OP CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS AIGELES
 
 Little Lords of 
 Creation
 
 Little Lords of 
 Creation 
 
 H. A. KEAYS 
 
 HERBERT S. STONE & COMPANY 
 
 CHICAGO & NEW YORK 
 
 MDCCCC
 
 COPYRIGHT igOO BY 
 HERBERT S. STONE &. CO.
 
 TO 
 
 C. H. K. 
 
 21307R7
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 It was a boy. 
 
 And really, after he was once there, 
 it seemed impossible that they could 
 ever have faced the prospect of his 
 being anything else. That surprised 
 them a good deal when they came to 
 think of it seriously. For by the time 
 he was an hour and twenty-five min- 
 utes old, they were fully alive to the 
 fact that he might have been a girl. 
 And that would have been well, dif- 
 ferent. It was wonderful what a nar- 
 row escape they had had. And they 
 were his parents. That was the most 
 extraordinary thing about it all.
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 There was suddenly a new and ex- 
 quisite dignity in themselves of which 
 they had never dreamed before. Years 
 of feeling separated them from the 
 yesterday when there was no link be- 
 tween themselves and 'posterity. 
 
 By the time the baby had owned 
 them for two hours, they had devel- 
 oped a profound pity, which was peril- 
 ously like contempt, for all the un- 
 happy beings who had no babies. 
 
 To be sure, in their secret hearts 
 they were a good deal surprised at his 
 looks, for he certainly was not the 
 infant Adonis they had every right to 
 expect their child to be. Any man 
 caught loose on the streets with such 
 a complexion would undoubtedly have 
 been considered "beery." And he 
 had discovered how to make the most 
 frightful faces. His mother grew quite 
 anxious about it. At last she plucked 
 up courage to say cautiously to her
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 husband, "Do they all look like that, 
 Douglas?" 
 
 "I don't know, I'm sure," replied 
 the young man, thoughtfully. "I 
 never saw them before." 
 
 "Well, I don't think it will do to 
 let him keep on wrinkling up his face 
 like that. A tendency is almost cer- 
 tain to develop into a fixed habit un- 
 less it is checked in time, you know, 
 Douglas." 
 
 "I should think it might be due to 
 the unaccustomed action of the air on 
 his skin," said Mr. Bell. "He'll 
 probably conquer that himself. But 
 we can ask Mrs. Coddle about his 
 looks." 
 
 "Like most other babies? Well, I 
 should say not!" declared Mrs. Cod- 
 dle, with an emphasis which terrified 
 her innocent hearers; and then, quite 
 unaware of the effect she was creating, 
 the good woman paused long enough 
 3
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 to stick nearly a whole paper of safety- 
 pins all over the baby before she went 
 on. 
 
 "He's just about as much like 'em, 
 / should say, as chalk's like cheese." 
 
 She meant to say a good deal more, 
 but the baby, who had not yet recov- 
 ered from his surprise and delight at 
 finding himself the owner of a voice, 
 began to exercise it powerfully. 
 
 "There now! Just listen to them 
 bellus!" said Mrs. Coddle, enthusias- 
 tically, between the gusts. 
 
 But after Mrs. Bell had listened to 
 them for an hour or two, she sent to 
 the study for her husband, who had 
 been snatching a nap there and dream- 
 ing that ten thousand bands were play- 
 ing the same tune over his grave, 
 each in a different key. 
 
 "What do you think about it, 
 Douglas?" she asked, tearfully. 
 
 "Perhaps he's hungry!" exclaimed 
 4
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 his father, brilliantly, after some mo- 
 ments of serious thought. 
 
 "Oh, no! He really isn't," said 
 Mrs. Bell, earnestly. "He won't be 
 hungry let me see for eleven min- 
 utes yet. All the books insist you 
 must not feed him too often. You 
 know we must begin right with him, 
 Douglas. All his future life depends 
 on the training we give him now. 
 No, don't rock him or hush him, Mrs. 
 Coddle. Why, one book says the 
 smallest babe is so sensitive to the 
 power of mind and environment, that 
 he acts just as the people about him 
 make him act." 
 
 " Fiddlesticks!" remarked Mrs. 
 Coddle, cheerfully. "I'll warrant the 
 person that wrote that never lived 
 under the same roof with a live boy, 
 or he'd never have called him a babe. 
 A boy ain't a babe, nor yet some 
 girls." 
 
 5
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 About noon, Deacon Creak, driving 
 back to his farm from town, stopped 
 to consult his pastor about some 
 church matters. As he was leaving, 
 he remarked mildly: 
 
 '^Child cries some." 
 
 "Some!" exclaimed Mr. Bell. 
 
 That remark rankled in his mind 
 after the deacon was gone. It seemed 
 to imply that a child could cry more. 
 It opened up fearful vistas of possi- 
 bility. 
 
 It was winter, and the house had 
 double windows, but that did not pre- 
 vent the nearest neighbor, who lived 
 half a block away, from coming in 
 some hours later, to say that she'd 
 ''like to see the child she couldn't 
 quiet." 
 
 She went away after awhile, though, 
 with every symptom of nervous pros- 
 tration, but before she went she re- 
 membered to say: "I wouldn't let 
 6
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 him cry like that if I were you. He'll 
 injure himself." 
 
 Then Mr. Bell went for the doctor. 
 It was growing dark and stormy, and 
 the old gentleman was quite unwilling 
 to go out just because a boy cried, 
 but Mr. Bell put the case to him 
 strongly. This was all the more try- 
 ing, for when they reached the house, 
 a mile and a half away, Mrs. Coddle 
 met them at the door with her finger 
 on her lip. 
 
 "He's just this minute fallen 
 asleep," she whispered, reassuringly; 
 "but I think you'd better leave some- 
 thing to quiet Mrs. Bell's nerves, Doc- 
 tor." 
 
 After this, whenever they sent for 
 him, which was sometimes once and 
 sometimes two or three times a day, 
 the doctor was always either out or 
 just going out to a farm ten miles 
 west of town, or else he couldn't go 
 7
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 out at all on account of an imminent 
 case right in the neighborhood, or he 
 had just gone to bed with a frightful 
 chill. But, as may be inferred, he 
 was a resourceful man, and a sleeping- 
 partner in the drugstore, and he 
 always had something to recommend, 
 something that would certainly cure 
 the baby now, if they didn't overfeed 
 him. 
 
 "But I just suppose you keep him 
 stuffed full all the time," he remarked, 
 tartly, to Mr. Bell. "I warrant you, 
 the chap hasn't got room to turn but 
 what the cork comes out." 
 
 "But it's only milk," remonstrated 
 Mr. Bell. 
 
 "Only milk!" The doctor glared 
 at him. Then he looked solemn. 
 
 "I tell you, my good sir, milk's 
 quite dangerous enough for a boy that 
 was born with an undeveloped stom- 
 ach." 
 
 8
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "An undeveloped stomach! I 
 don't believe it," retorted Mr. Bell, 
 hotly. "Mrs. Coddle says he's the 
 finest boy she ever saw." 
 
 "Oh, of course. But it's true, 
 what I say, just the same. Go home 
 and think about it." There was a 
 twinkle in the doctor's eye, but Mr. 
 Bell was too much wrought up now to 
 see such a little thing as that. 
 
 He hurried home to Mrs. Bell, and 
 broke it to her gently. 
 
 It seemed to them both a fearful 
 thing, and they spent hours indignantly 
 repelling the suggestion, until Mrs. 
 Bell exclaimed, triumphantly: 
 
 "Why, it just can't be true, Doug- 
 las. Of course it can't. Why, if it 
 was, he never could cry like he does." 
 
 Mr. Bell looked a little as if he failed 
 to grasp the point. 
 
 "Don't you see, dear?" continued 
 his wife, urgently. "Those deep, low 
 9
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 notes in his voice he must have 
 plenty of of stomach to do them, 
 I'm sure." 
 
