sort to Richard. 
 " I shall love it down there. But you must let me 
 have my own way with the house and garden. 
 Don't you think I shall make a charming chatelaine, 
 Dicky, dear?" 
 
 He had a sense of relief in her unexpected acqui- 
 348
 
 RICHARD RIDES ALONE 
 
 escence in his decision. If she had objected, he 
 would have felt as if he had turned his back not 
 only on the work that he hated but on the woman he 
 had promised to marry. It would have looked that 
 way to others. Yet no matter how it had looked, he 
 could not have done differently. The call had been 
 insistent, and the deeps of his nature been stirred. 
 
 He was thinking of it all as one morning in Octo- 
 ber he rode to the Playhouse on big Ben to see 
 Beulah. 
 
 Dismounting at the gate, he followed the path 
 which led to the kitchen. Beulah was not there, 
 and, searching, he saw her under an old apple tree 
 at the end of the garden. She wore a checked blue 
 apron, stiffly starched, and she was holding it up by 
 the corners. A black cat and three sable kittens 
 frisked at her feet. 
 
 Some one was dropping red apples carefully into 
 the apron, some one who laughed as he swung him- 
 self down and tipped Beulah's chin up with his hand 
 and kissed her. Richard felt a lump in his throat. 
 It was such a homely litde scene, but it held a mean- 
 ing that love had never held for himself and Eve. 
 
 Eric untied Beulah's apron string, and carrying 
 the apples in this improvised bag, with his arm 
 about her waist sustaining her, they came down the 
 walk. 
 
 " This is Beulah's pet tree. When she was sick 
 she asked for apples and apples and apples." 
 
 349
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 Beulah, sinking her little white teeth into a red 
 one, nodded. " It is perfectly wonderful," she said 
 when she was able to speak, " how good everything 
 tastes, and I can't get enough." 
 
 Eric pinched her cheek. " Pretty good color, doc- 
 tor. We'll have them matching the apples yet." 
 
 Richard wanted to ask Eric about the dogs. 
 " Some of my friends are coming down to-morrow 
 for the Middlefield hunt." 
 
 " If they start old Pete there'll be some sport," 
 Eric said. 
 
 " I shall be half sorry if they do," Richard told 
 him. " I am always afraid I shall lose him out of 
 my garden. He is a part of the place, like the box 
 hedge and the cedars." 
 
 He said it lightly, but he meant it He had hunt- 
 ing blood in his veins, and he loved the horses and 
 the dogs. He loved the cold crisp air, and the ex- 
 citement of the chase. But what he did not love 
 was the hunted animal, doubling on its tracks, pur- 
 sued, panting, torn to pieces by the hounds. 
 
 " Old Pete deserved to live and die among the 
 hills," Beulah said. " Is Miss Chesley coming down ? " 
 
 " Yes, and a lot of others. They will put up at 
 the club. Mother and Sulie aren't up to entertain- 
 ing a crowd." 
 
 He wanted Eric's dogs for ducks. Dutton-Ames 
 and one or two others did not ride to hounds, and 
 would come to Bower's in the morning. 
 
 350
 
 RICHARD RIDES ALONE 
 
 As he rode away, he was conscious that as soon 
 as his back was turned Eric's arm would again be 
 about Beulah, and Beulah's head would be on Eric's 
 shoulder. And that he would lift her over the thresh- 
 old as they went in. 
 
 That afternoon Richard motored over to the Coun- 
 try Club to welcome Eve. She laughed at his little 
 car. " I'd rather see you on big Ben than in that." 
 
 " Ben can't carry me fast enough." 
 
 " Don't expect me to ride in it, Dicky." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Oh, Dicky, can you ask?" 
 
 Meade's great limousine which had brought them 
 seemed to stare the little car out of countenance. 
 But Richard refused to be embarrassed by the con- 
 trast. " She's a snug little craft, and she has carried 
 me miles. What would Meade's car do on these 
 roads and in the hills ? " 
 
 Pip had come up and as the two men stood to- 
 gether Eve's quick eye contrasted them. There was 
 no doubt of Richard's shabbiness. His old riding 
 coat was much the worse for wear. He had on the 
 wrong kind of hat and the wrong kind of shoes, 
 and he seemed most aggravatingly not to care. 
 He was to ride to-morrow one of the horses which 
 had been sent down from Pip's stables. He hadn't 
 even a proper mount ! 
 