 "You dear Betty!" said her hus- 
 band, tenderly; and there the matter 
 dropped, for the baby inadvertently 
 fell asleep, though it was only 2 A.M., 
 and his parents actually forgot what 
 they had been staying awake for. 
 
 By this time their house resembled 
 a drugstore. They had never intended 
 their child to be corrupted by medicine, 
 believing firmly that Nature was the 
 great physician, but in moments of 
 frenzy they flew in the face of theory. 
 They started out, or rather in, with 
 lime-water. Then they tried catnip, 
 and peppermint, and aniseed, and 
 steeped caraway-seeds. They began 
 with the remedies singly; then they 
 took them in groups, and there were 
 even fearful moments when they 
 emptied them all into him at once.
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 They rolled him up in compresses 
 until he was as tight and hollow as a 
 drum. But he escaped with his life, 
 and his lungs. Then they undid 
 him, and sat him in hot water up to 
 his chin, while they poured a pint of 
 it down his throat. 
 
 And still he wept, real tears, which 
 mingled with the flood within and 
 without. 
 
 Then finally, in a fit of utter desper- 
 ation, they threw their morals to the 
 winds, and varnished him inside, and 
 massaged him outside, with whisky. 
 
 "It does seem to me," said Mr. 
 Bell, rather doubtfully, "that an un- 
 suspecting person might think we were 
 trying to murder him." 
 
 "But, Douglas, a normal baby 
 never cries. They just sleep and eat. 
 He's abnormal, and something's got 
 to be done about it." 
 
 "Yes, I dare say. But I've really
 
 Little Lords of Creation . 
 
 wondered sometimes whether he 
 wouldn't get more comfort out of his 
 crying, if we didn't interfere with it 
 quite so much." 
 
 Yet, after all, he didn't cry all the 
 time there was. There were moments 
 in his loud existence when he forgot 
 his lungs moments of mutual ecstasy 
 for his parents, when he was simply 
 adorable, and "goo'd" and "gaa'd" 
 enchantingly, and smiled oh, yes! 
 really smiled right at his mother. 
 
 They never referred now to the time 
 when they had thought him well, 
 not exactly handsome. He had such 
 lovely blue-gray eyes, and his nose 
 had been Roman from the start, any- 
 way. He was the only baby like him- 
 self in town, and they felt truly sorry 
 for all the other people whose babies 
 had pug noses, wobbly eyes, and a 
 general air of mental vacancy. 
 
 "Just listen, Douglas!" exclaimed
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bell one evening about ten 
 o'clock, when her husband came in 
 from prayer-meeting. "It's really 
 remarkable. I feel sure he's going to 
 talk very young. You'd just think 
 he'd been practicing vowel sounds the 
 whole evening." 
 
 They went in, and worshiped at his 
 shrine becomingly; but in the chill 
 night watches when prolonged and 
 vigorous exercise is apt to pall upon 
 the frame, Mr. Bell said, in a tone 
 which bordered on irreverence: 
 
 "I must say, Betty, I think he's 
 kind of overdoing this thing. I wish 
 he'd give the vowels and me a rest, or 
 at any rate, tune up on the consonants 
 for a change." 
 
 But, of course, the baby, who no 
 doubt felt himself charged \vith the 
 training and development of these two 
 very young people, kept up the game, 
 from pure love of the sport apparently,
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 until it was nearly breakfast- time, 
 when he refreshed himself with a brief 
 but hearty nap. And then he began 
 again. 
 
 "You see, dear, it's like this," 
 said Mrs. Bell, cleverly getting in a 
 little rush of words whenever there 
 was a momentary gap in the volume 
 of sound on her lap. "Our child has 
 evidently got a very intense na ture 
 that's how he can get along with so 
 little sleep, for for whenever he does 
 slee p he sleeps all o ver, you know, 
 just like a per feet human being 
 should ; he throws his whole na ture 
 into whatever he's doing." 
 
 "I wouldn't mind that, Betty, if he 
 didn't insist upon throwing mine in, 
 too," said Mr. Bell, gloomily. And 
 then they both laughed, which was a 
 mistake, for the baby interpreted it as 
 a rivalry of his efforts, and strength- 
 ened his note accordingly. 
 H
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 By nature and training Mrs. Bell was 
 both religious and clean, but after the 
 advent of this boy with his vocal outfit 
 she hardly ever got a chance to say 
 more than half a prayer at a time, or 
 to take more than a third of a bath at 
 a sitting, for against godliness and 
 cleanliness the baby had equally strong 
 conscientious scruples, it seemed. 
 
 "I'm sure it must be weeks since I 
 washed my left foot," she sighed in 
 despair at last. "I always forget and 
 begin with my right, and he seems to 
 know by instinct just when I've fin- 
 ished it. You'd think he was dying." 
 
 Before her marriage Mrs. Bell had 
 been an adept in all the wisdom of the 
 moderns on the subject of "child cul- 
 ture." She was confident then that 
 she had an exact formula for the de- 
 velopment of their little angel-seed 
 souls into beatific efflorescence. She 
 had written an article entitled "A 
 15
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Little Child Shall Lead Them," which 
 had been widely commented upon, with 
 unanimous praise for its remarkable 
 insight into the "child spirit." She 
 remembered it sometimes now, but 
 without joy, for her actual experience 
 with a child in the raw concrete had 
 led her to some conclusions of which 
 the article in question had been strik- 
 ingly innocent. Oh, yes! her little 
 Laurie "led" them, but certainly not 
 along the route she had in mind when 
 her facile pen sketched so glowingly 
 the spiritual heights up which rushed 
 the teacher and the parent in the train 
 of the pedagogical child. 
 
 Still, perhaps, it was just as well 
 that she had gained glory by writing it 
 when she was sure she knew all about 
 it ; she would never be in a position to 
 dogmatize again. 
 
 Undoubtedly, if the Bells could 
 have planned it, there would have 
 16
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 been a calmer, a less vociferating 
 infancy for the race. They were some- 
 times driven to compare babies and 
 kittens in a way which would have 
 gratified the kittens and grieved the 
 baby, if he could have heard them, 
 which was quite impossible in the din 
 behind which he protected himself. 
 
 It was in the shrieking watches of 
 the night that Mrs. Bell first began to 
 be haunted by the awful thought of 
 heredity. 
 
 "I suppose you don't know anything 
 about having a criminal on your side 
 of the family, Douglas?" she ventured 
 timidly, at last. 
 
 "A criminal, Betty! What in mis- 
 chief do you mean?" demanded the 
 astonished young minister. 
 
 "Oh, I don't know, I'm sure!" she 
 
 sobbed hysterically; "but it seems as 
 
 if there must be something to account 
 
 for all for all this, Douglas. I've 
 
 '7
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 written to Aunt Lucinda to look up 
 my side of the family, and I couldn't 
 help wondering about yours. You 
 see, dear, there aren't any babies like 
 ours in the books, and everybody who 
 comes here says their children never 
 cried unless they had pins sticking into 
 them, and that they never had to be 
 up with them at night. I wouldn't 
 dare tell that we're up every night 
 nearly all night with baby." 
 
 "Hah! Then I guess Mrs. Puffit's 
 baby must have been stuck jam-full of 
 pins the day I called there. I had to 
 talk to her in pantomime, because of her 
 angelic youngster's solid and everlast- 
 ing and forward-and-back-action yell." 
 
 Mrs. Bell looked thoughtful. 
 "That's so," she said, more cheer- 
 fully. "Yet when that woman was 
 here last week, she said her offspring 
 never wept, because they all inherited 
 such beautiful dispositions." 
 
 18
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Yes, I'm sure they do!" retorted 
 Mr. Bell, in a fiercely negative tone. 
 "You've only got to know Papa and 
 Mamma PurBt well to be sure of the 
 mild accuracy of that statement. But 
 I tell you, Betty, I'm proud to own 
 my boy, bawl and all." 
 