 Pip, on the' other hand, was perfectly groomed. 
 He was shining and immaculate from the top of his 
 
 35i
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 smooth head to the heel of his boots. And he wore 
 an air of gay inconsequence. It seemed to Eve 
 that Richard's shoulders positively sagged with re- 
 sponsibility. 
 
 There was a dance at the club that night. Rich- 
 ard, coming in, saw Eve in Pip's arms. They were 
 a graceful pair, and their steps matched perfectly. 
 Eve was all in white, wide-skirted, and her shoulders 
 and arms were bare. She had on gold slippers, and 
 her hair was gold. Richard had a sense of discom- 
 fort as he watched them. He was going to marry 
 her, yet she was letting Pip look at her like that. 
 His cheeks burned. What was Pip saying ? Was 
 he making love to Eve ? 
 
 He had tried to meet the situation with dignity. 
 Yet there was no dignity in Eve's willingness to let 
 Pip follow her. To speak of it would, however, seem 
 to crystallize his feeling into a complaint. 
 
 Hence when he danced with her later, he tried to 
 respond to the lightness and brightness of her mood. 
 He tried to measure up to all the requirements of 
 his position as an engaged man and as a lover. 
 But he did not find it easy. 
 
 When he reached home that night, he found little 
 Francois awake, and ready to ask questions about 
 the hunt. 
 
 " Do you think they will get him ? " he challenged 
 Richard, coming in small pink pajamas to the door 
 of the young doctor's room. 
 
 352
 
 RICHARD RIDES ALONE 
 
 "Get who?" 
 
 " Old Pete." 
 
 " He is too cunning." 
 
 " Will he come through here ? " 
 
 " Perhaps." 
 
 " I shall stick my fingers in my ears and shut my 
 eyes. Are you going to ride with them ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You won't let them kill old Pete, will you ? " 
 
 " Not if I can help it." 
 
 After that, the child was more content. But when 
 Richard was at last in bed, Francois came again 
 across the hall, and stood on the threshold in the 
 moonlight. " It would be dreadful if it was his last 
 night." 
 
 "Whose last night, Francois?" sleepily. 
 
 " Old Pete's." 
 
 " Don't worry. And you must go to bed, Fran- 
 gois." 
 
 Richard waked to a glorious morning and to the 
 hunt. Pink coats dotted the countryside. It seemed 
 as if half the world was on its way to the club. 
 Richard, as he mounted one of Pip's hunters, a 
 powerful bay, felt the thrill of it all, and when he 
 joined Eve and her party he found them in an up- 
 roarious mood. 
 
 Presently over hills streamed a picturesque pro- 
 cession the hounds in the lead, the horses following 
 with riders whose pink blazed against the green of 
 
 353
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 the pines, against the blue of the river, against the 
 fainter blue of the skies above. 
 
 And oh, the music of it, the sound of the horn, 
 the bell-like baying, the thud of flying feet ! 
 
 Then, ahead of them all, as the hounds broke into 
 full cry, a silent, swift shadow the old fox, Pete 1 
 
 At first he ran easily. He had done it so often. 
 He had thrown them off after a chase which had 
 stirred his blood. He would throw them off again. 
 
 In leisurely fashion he led them. As the morning 
 advanced, however, he found himself hard pushed. 
 He was driven from one stronghold to another. 
 Tireless, the hounds followed and followed, until at 
 last he knew himself weary, seeking sanctuary. 
 
 He came with confidence to Crossroads. Beyond 
 the garden was his den. Once within and the thing 
 would end. 
 
 Across the lawn he loped, and little Frangois, anx- 
 ious at the window, spied him. " Will he get to it, 
 will he get to it?" he said to Nancy, his small face 
 white with the fear of what might happen, "and 
 when he gets there will he be safe ? " 
 
 " Yes," she assured him ; " and when they have 
 run him aground, they will ride away." 
 
 But they did not ride away. It happened that 
 those who were in the lead were unaware of the tra- 
 dition of the country, and so they began to dig him 
 out, this old king of foxes, who had felt himself se- 
 cure in his castle ! 
 
 354
 
 RICHARD RIDES ALONE 
 
 They set the dogs at one end, and fetched mattocks 
 and spades from the stable. 
 
 Pip and Eve were among them. Pip directing, 
 Eve mad with the excitement of it all. 
 
 Little Frangois, watching, clung to Nancy. " Oh, 
 they can't, they mustn't ! " 
 
 She soothed him, and at last sent Milly out, but 
 they would not listen. 
 
 Nancy and Sulie were as white now as little Fran- 
 gois. " Oh, where is Richard ? " Nancy said. " It 
 is like murder to do a thing like that. It is bad 
 enough in the open but like a rat in a trap." 
 
 The big bay was charging down the hill with 
 Richard yelling at the top of his voice. The bay 
 had proved troublesome and had bolted in the 
 wrong direction, but Richard had brought him back 
 to Crossroads just in time ! 
 
 Frangois screamed. "It is Dr. Dicky. He'll 
 make them stop. He'll make them." 
 
 He did make them. His voice rang sharply. 
 " Get the dogs away, Meade, and stop digging." 
 
 They were too eager at first to heed him. Eve 
 hung on his arm, but he shook her off. " We don't 
 like things like that down here. Our foxes are too 
 rare." 
 
 It was a motley group which gathered later at the 
 club for the hunt breakfast. There were fox-hunting 
 farmers born on the land, of sturdy yeoman stock, 
 and careless of form. There were the lords of newly 
 
 355
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 acquired acres, who rode carefully on little saddles 
 with short stirrups in the English style. 
 
 There were the descendants of the great old plant- 
 ers, daring, immensely picturesque. There was 
 Eve's crowd, trained for the sport, and at their ease. 
 
 A big fire burned on the hearth. A copper-cov- 
 ered table held steaming dishes. Another table 
 groaned under its load of cold meats and cheese. 
 On an ancient mahogany sideboard were various 
 bottles and bowls of punch. 
 
 Old songs were sung and old stories told. Brins- 
 ley beamed on everybody with his face like a round 
 full moon. There were other round and red-faced 
 gentlemen who, warmed by the fire and the punch, 
 twinkled like unsteady old stars. 
 
 Eve was the pivotal center of all the hilarity. She 
 sat on the table and served the punch. Her coat 
 was off, and in her silk blouse and riding breeches 
 she was like a lovely boy. The men crowded around 
 her. Pip, always at her elbow, delivered an admiring 
 opinion. " No one can hold a candle to you, Eve." 
 
 Richard was out of it. He sat quietly in a corner 
 with David, old Jo at their feet, and watched the 
 others. Eve had been angry with him for his inter- 
 ference at Crossroads. " I didn't know you were a 
 molly-coddle, Dicky," she had said, " and I wanted 
 the brush." 
 
 She was punishing him now by paying absolutely 
 no attention to him. She was punishing him, too, 
 
 356
 
 RICHARD RIDES ALONE 
 
 by making herself conspicuous, which she knew he 
 hated. The scene was not to his liking. The 
 women of his household, Nancy, Sulie and Anne, 
 had had a fastidious sense of what belonged to them 
 as ladies. Eve had not that sense. As he sat there, 
 it occurred to him that things were moving to some 
 stupendous climax. He and Eve couldn't go on 
 like this. 
 
 Far up in the hills a man was in danger of bleed- 
 ing to death. He had cut himself while butchering 
 a pig. The doctor was called. 
 
 Richard, making his way through the shouting 
 and singing crowd which surrounded Eve, told her, 
 " I shall have to go for a little while. There's a man 
 hurt. I'll be back in an hour." 
 