 But one morning soon after this they 
 thought the end of "bawl and all" 
 had certainly come. About six 
 o'clock Mrs. Bell took the baby out of 
 the crib, which, of course, he always 
 occupied theoretically, and brought 
 him in with her. He became at once 
 so strangely, sweetly silent that she 
 fell into a blessed sleep, from which 
 she was suddenly awakened by a sense 
 of vacancy beside her and a soft thud 
 on the floor. 
 
 "Douglas," she gasped, in a voice 
 almost paralyzed by terror, "he's gone ! 
 Get him!" 
 
 "Where?" shouted Mr. Bell, excit- 
 19
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 edly. "Get the landing-net, Betty. 
 Get the landing-net quick!" 
 
 For he had just been dreaming that 
 he had caught a black bass so large 
 that it had to be anchored fore and 
 aft, from one side of the lake to the 
 other. Naturally, at Mrs. Bell's 
 scream he concluded the bass had 
 escaped from its moorings. 
 
 "No, no, the baby!" wailed Mrs. 
 Bell, burying her head in the bed- 
 clothes. She knew he was dead by 
 this time. 
 
 Mr. Bell sprang up. But when he 
 reached, at a bound, the other side of 
 the bed, there was no baby there. 
 
 "Oh, Betty!" he murmured, with a 
 prescient groan, as he vainly trie,d to 
 brace himself for what must be. 
 
 But lo! at that moment there issued 
 from beneath the bed a gurgling 
 "vowel-sound," and looking there he 
 beheld the baby peacefully reposing 
 
 20
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 on his spine, and gazing with apparent 
 ecstasy at the shining springs above 
 him. 
 
 After this they concluded that he 
 was not as perishable an article as they 
 had supposed, and Mr. Bell encoun- 
 tered a certain difficulty in refusing to 
 hold the darling, on the plea that he 
 was feeling "nervous," and would be 
 sure to let him fall and break. 
 
 The Bells had only been settled in 
 Sand Harbor about a month before the 
 baby made their acquaintance, and 
 naturally enough the people of the 
 little town were very much interested 
 in their new pastor and his wife, and 
 everything that was his, and soon the 
 baby furnished a phenomenal theme 
 for the sewing society, and gossip 
 about his antics even bulged out at 
 the missionary meeting in elusive 
 whispers. 
 
 Then the sisters began to call on
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bell, singly and in squads, and 
 they brought their advice with them. 
 Mrs. Netley was sure he was teething. 
 Why, her second cousin's sister-in-law 
 had a baby who was born with a tooth. 
 From that fact it was perfectly rational 
 to deduce the theory that Baby Bell 
 was cutting his now. But on the other 
 hand, Mrs. Pringle was certain it was 
 not his teeth at all. 
 
 "That kind always cries till the day 
 they're three months old. It's a waste 
 of time and money trying to stop 'em. 
 You just wait. The day he's three 
 months old he'll shut up tight's if he 
 was corked. That's if he lives, of 
 course. Some can't keep it up that 
 long." 
 
 "Oh, no! It isn't his age. I know 
 exactly what's the matter with your 
 poor precious," sighed Mrs. De Lent. 
 "It's his little nerves, Mrs. Bell. 
 Neurasthenia, that's it. Neurasthe-
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 nia." Her tongue tenderly caressed 
 the word. She was very proud of it. 
 She wondered if Mrs. Bell had ever 
 heard it before. 
 
 "I suppose you've never suffered 
 from neurasthenia, Mrs. Bell?" 
 
 "No," said Mrs. Bell, very shortly. 
 
 "Now really! Well, my doctor said 
 it only attacked the most sensitive, 
 high-strung natures. But I dare say 
 your dear baby inherits his predisposi- 
 tion to it from his father. I just ad- 
 mire Mr. Bell, you know, Mrs. Bell. 
 He's so spiritual. So lofty." 
 
 "Yes. Six feet in his stockings," 
 said Mrs. Bell, cruelly. 
 
 "Now, is he? Well, I was always 
 very fond of a tall man. ' ' Mr. De Lent 
 was very short. "But about the neu- 
 rasthenia. You see, I know just how 
 it is to feel exactly as your baby acts. 
 Oh, I assure you, I had to exercise the 
 most rigid self-control to keep myself 
 23
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 from screaming. But you couldn't 
 expect that in a little sweetsy-tweet, 
 could you, now?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Mrs. Bell, 
 stubbornly. 
 
 "Oh, no! You really couldn't." 
 Mrs. De Lent looked profound. "I 
 tried the Rest Cure. It saved me. 
 But it's awfully expensive. Because 
 there isn't any treatment, you know. 
 You just go there and keep still. I 
 don't know, though, whether they 
 take infants. But you could find out, 
 couldn't you? I'll send you the ad- 
 dress." 
 
 As she Jose to go, after a call pro- 
 longed until Mrs. Bell wondered how 
 soon it would be before she burst into 
 tears and joined in the baby's distant 
 howls herself, Mrs. De Lent said, 
 earnestly : 
 
 "And whatever you do, my dear
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bell, don't feed him meat, 
 especially pork. ' ' 
 
 "Meat?" 
 
 "Yes, meat. It is the root of all 
 the sin and suffering in the world. 
 Now there is my husband. While I 
 was away he boarded with a carnivo- 
 rous family, and in spite of all the 
 injunctions I had given him, he gave 
 way to temptation, and ate it freely, I 
 know. Of course, it has all settled 
 solidly in the tendrils of his feet, and 
 he is suffering agonies from what he 
 obstinately calls rheumatism. I tell 
 him he should be honest enough to 
 call it cannibalism. You know, I'm 
 very much inclined to be theosophical 
 myself, and there's the transmigration 
 of souls and all that. You see, we 
 really don't know who the sheep and 
 the cows and the pigs may actually be. 
 Why, it's an awful thought."
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ' 'Douglas," said Mrs. Bell, solemnly, 
 to her husband at the supper-table, 
 " pause before you eat that pork. 
 Mrs. De Lent says it may be Shake- 
 speare, or the Queen of Sheba. " 
 
 26
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 "Douglas, who do you think's been 
 here now," exclaimed Mrs. Bell, 
 breathlessly, one afternoon as her hus- 
 band came in after a round of calling. 
 He looked gloomy, and she supposed 
 that he must have met some of the 
 saints who considered it their mission 
 in life to point out faithfully to their 
 pastor his many and varied short- 
 comings. 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Bradney. And she 
 was perfectly lovely. You can't think 
 what she said about you that you're 
 so clever, and I must be so proud of 
 you. Oh, heaps of nice things, dear." 
 
 Mr. Bell brightened. For, after all, 
 if he could please Mrs. Bradney, the 
 personage of whom it was commonly 
 27
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 said that when she snuffed all Sand 
 Harbor sneezed, why, it didn't much 
 matter if Mrs. Hopley did announce 
 with an air of finality that she hadn't 
 any use for "such broken and empty 
 vessels as poor human intellex in the 
 pulpit, Mr. Bell. Now, if what you 
 preached at us three weeks ago last 
 Sunday wasn't Universal Salvation, 
 Mr. Bell, then I don't know what 
 Universal Salvation is. And Mr. 
 Hopley said to me, as we walked home 
 after that sermon, 'Maria, there's no 
 hope for the world without hell. 
 Why, if I didn't believe in eternal 
 punishment, I'd like to know what 
 there'd be to keep me from just going 
 in to have a real good time, like the 
 rest of the fellows, right off.' 
 
 "Oh, there would always be Maria," 
 was the retort which ached for utter- 
 ance on Mr. Bell's lips, but he pru- 
 dently repressed it, and patiently 
 28
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 resigned himself to a prolonged disser- 
 tation on the remarkable mental outfits 
 with which it had pleased Providence 
 to endow the Hopley children. 
 