 She looked down at him with hard eyes. " We 
 are going to ride cross-country to the Ridge. You 
 might meet us there, if you care to come." 
 
 " You know I care." 
 
 "I'm not sure. You don't show it. I I am tired 
 of never having a lover Dicky." 
 
 It was a wonderful afternoon. The heavy frost 
 had chilled the air, the leaves were red, and the sky 
 was blue and there was green and brown and gold. 
 But Richard as he rode up in the hills had no eyes 
 for the color, no ears for the song beaten out by big 
 Ben's hoofs. The vision which held him was of Eve 
 in the midst of that shouting circle. 
 
 357
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 The man who had cut himself was black. He was 
 thin and tall and his hair was gray. He had worked 
 hard all of his life, but he had never worked out of 
 himself the spirit of joyous optimism. 
 
 " I jes' tole 'um," he said, "to send for Dr. Brooks, 
 and he'd beat the devil gettin' to me." 
 
 When Richard reached the Ridge, a flash of scarlet 
 at once caught his eye. On the slope below Eve, 
 far ahead of Meade, in a mad race, was making for 
 a grove at the edge of the Crossroads boundaries. 
 She was a reckless rider, and Richard held his breath 
 as she took fences, leaped hurdles, and cleared the 
 flat wide stream. 
 
 As she came to the grove she turned and waved 
 triumphantly to Pip. For a moment she made a 
 vivid and brilliant figure in her scarlet against the 
 green. Then the little wood swallowed her up. 
 
 Pip came pounding after, and Richard, spurring 
 his big Ben to unaccustomed efforts, circled the grove 
 to meet them on the other side. 
 
 But they did not come. From the point where he 
 finally drew up he could command a view of both 
 sides of the slope. Unless they had turned back, 
 they were still in the grove. 
 
 Then out of the woods came Pip, running. He 
 had something in his arms. 
 
 "It is Eve," he said, panting ; " there was a hole 
 and her horse stumbled. I found her." 
 
 Poor honest Pip 1 As if she were his own, he 
 358
 
 RICHARD RIDES ALONE 
 
 held her now in his arms. Her golden head, swung 
 up to his shoulder, rested heavily above his heart. 
 Her eyes were shut. 
 
 Richard's practiced eye saw at once her state of 
 collapse. He jumped from his horse. " Give her to 
 me, Meade," he said, " and get somebody's car as 
 quickly as you can." 
 
 And now the tiger in Pip flashed out. "She's 
 mine," he said, breathing hoarsely. " I love her. 
 You go and get the car." 
 
 " Man," the young doctor said steadily, " this isn't 
 the time to quarrel. Lay her down, then, and let 
 me have a look at her." 
 
 He had his little case of medicines, and he hunted 
 for something to bring her back to consciousness. 
 Pip, pale and shaken, folded his coat under her 
 head and chafed her hands. 
 
 Presently life seemed to sweep through her body. 
 She shivered and moved. 
 
 Her eyes came open. " What happened ? " 
 
 " You fell from your horse. Meade found you." 
 
 There were no bones broken, but the shock had 
 been great. She lay very still and white against 
 Pip's arm. 
 
 Richard closed his medicine case and rose. He 
 stood looking down at her. 
 
 " Better, old lady ? " 
 
 " Yes, Dicky." 
 
 He spoke a little awkwardly. " I'll ride down, if 
 359
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 you don't mind, and come back for you in M cade's 
 car." His eyes did not meet hers. 
 
 As he plunged over the hill on his heavy old horse, 
 her puzzled gaze followed him. Then she gave a 
 queer little laugh. " Is he running away from me, 
 Pip?" 
 
 " I told him you were mine," the big man burst 
 out. 
 
 " You told him ? Oh, Pip, what did he say ? " 
 11 That this was not the time to talk about it." 
 She lay very still thinking it out. Then she 
 turned on his arm. " Good old Pip," she said. He 
 drew her up to him, and she said it again, with that 
 queer little laugh, " Good old Pip, you're the best 
 ever. And all this time I have been looking straight 
 over your blessed old head at Dicky." 
 
 360
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 In Which St. Michael Finds Love in a Garden. 
 
 flowers in Marie-Louise's bowl were lilacs. 
 JL And Marie-Louise, sitting up in bed, writing 
 verses, was in pale mauve. Her windows were wide 
 open, and the air from the river, laden with fra- 
 grance, swept through the room. 
 
 The big house had been closed all winter. Austin 
 had elected to spend the season in Florida, and had 
 taken all of his household with him, including Anne. 
 He had definitely retired from practice when Richard 
 left him. "I can't carry it on alone, and I don't 
 want to break in anybody else," he had said, and 
 had turned the whole thing over to one of his col- 
 leagues. 
 
 But April had brought him back to " Rose Acres " 
 in time for the lilacs, and Marie-Louise, uplifted by 
 the fact that Geoffrey Fox was at that very moment 
 finishing his book in the balcony room, had decided 
 that lilacs in the silver bowl should express the ec- 
 static state of her mind. 
 
 Anne, coming in at noon, asked, " What are you 
 writing ? "
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 " Vers libre. This is called, ' To Dr. Dicky, Din- 
 ing.'" 
 
 " What a subject, and you call it poetry ? " 
 
 "Why not? Isn't he coming to dinner for the 
 first time since he left New York, and since he 
 broke off with Eve, and since a lot of other things 
 and isn't it an important occasion, Mistress Anne ? " 
 
 Anne ignored the question. " What have you 
 written ? " 
 
 "Only the outline. He comes has caviar, and 
 his eyes are on the queen. He drinks his soup 
 and dreams. He has fish and a vision of the fu- 
 ture ; rhapsodies with the roast," she twinkled ; " do 
 you like it?" 
 
 " As far as it goes." 
 
 " It goes very far, and you know it. And you are 
 blushing." 
 
 " I am not." 
 
 " You are. Look in the glass. Mistress Anne, 
 aren't you glad that Eve is married?" 
 
 " Yes," honestly, " and that she is happy," 
 
 "Pip was made for her. I loved him at Palm 
 Beach, adoring her, didn't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." Anne's mind went back to it. The mar- 
 riage had followed immediately upon the announce- 
 ment of the broken engagement. People had pitied 
 poor young Dr. Brooks. But Anne had not. One 
 does not pity a man who, having been bound, is 
 free. 
 
 362
 
 LOVE IN A GARDEN 
 
 He had written to her a half dozen times during 
 the winter, friendly letters with news of Crossroads, 
 and now that she was again at Rose Acres, he was 
 coming up. 
 
 The spring day was bright. Rich with possibili- 
 ties. " Marie- Louise, don't stay in bed. Nobody 
 has a right to be in the house on such a day as 
 this." 
 
 But Marie-Louise wouldn't be moved. " I want 
 to finish my verses." 
 
 So Anne went out alone into the garden. It was 
 ablaze with spring bloom, the river was blue, and 
 Pan piped on his reeds. Geoffrey waved to her 
 from his balcony. She waved back, then went for a 
 walk alone. She returned to have tea on the ter- 
 race. The day seemed interminable. The hour for 
 dinner astonishingly remote. 
 
 At last, however, it was time to dress. The gown 
 that she chose was of pale rose, heavily weighted 
 with silver. It hung straight and slim. Her slip- 
 pers were of silver, and she still wore her dark hair 
 in the smooth swept-up fashion which so well be- 
 came her. 
 
 Richard, seeing her approach down the length of 
 the big drawing-room where he stood with Austin, 
 was conscious of a sense of shock. It was as if he 
 had expected that she would come to him in her old 
 blue serge, or in the little white gown with the many 
 ruffles. That she came in such elegance made her 
 
 363
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 seem alien. Like Eve. Oh, where was the Anne 
 of yesterday ? 
 
 Even when she spoke to him, when her hand was 
 in his, when she walked beside him on the way to 
 the dining-room, he had this sense of strangeness, 
 as if the girl in rose-color was not the girl of whom 
 he had dreamed through all the days since he had 
 known that he was not to marry Eve. 
 