 Mr. Bradney had owned the 
 "Mills," and the "Mills" had been 
 Sand Harbor's only logical excuse for 
 being, and though after his death his 
 wife had disposed of the business and 
 lapsed into a lessening interest in the 
 town, with its increasing swarm of 
 strange faces, she retained her proud 
 place in its traditions, and to be 
 "known" by Mrs. Bradney was still 
 its most coveted social distinction. 
 
 "Oh, I suppose we looked just like 
 'Dignity and Impudence,' "' continued 
 Mrs. Bell, "for she's tall and stately, 
 and her eyes whew! they screw into 
 you like gimlets. But her hair's 
 lovely, soft and white, like spun snow." 
 
 "Now, Betty" 
 
 "Oh, I know, Douglas. You 
 29
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 haven't the least imagination, dear. 
 But you know what I look like, any- 
 way, a kind of Japanese chipmunk in 
 petticoats. But I made up my mind 
 I wasn't going to be scared by her, so 
 I thought I'd pretend she was the 
 scared one, and after that we got along 
 beautifully. But what do you think 
 she says, Douglas?" Mrs. Bell's voice 
 became portentous. "She says the 
 baby's hungry. Hungry! Just think 
 of that!" 
 
 "Well, then, Betty, let's feed him," 
 exclaimed Mr. Bell, impulsively. 
 
 Mrs. Bell looked at her husband 
 reproachfully. "Oh, yes, Douglas, 
 that sounds easy. But I can just tell 
 you this: if we do feed him, it means 
 giving up the last principle I've stuck 
 to all the way through. I told Mrs. 
 Bradney I didn't see how he could be 
 hungry, for the only rule that I hadn't 
 broken was that I always fed him by 
 3
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 the clock." A half-smile crossed Mrs. 
 Bell's face. "She said she'd have 
 more confidence in a bottle herself." 
 
 "A bottle!" 
 
 "Why, of course, Douglas." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know about that, 
 Betty." 
 
 "Well, I thought you were in pretty 
 much of a hurry just now to express 
 yourself. You see now what it means. 
 Still, Douglas, she said she lost her 
 eldest boy just like like this." 
 
 Of course that settled it, and in a 
 very little while Mr. Bell was hurrying 
 down town after the implements of 
 nutrition. 
 
 It being his first purchase in that 
 particular line, he was naturally anxious 
 to shine in the transaction, and accord- 
 ingly he bought the most expensive 
 and most dexterously complicated 
 bottle known to the trade. He found 
 out later that you could do almost any- 
 3 1
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 thing with it, except feed the baby 
 that is, if you or the baby were in a 
 hurry about it. For after you had 
 once got the food into it, it was neces- 
 sary to make arrangements to get it 
 out again. 
 
 And that was just where the pat- 
 ent self-adjusting cap made a fool of 
 you. 
 
 Mr. Bell said a great many things 
 that evening which sounded orthodox 
 enough to be in a Middle-Aged ser- 
 mon on the eternal destiny of the 
 wicked, and yet his strong statements 
 of these grand old truths seemed to 
 scandalize his wife. 
 
 "Douglas, the deacons," she sug- 
 gested once, by way of remonstrance. 
 
 "Hang the deacons," retorted he, 
 recklessly. But it was an hour and 
 ten minutes after the bottle first came 
 into the house before they finally suc- 
 ceeded in inducing that patent self- 
 32
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 adjusting cap to let them adjust it. 
 And then Mrs. Bell, who secretly 
 hated the horrid thing which was going 
 to steal her rights from her, flew 
 moaning to the garret with a towel 
 over her head. But she only stayed 
 there one minute, after all, and then 
 nearly fell down the two flights of stairs 
 in her anxiety to find out what "he 
 did do with it, anyway." 
 
 There was a while of awful suspense 
 as Baby Bell sampled the new arrange- 
 ment with various expressions of de- 
 rision and contempt, which alternately 
 delighted and depressed Mrs. Bell; 
 but at last he evidently made up his 
 mind that he had got on to a good 
 thing, and had better stick to it. And 
 he actually fell asleep before ten 
 o'clock, with a bland and beatific smile 
 upon his cheeks, but from sheer force 
 of habit his parents watched him on 
 tip-toe for some hours, as charily as if 
 33
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 he were a dynamite bomb warranted 
 to explode on sight. 
 
 And now began a new era a bot- 
 tle era in the Bell household. For 
 after a while the baby formulated a 
 theory on the subject of bottles which 
 showed him to be an early convert to 
 the views of certain social economists 
 along the same lines. The child was 
 plainly of a philanthropic turn of 
 mind, and knew instinctively what was 
 to the interest of the workingman. 
 And so he promptly smashed his bot- 
 tles as soon as they went dry. 
 
 But Mrs. Bell, who was an econo- 
 mist of the domestic variety, which is 
 quite another thing, saw the matter in 
 a very different light, and Mr. Bell 
 grew weary of furnishing a joke to the 
 drugstore. Then one day a most 
 brilliant idea occurred to Mrs. Bell. 
 Why, there were all those piles of bot- 
 tles in the cellar. She was astonished 
 34
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 at her stupidity in never having 
 thought of them before. Surely, with 
 a little adjustment they would serve 
 baby's purpose admirably. 
 
 She laughed a good deal at his ap- 
 pearance when she set him out in the 
 warm sunshine in his carriage, half an 
 hour later, but as long as he enjoyed 
 the big black bottle, what did it mat- 
 ter? Then she went back to the 
 kitchen, and carefully cleaned and 
 scalded six. others of the same kind, so 
 as to have them ready for emergencies. 
 "I can't think why those people had 
 so many bottles," she said, innocently, 
 referring to the former tenants of the 
 house. "And they seem so clean, 
 and don't smell of anything; but I 
 had better give them a good airing, 
 and make sure." 
 
 She hunted about, but she could 
 not find any place to put them, except 
 the end of the front veranda, where 
 35
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 the sun shone strongly now; and 
 though she felt a little doubtful about 
 it, she soon concluded that it would 
 be all right, for it was such a quiet 
 street, with hardly anybody passing 
 but the farmers on their way into town. 
 She did long to call Mr. Bell to look 
 at the baby, lying there clasping that 
 huge thing with both hands, but she 
 must not do that, for she knew he was 
 putting the last ornamental touches 
 on the great sermon he was to preach 
 to-morrow in a neighboring town, 
 with whose pastor he was to exchange 
 pulpits. 
 
 But in spite of his feverish absorption 
 in his subject, Mr. Bell, whose study 
 table was close to the window, could 
 not ultimately avoid becoming con- 
 scious that everybody who passed his 
 house stopped and stared as if some- 
 thing were the matter with it. He 
 thought at once that the kitchen chim- 
 36
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ney must be on fire. But no, it could 
 not be that, for while some people 
 shook their heads gravely, most of 
 them walked past grinning. 
 
 Well, he could not stop to inves- 
 tigate the matter now, for he had 
 spent more time over his sermon than 
 he had supposed, and he saw with 
 alarm that he had barely time to catch 
 his train. He gathered up his papers 
 and a few books, hastily rammed 
 them into his valise, and bounced 
 downstairs. Mrs. Bell met him in the 
 hall. He had never seen her so cheer- 
 ful before when he was going away. 
 
 "Oh, Douglas, do come and see! 
 Isn't it lovely? Did you ever see him 
 look so sweet? Isn't it ridiculous?" 
 
 He looked out. There in the gay 
 sunshine lay that baby, with a fat, 
 boozy smile on his face, lazily imbibing 
 his means of existence through a beer- 
 bottle yes, a beer-bottle. 
 37
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Isn't it a good idea, dear? Such 
 nice bottles, and lots of them." 
 
 "Yes. No. I can't tell. I mean, 
 I think so, but I hope not," answered 
 Mr. Bell, very much at random, it 
 seemed to his wife. "Be sure you 
 explain, Betty." 
 