 The winter had been a busy one for him, but sat- 
 isfying in the sense that he was at last in his right- 
 ful place. He had come into his own. He had no 
 more doubts that his work was wisely chosen. But 
 his life was as yet unfinished. To complete it, he 
 had felt that he must round out his days with the 
 woman he loved. 
 
 But now that he was here, he saw her fitted to her 
 new surroundings as a jewel fitted to a golden set- 
 ting. And she liked lovely things, she liked excite- 
 ment, and the nearness of the great metropolis. 
 There were men who had wanted to marry her. 
 Marie-Louise had told him that in a gay little letter 
 which she had sent from the South. 
 
 As he reviewed it now disconsolately, he reminded 
 himself that he had never had any real reason to 
 know that Anne cared for him. There had been a 
 flash of the eye, a few grave words, a break in her 
 voice, his answered letters ; but a woman might dole 
 out these small favors to a friend. 
 
 Thus from caviar to soup, and from soup to roast, 
 364
 
 LOVE IN A GARDEN 
 
 he contradicted Marie-Louise's conception oi his 
 state of mind. Fear and doubt, discouragement, a 
 touch of despair, these carried him as far as the salad. 
 
 And then he heard Austin's voice speaking. " So 
 you are really contented at Crossroads, Brooks ? " 
 
 " Yes. I wish you would come down and let me 
 show you some of the things I am doing. A bit 
 primitive, perhaps, in the light of your larger ex- 
 perience. But none the less effective, and inter- 
 esting." 
 
 Austin shrugged. " I can't imagine anything but 
 martyrdom in such a life for me. What do you 
 do with yourself when you are not working With 
 no theaters opera restaurants excitements ? " 
 
 " We get along rather well without them except 
 for an occasional trip to town." 
 
 " But you need such things," dogmatically ; " a 
 man can't live out of the world and not degen- 
 erate." 
 
 "He may live in it, and degenerate." Anne was 
 speaking. Her cheeks were as pink as her gown. 
 She leaned a little forward. " You don't know all 
 that they have at Crossroads, and Dr. Brooks is too 
 polite to tell you how poor New York seems to those 
 of us who know." 
 
 "Poor?" Richard had turned to her, his face 
 illumined. 
 
 " Isn't it ? Think of the things you have that 
 New York dcfesn't know of. A singing river this 
 
 365
 
 MISTRESS ANNE 
 
 river doesn't sing, or if it does nobody would have 
 time to listen. And Crossroads has a bell on its 
 school that calls to the countryside. City children 
 are not called by a bell that's why they are all 
 alike they ride on trolleys and watch the clocks. 
 My little pupils ran across the fields and down the 
 road, and hurried when I rang for them, and came 
 in rosy." 
 
 She was rosy herself as she recounted it. 
 
 " Oh, we have a lot of things the bridge with the 
 lights and the road up to the Ridge and Diogenes,, 
 Dr. Austin, you should see Diogenes." 
 
 She laughed, and they all laughed with her, but 
 back of Richard's laugh there was an emotion which 
 swept him on and up to heights beyond anything 
 that he had ever hoped or dreamed. 
 
 After that, he could hardly wait for the ending of 
 the dinner, hardly wait to get away from them all, 
 and out under the stars. 
 
 It was when they were at last alone on the steps 
 above the fountain, with the garden pouring all of 
 its fragrance down upon them, that he said, " I 
 should not have dared ask it if you had not said 
 what you said." 
 
 "Oh, St. Michael, St. Michael," she whispered, 
 " where was your courage ? " 
 
 " But in this gown, this lovely gown, you didn't 
 look like anything that I could have. I am only a 
 country doctor, Anne." 
 
 366
 
 LOVE IN A GARDEN 
 
 " Only my beloved Richard." 
 
 They clung together, these two who had found 
 Love in the garden. But they had found more than 
 Love. They had found the meaning for all that 
 Richard had done, and for all that Anne would do. 
 And that which they had found they would never 
 give up 1 
 
 30?
 
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