 And then he rushed away, provi- 
 dentially unobservant of the six other 
 bottles boldly reposing on their sides 
 in the eyes of all beholders. 
 
 But in an incredibly short space of 
 time all Sand Harbor was talking about 
 that baby and the beer-bottles. For 
 Deacon Creak, driving into town, saw 
 the whole thing with his own eyes 
 and his wife's and casually mentioned 
 it to Deacon Pringle, who was a man 
 of convictions, and worshiped a cold- 
 water God ; and before Deacon Creak, 
 who was a mild-eyed, meek-voiced 
 man, could at all comprehend what 
 was happening, he found himself the 
 38
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 center of an interested throng in the 
 grocery, and under Brother Pringle's 
 masterly cross-examination, committed 
 to statements which afterwards ap- 
 palled him. 
 
 "That baby yes, a child of the 
 covenant we are told, you know, to 
 avoid the appearance of evil." Here 
 he paused a moment, but under Dea- 
 con Pringle's compelling eye, he 
 straightened his spine aggressively, as 
 if to assure everybody and himself 
 that it was not built of melted butter. 
 "We regret to have discovered, sir, 
 that that that the offspring of our 
 our pastor, which they vowed vowed 
 before us all, us all, to love, honor, and 
 obey, as it were, in the fear and ad- 
 monition of the Lord " A sup- 
 pressed giggle distracted him just as 
 he had felt himself on firm ground and 
 doing beautifully. "Well, our off- 
 spring no, your offspring, I mean" 
 39
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 he fixed his soft blue eyes on Deacon 
 Pringle, who shook his head at him 
 violently "has been been " 
 
 "Drinking!" broke in Deacon 
 Pringle, heavily. 
 
 "Guzzling!" he added, after an 
 awful pause. 
 
 "Beer!" 
 
 Just as he might have said ' ' Blood ! ' ' 
 
 "Beer?" exclaimed Mr. Inskip, in 
 horror. 
 
 "Beer!" repeated Deacon Creak, 
 doubtfully. "Oh, Brother Pringle, I 
 don't think " 
 
 "Well, do you know what I think?" 
 
 It was a cool, jibing voice from the 
 edge of the little gathering, and every- 
 body turned to look at Vandelia Crane, 
 Mrs. Bradney's domestic factotum. 
 
 "I think I'd just as soon be waited 
 on as not, Mr. Pringle, if you can con- 
 veniently part with a little of your 
 valuable time." 
 
 4 o
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mr. Pringle slipped unctuously be- 
 hind his counter. 
 
 "Yes, yes, Miss Crane; certainly, 
 certainly, with the greatest pleasure, 
 Miss Crane." He leaned towards her 
 confidentially. "These country peo- 
 ple, you know, they like their bit of 
 talk when they come into town, and a 
 storekeeper's got to humor them, you 
 know, Miss Crane. Still, if what they 
 say is so and I don't see how it could 
 be, only for Deacon Creak's word 
 that child was actually discovered in a 
 drunken stupor, with one bottle of 
 distilled damnation at his lips and six 
 empty ones at his side." 
 
 Vandelia Crane threw back her head 
 and laughed. "Say, don't you think 
 you're a pretty shoddy saint?" she 
 said, as she picked up her purchase. 
 "If I were you, I wouldn't repeat that 
 story till I'd investigated it some fur- 
 ther. It might hurt trade. Mrs. 
 41
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Bradney says that young preacher of 
 yours is smarter than greased light- 
 ning." 
 
 And after that nobody outdid the 
 subtle grocer in pain and astonish- 
 ment at Deacon Creak's statements 
 those astonishing statements which the 
 poor addle-minded old man sorrowfully 
 acknowledged as his own because Mr. 
 Pringle had such abundant proof that 
 they were. 
 
 But among his cronies Mr. Pringle 
 continued to relate the story so often 
 and with such intangible intricacies of 
 meaning that there are still people 
 who could not be persuaded to aban- 
 don their belief in the minister's intox- 
 icated baby and the.half-dozen of beer.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The summer waxed and waned, and 
 in the fall the Bells found themselves 
 confronted with the problem of an- 
 other winter in a house on the ragged 
 edge of the wrong side of Sand Harbor. 
 
 "If it were only a mile and a half 
 on the other side, it wouldn't matter 
 so much," said Mrs. Bell, with a sigh. 
 "So few of our people live out this 
 way. Just think! We're three miles 
 from Mrs. Bradney, and after all, 
 Douglas, you know I like her better 
 than anybody else in Sand Harbor." 
 
 Mr. Bell smiled. "I daresay, Betty. 
 I haven't a doubt there are lots of 
 people in Sand Harbor who would be 
 very glad to like her better than any- 
 body else, too." 
 
 43
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bell tossed her head saucily. 
 Her expanding intimacy with the mis- 
 tress of Hill House was at present a 
 source of great pride to her, and though 
 she sometimes wondered what was the 
 secret of the older woman's sudden 
 fancy for her, such questions are so 
 easily answered when it is one's self 
 who is the favorite. 
 
 As for Mrs. Bradney, she wondered 
 a little about it herself. But that 
 baby had interested her from the be- 
 ginning; she had always liked boys, 
 big loud boys, and never more than 
 now, when in her bitterness of spirit 
 she compared them with girls. Her 
 boys, if they had lived, would never 
 have humiliated her as her daughter 
 had done that child who had been as 
 near to her as the beating of her heart. 
 They would have had the pride and 
 backbone of their mother. She was 
 
 44
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 sure of that. Hilary had been like her 
 father, easy and yielding. 
 
 And so, as a sop to her hungry 
 heart, she had sought to interest her- 
 self in Baby Bell, and when he had so 
 royally justified her advice and grown 
 fat and flourishing on it by the minute, 
 and had then sought to earn a dizzy 
 reputation for himself by beer-bottles, 
 and lots of them, she had been mali- 
 ciously charmed with him, and had 
 paraded the story far and wide, to the 
 discomfiture of its authors. And his 
 parents "the children," as she called 
 them she liked to watch them, for it 
 took her back thirty years or more, 
 away back to those early beginnings 
 among the shrouded memories of the 
 past, which were so much more vivid 
 than anything she experienced now in 
 the life which was like an ugly dream 
 to her. It was a relief to escape from 
 
 45
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 it into the sweet, fresh atmosphere of 
 these young, courageous lives. 
 
 The end of the matter was that just 
 as the first snows fell white upon the 
 hills and drifted deep in the hollows, 
 the Bells moved into a house a little 
 way out on the long, lonely road which 
 led to what all Sand Harbor knew as 
 the Hill House. 
 
 Some of their people objected to 
 this arrangement, but then, as Mr. 
 Bell said, there were some people who 
 were bound to object to anything any- 
 body did, particularly if he was their 
 pastor, and especially if he did noth- 
 ing. 
 
 "I'm afraid you'll be real lonely," 
 said Mrs. Pringle, pityingly. "Now, 
 if you had taken the Drake house, I 
 could have been in and out all the 
 time. But I can't climb that hill." 
 And then Mrs. Bell silently blessed the 
 hill in her heart. 
 
 4 6
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 The Bells were reasonably wise for 
 such young people, and had furnished 
 their home on the principle that qual- 
 ity was better than quantity, which 
 might come later, but they were much 
 depressed at the amount of their 
 household goods when they came to be 
 measured by the capacity of a load at 
 three dollars the trip ; and though Mr. 
 Bell considered himself rather an ex- 
 pert packer, there were desperate mo- 
 ments when they both meditated darkly 
 amid their domestic ruins and each 
 suspected incendiary tendencies in the 
 other's bosom. 
 
 But they worried through it some- 
 how, and packed bric-a-brac in the 
 bread-box, and onions and tea and 
 turnips along with several pounds of 
 butter in the wash-boiler, which Mr. 
 Bell in a frenzied moment set on top 
 of the hot stove, out of harm's way. 
 Then the butter got loose and went 
 47
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 where it was not expected, and Mrs. 
 Bell made some strong remarks, espe- 
 cially when she discovered, too, a pint 
 bottle of ink among the best table- 
 cloths, and the coffeepot and teapot 
 tied to the handle of the kerosene 
 can, which happened to be overflow- 
 ingly full. But Mr. Bell had reached 
 the reckless stage, and said he didn't 
 care, because he didn't expect to live 
 through the experience, anyhow. 
 
 But Baby Bell's bohemian little 
 heart exulted in the chaos which had 
 overcome his tidy home. That the 
 washtubs should be in the parlor and 
 the plush chairs in the kitchen did not 
 disturb him any more than when his 
 father put him to sleep in the clothes- 
 basket, which his mother had packed 
 half- full of her best china. For, as 
 Mr. Bell unfeelingly remarked when 
 it was all over, and most of it had 
 been transferred to the garbage-box, 
 48
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Nothing was hurt with the exception 
 of the china." 
 
 Baby Bell was becoming quite ex- 
 pert in the art of living, and only cried 
 now when he had exhausted every 
 other means of making the loudest 
 noise. His mother thought he must 
 have a remarkable ear for music; he 
 could elicit such a variety of sounds 
 from a tin pan and an iron spoon. 
 But Mr. Bell felt a little sore on this 
 subject. Of course, every man likes 
 to see his children happy; it is quite 
 another thing to hear them in the act. 
 
 They were charmed with the new 
 house and its surroundings. There 
 were no neighbors offensively near 
 them, and Mrs. Bell rejoiced in the 
 big, airy rooms, with their outlook 
 upon enchanting glimpses of the lake 
 that is, until they came to put down 
 the carpets, which she tugged at one 
 end and Mr. Bell at the other, until 
 49
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 only a miracle saved them from being 
 torn into quarters and until, in a sud- 
 den and absurdly premature cold snap, 
 all the water-pipes burst, and were 
 discovered to be of so queer and com- 
 plicated a character that they bore no 
 resemblance to anything in the earth 
 beneath or the heavens above except 
 the plumber's bill. That fifteen dol- 
 lars left a harrowing spot in Mrs. Bell's 
 heart. She never ceased wondering 
 what they might have done with it if 
 they hadn't had to do that. It really 
 seemed that no possible investment 
 ever could have yielded such remark- 
 able returns as that identical fifteen 
 dollars, but for the perfidy of a 
 plumber. 
 
 But after all, in due process of time 
 they emerged from the state of sav- 
 agery into which their moving had 
 plunged them, and became again well- 
 bred, self-respecting citizens, no 
 50
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 longer under the fell necessity of eat- 
 ing soup with a salt-spoon or carving 
 the roast with a fruit-knife. And when 
 the fourteen thousand and sixty-third 
 tack had been driven to its final home, 
 and the step-ladder had made posi- 
 tively its last appearance in the parlor, 
 Mrs. Bell admitted that she must now 
 turn her attention to the domestic 
 problem, though she had declared that 
 she would never, never keep a girl 
 again, owing to the fiendish atrocities 
 committed by the last one upon the 
 dinner-service. According to Mr. Bell, 
 she should have engaged a servant just 
 before they moved, but she had coldly 
 scouted the idea of such a thing. 
 
 "Why, it would simply ruin any 
 servant, Douglas, to bring her into the 
 midst of all this confusion. She would 
 get such an impression of disorder 
 that she would never be a tidy girl as 
 long as she lived with us." 
 51
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Well, if she's such a confirmed 
 imbecile that she can't succeed in 
 acquiring in time the impression that 
 we don't always eat our dinners off 
 individual soap-boxes, I think we'd 
 better find it out quick," said Mr. Bell, 
 warmly. "A girl like that wouldn't 
 blink at making the baby into mock- 
 duck soup some Sunday morning when 
 you're at church, if she ran short of 
 ingredients." 
 
 But Mrs. Bell obstinately stuck to 
 her own view of the case, and when- 
 ever she needed help "got in" a char- 
 woman of the poor -but- honest - if - 
 homely-widow variety. This system 
 might have continued indefinitely if 
 Mrs. Baggs had not developed a curi- 
 ous little habit of rushing in upon her 
 the last thing before she went home to 
 say breathlessly: 
 
 "Oh, Mis' Bell! There's a few lit- 
 tle old scraps in the pantry ; no lady 
 52
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 like you would wish to use 'em, 
 ma'am, and it's too bad to throw out 
 food that my poor children yes, Mis' 
 Bell, I'm obliged to own we've got 
 down to where they acshully would eat 
 a dog's leavin's yes, ma'am, thank 
 you, ma'am." And then before Mrs. 
 Bell could rally her recollections of 
 the larder, Mrs. Baggs would have 
 escaped with the potatoes and steak 
 reserved for breakfast, as well as 
 the chicken croquettes waiting under a 
 plate for supper. But that was not 
 the worst. Things vanished which 
 Mrs. Baggs did not think it worth 
 even her breath to mention. Mrs. 
 Bell tried the effect of polite, serious, 
 and finally severe remonstrance, but it 
 was a great waste of time and energy. 
 Mrs. Baggs prided herself on her hon- 
 esty, and never admitted anything in 
 her past career likely to interfere with 
 that estimate of herself. Every morn- 
 53
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ing she washed her slate clean morally, 
 and began all over again. 
 
 "Shoes, ma'am? No, I don't 
 remember nothin' about shoes, 
 ma'am. It's affliction; that's what's 
 done it, Mis' Bell. My memory ain't 
 what it used to be, and if I seem 
 lackin' in gratitood about a pair of 
 old shoes you may have been kind 
 enough to give me when I was here last, 
 just put it down to affliction, ma'am." 
 
 Thus it was that it became necessary 
 to relinquish Mrs. Baggs as too expen- 
 sive a luxury, and then Mrs. Bell's 
 fancy lightly turned to thoughts of 
 "girls." 
 
 But at the end of six weeks she had 
 experimented with seven, and could 
 hardly think of the subject without 
 hysterics. 
 
 Number One had a passion for bead 
 trimmings, and salted the stew and 
 seasoned the curry with the deadly 
 54
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 drippings of her garniture. She had 
 a standing recommendation from the 
 dentist's wife. Number Two beat the 
 baby with his own father's walking- 
 stick, and ate up an entire angel-cake, 
 Mrs. Bell's masterpiece, before the 
 icing had had time to dry, and threw 
 away the dish. Number Three excused 
 her perfidy in going off and leaving 
 the baby alone in the house at night 
 by proudly describing herself as of an 
 extremely nervous, sympathetic tem- 
 perament. 
 
 "The least sound would set me off," 
 she said, darkly. 
 
 "And yet you would leave my poor 
 little baby here all alone the minute 
 my back's turned!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Bell, resentfully. 
 
 "Oh, yes, ma'am! Because he's a 
 child, and can be trained to stay alone 
 just as well as not. But I ain't, and 
 I never was, and I can't." 
 55
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Number Four, who started out bril- 
 liantly, said at the end of the second 
 day that she was ready to "quit," un- 
 less they could have breakfast by 6:30 
 sharp. She liked to get her work out 
 of the way early. 
 
 "But we never have breakfast before 
 eight o'clock, and we never shall," de- 
 clared Mrs. Bell, with unexpected 
 firmness. "For I run this house just 
 to suit my husband, and nobody else." 
 
 "You do?" exclaimed the girl, in 
 genuine astonishment. "Well, I guess 
 I'd better go, then, for 'twouldn't be 
 the least bit of good for me to try to 
 stay where things wasn't run to suit 
 me." 
 
 Number Five was delicate and re- 
 fined, and gave Mrs. Bell at once to 
 understand that she considered house- 
 work most degrading, and that she 
 expected her pursuit of it to be very 
 brief. It transpired later, when she 
 
 56
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 took to practicing the Mad Scene from 
 "Lucia di Lammermoor" after the 
 family had retired for the night, that 
 she had fixed her leaping ambitions 
 upon the operatic stage. Mrs. Bell 
 remonstrated. "Oh, but I don't mind 
 losing my rest," said the incipient 
 star, fervently. "I'd lots rather sing 
 than sleep." 
 
 "Yes, but as Mr. Bell and I can't 
 sing, Arethusa, don't you think we 
 might prefer to sleep?" inquired Mrs. 
 Bell, gently. 
 
 Arethusa argued, but Mrs. Bell was 
 adamant, and after that wild airs from 
 the opera ceased to mingle with clerical 
 dreams; but then Arethusa turned 
 her mind to literature and art, and 
 waylaid the irate minister at every turn 
 in order to discuss aesthetics with him, 
 while Mrs. Bell vainly tried to evolve 
 plain-living order out of the high- 
 thinking chaos in the kitchen. Clearly 
 57
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 this would not do, and they were forced 
 to part with Arethusa with some re- 
 gret, for she had given them a great 
 deal to laugh about in the brief days 
 of her sojourn with them. The girl 
 was quite sad at leaving them. 
 
 "I was so glad when I got here," 
 she said, simply. "I thought you 
 were educated folks, and that we'd 
 understand each other." 
 
 These household treasures had all 
 objected more or less strenuously to 
 the existence of Baby Bell, but none 
 quite as vehemently as Number Six. 
 She was herself the first of a family of 
 fourteen, however, and may naturally 
 have felt some anxiety as to the pos- 
 sible overcrowding of the globe during 
 her immediate lifetime. 
 
 "I like your place real well," she 
 
 said, earnestly, "if 'twasn't for that 
 
 baby. I come here first 'cause I liked 
 
 the looks of your husband, and I 
 
 58
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 don't mind you, but I just can't put 
 up with that baby." 
 
 "What would you like me to do 
 about it?" inquired Mrs. Bell, in a 
 tone of ominous calm. "Would you 
 like me to kill him off?" 
 
 The girl looked shocked. "Oh, 
 no, ma'am! But if I was you, I cer- 
 tainly would try soothin' syrup. Lots 
 of women does that. My mother had 
 a rule that made a gallon at a time. 
 You'd sleep better nights, and things 
 would stay done daytimes, too." 
 
 But Mrs. Bell reasoned with Wil- 
 helmina, and proved conclusively to 
 her own satisfaction that soothing syrup 
 was slow murder, and Wilhelmina 
 said, "My! ain't that awful?" And 
 after that delightful calm descended 
 upon the Bell household, until Mrs. 
 Bell discovered one day, by the luck- 
 iest accident, that Wilhelmina had 
 taken to syrup-soothing the baby on 
 59
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 her own account. The doctor stayed 
 by him for some hours, and said when 
 he went away that it had been a 
 pretty close call, and Wilhelmina de- 
 parted an hour or so later to seek 
 another and a childless sphere of use- 
 fulness. 
 
 Number Seven inaugurated her term 
 by a series of climaxes and anti-cli- 
 maxes that proved conclusively that 
 it was misapplied energy to reason 
 from cause to effect or backward in 
 her case. The first morning she raised 
 an issue on the subject of roasts, and 
 stuck to it. They were always cooked 
 in the frying-pan on the top of the 
 stove. 
 
 "But they would be raw inside," 
 objected Mrs. Bell. 
 
 "Then fry him again," declaimed 
 the girl, with Scandinavian calm. 
 
 "But it would be burnt black out- 
 side then." 
 
 60
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ' ' Then cut him black off, ' ' suggested 
 the maiden, resourcefully. 
 
 Mrs. Bell looked positively danger- 
 ous, but Ingri had often seen people 
 look like that, and she was undismayed. 
 
 That afternoon a visitor claimed 
 Mrs. Bell just as the baby was dressed 
 for his walk, all but his cap. 
 
 "You'll find it in the entry, and be 
 sure he's warm enough," said Mrs. 
 Bell, hurriedly. 
 
 He was, for he went crowing through 
 the streets with the tea-cosy on top of 
 his head. Of course everybody met 
 him, even his father, who wondered, 
 with masculine brilliancy, what in des- 
 peration was the matter with the child's 
 head. After a while it occurred to him. 
 
 "Say, Betty," he began when he 
 reached home, "I met Laurie down 
 town with a girl. He looked striking. " 
 
 "Striking?" repeated Mrs. Bell, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 61
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Yes. Kind of shako effect on his 
 head, you know. Oh, everybody no- 
 ticed it." 
 
 "Shako?" Mrs. Bell looked alarmed. 
 "See here, Douglas, tell me this in- 
 stant what you mean." 
 
 "Well, Betty, it looked like the tea- 
 cosy, but perhaps it wasn't." 
 
 Mrs. Bell groaned. Then she went 
 moodily to the window to wait for the 
 procession. Presently she began to 
 laugh, and laugh again. 
 
 "Douglas, what shall I do with her?" 
 
 "Drown her," he answered, sol- 
 emnly. "In another incarnation she 
 might catch on; she never will in 
 this." 
 
 When the girl at last arrived, with 
 slow, stately step, Mrs. Bell led her 
 into the pantry. 
 
 "See! This is the pantry; not the 
 entry. This is the tea-cosy. This is 
 the teapot; the tea-cosy goes on the 
 62
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 teapot to keep it hot. Do you under- 
 stand?" She hung the cosy back on 
 its hook above the teapot. 
 
 The girl looked abused. "Boy's 
 had on pod," she repeated, scornfully; 
 but she absorbed the theory, for that 
 evening, when she brought in the 
 coffeepot, tall and slender, it was clad 
 in the tea-cosy, short and stout. 
 
 "Still, after all, she's logical," urged 
 Mr. Bell. "I never could understand 
 myself why tea should be kept warm 
 and coffee allowed to take cold." 
 
 "Oh, logical!" exclaimed Mrs. Bell, 
 contemptuously; "she's logical enough 
 to burn the house down so as to have 
 a good fire to get the dinner by." 
 
 After supper Mr. Bell recalled the 
 step-ladder from oblivion, and climbed 
 up to repair the bell, which was slightly 
 out of order. When he hoped he had 
 finished, he called to the girl, who had 
 watched his proceedings with great 
 63
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 interest. "Now, Ingri, run out to the 
 front door and see if it will go." 
 
 In a moment the bell whanged wildly 
 around as if it had been struck by a 
 social cyclone, and then there was a 
 deadly calm. 
 
 "Douglas!" screamed Mrs. Bell, 
 from the head of the stairs, "what are 
 you doing down there?" 
 
 ' 'Trying to pray for grace to bear it, ' ' 
 answered Mr. Bell, fiercely; "for I 
 know that donkey is lying on her back 
 in the middle of the road, taking deadly 
 aim at the zenith with my bell-handle. ' ' 
 
 But she was not, for she met Mrs. 
 Bell half-way down the hall, firmly 
 gripping the handle, with about three 
 feet of wire trailing behind her. 
 
 ' ' I got him ; he go, ' ' she said, cheer- 
 fully displaying the wreck. 
 
 "Still, Douglas, I think she's logical, 
 you know," said Mrs. Bell, cruelly, as 
 she vainly tried to soothe her husband's 
 6 4
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 angry passions. "You told her to see 
 if the bell would go, and she did, and 
 it went." 
 
 "Well, I guess she'd better go, too, 
 if she values her health," said Mr. 
 Bell, sullenly; "for I warn you, Betty, 
 she'll never flourish under the same 
 roof with me. And if I were you, I'd 
 find out all she knows on the subject 
 of gas before she goes to bed, or she'll 
 blow it out sure and get herself asphyx- 
 iated." 
 
 Mrs. Bell did. She went through a 
 little drill again, when the girl came 
 and asked her fora"lamb-b" to go to 
 bed with. 
 
 "Gas is much safer than a lamp. 
 This is the gas. This is the match. 
 This is where you strike the" match; 
 no, never on the paper or the bed. 
 This is where you turn it on. This 
 is how it lights. That is how it 
 burns." 
 
 65
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Burns what?" asked the girl, sus- 
 piciously. 
 
 "Why, the gas, of course." 
 
 "I dought you said dot was der 
 gozz," objected the girl, grasping the 
 pipe like a Samson. 
 
 "No, this is the gas, " sighed Mrs. 
 Bell, wearily, impaling the flame on a 
 hat-pin. "And this is how you turn 
 it off. And this is when it's out." 
 
 "Oud," repeated the maiden, duti- 
 fully. 
 
 "Now, if you're afraid of it," said 
 Mrs. Bell, as .she lighted it again, 
 "I'll come in and put it out when you 
 are in bed." 
 
 But the girl snorted dangerously. 
 "No, no! I do dot for meinselv." 
 
 "Very well; but be sure you don't 
 blow it out," urged Mrs. Bell for the 
 fiftieth time. 
 
 "Blow him oud," repeated the 
 scholar, obediently, and retired. 
 66
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 But she did, just the same, and was 
 discovered half an hour later frantic- 
 ally trying to climb the bare wall of 
 her bedroom, apparently under the 
 impression that the ceiling afforded the 
 safest means of exit, and screaming 
 hysterically : 
 
 "Oh, .led me oud! Save me! 
 I'm smudderin'! Murder! Help! 
 Oh, oh!" 
 
 She was rescued from an odorous 
 death, but she refused to stay in the 
 house another hour, "mit beobles vot 
 did such tings," and Mr. Bell was 
 finally forced to escort her to her 
 home, a mile and a half out of town. 
 
 When he returned, a good deal 
 sooner than Mrs. Bell expected him, 
 he entertained her with a very suspi- 
 cious account of his trip. 
 
 "Oh, it's a cold night, my dear; 
 fifteen below zero, I should judge; and 
 I walked fast, yes, very fast, until we 
 67
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 reached the Mile Bridge, when I 
 stopped and told that Swedish gym- 
 nast that I guessed the home of her 
 'barents' was just where it always had 
 been, but that if she had any difficulty 
 in locating it I hoped she'd let me 
 know to-morrow. Yes, she made re- 
 marks ; there was the force of a Gatling 
 gun about them, but I merely said 
 good by, and came away." 
 
 "But, Douglas, she'll lose her way, 
 and freeze to death." 
 
 "I shouldn't wonder," he said, 
 hopefully, and went to sleep. 
 
 And Mrs. Bell never could arrive at 
 the actual facts about that excursion, 
 for the mere mention of it always 
 served to fire both Mr. Bell's temper 
 and his imagination. 
 
 But the next morning the domestic 
 
 sky was clouded, for the baby was 
 
 cross, and the bread was frozen, and 
 
 the fire was cranky, and as they had 
 
 68
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 forgotten to put out the pan for the 
 milkman when he came around about 
 five o'clock, there was no milk for 
 breakfast. When at last Mrs. Bell 
 sat down beside the waters of the 
 dishpan and wept, Mr. Bell jammed 
 his hat on his head and went out, with 
 the desperate air of a man determined 
 to do something, or die in the attempt, 
 at least. 
 
 When he returned, some hours later, 
 he had the aspect of one who has con- 
 quered fate in a face-to-face conflict. 
 
 "I'd like some lunch, quick," he 
 said to Mrs. Bell; "and then I'm off, 
 and you needn't expect me back until 
 I get here with Jeanie." 
 
 "Jeanie! But who's Jeanie, I'd like 
 to know?" 
 
 "She's her aunt's niece; and her 
 
 aunt says her people won't want to let 
 
 her come, but that if I just sit right 
 
 down and say I've come to stay untU 
 
 69
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Jeanie goes back with me, she guesses 
 I'll get her." 
 
 "Now, Douglas!" 
 
 "All right ! You'll see. But she lives 
 ten miles out, and if I have to sit there 
 long, it may be some time before I get 
 back." 
 
 It was dark when he returned, but 
 he had Jeanie with him. Mrs. Bell 
 gasped when she saw her. 
 
 "Why, Douglas, she's a child!" 
 
 "Yes; about thirteen in years, but 
 quite thirty in experience." 
 
 "Thirteen!" Mrs. Bell sniffed con- 
 temptuously. "And such a looking 
 girl, Douglas! Such a chunk!" 
 
 "Oh, she isn't a show-case beauty, 
 Betty. But they say she's all wool 
 and a yard wide, and warranted fast 
 color, and guaranteed good wearing, 
 and thirteen to the dozen every time, 
 Betty." 
 
 "Well, she looks to me for all the 
 70
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 world like a home-made rag doll. Still, 
 perhaps she'll do." 
 
 And Jeanie did "do." Sometimes 
 extraordinarily well, and occasionally 
 quite ill; but always with an eye sin- 
 gle to the interests of Baby Bell, with 
 whom she had established free-mason- 
 ical relations from the instant of her 
 entrance into his home. Her affection 
 was of the passionate, exclusive kind, 
 and she speedily identified herself so 
 completely with the household which 
 she served that her hand was against 
 every man, woman, and child, particu- 
 larly baby, outside of it. Barely to 
 suggest to her that any other baby 
 possessed some slight claim to beauty 
 or sweetness was to set her tongue 
 wagging at both ends in bitter dispar- 
 agement of such ludicrous statements 
 about any child, save only and forever 
 Baby Bell. 
 
 She had a stringent shrewdness in
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 dealing with the outside world which 
 Mrs. Bell found sometimes embarrass- 
 ing, but always edifying. 
 
 "Did you have money enough to 
 pay for the groceries, Jeanie?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; I made it do." 
 
 "Made it do?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. That black-hearted 
 villyun of a grocer wanted twenty cents 
 for his eggs, but I just said to him, 
 'I'll take a dozen, but I'll no be givin' 
 ye more than fifteen cents for them, 
 for that's all I've got, and it's a great 
 deal more than they're worth, anyway,' 
 The store was full of people, and they 
 laughed, the triflin' things, but I 
 didn't weary myself noticin' them." 
 
 She rigorously measured and re- 
 measured the milk before the milk- 
 man's eyes every time he brought it, 
 and she told the gas-meter man that 
 he was a hardened old Ananias-and- 
 Sapphira, and was destined to be eter- 
 72
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 x 
 
 nally smothered in the fumes out of 
 which he had cheated people here on 
 earth. Nothing escaped her small, 
 black, anxious eyes; she had the 
 natural gifts of a born shrew. She 
 soon became a terror to all the pranking 
 small boys in the neighborhood. Other 
 people's windows might be broken by 
 stray stones; the Bells' were only 
 broken once after Jeanie took their 
 domestic affairs in hand. That time 
 she caught the boy, and dragged him 
 to the kitchen, and held him there, 
 helpless prey to an eloquence more 
 awful than any "punching," while for 
 one long quarter-hour she pictured to 
 him the horrors of his downward career 
 from the moment he threw that stone 
 until he fell from the gallows plump 
 into perdition. 
 
 She had not been in Mrs. Bell's em- 
 ploy a month before she had discovered 
 the actual and aspirational standing of 
 73
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 everybody in Sand Harbor, but she 
 had a method of reassigning them to 
 a status of her own which was very 
 spicy. 
 
 "Oh, there goes that Mrs. Oblender; 
 and she pretends to believe that every- 
 body else believes that she's a lady." 
 
 "But, Jeanie, I'm sure she's a very 
 kind-hearted woman," said Mrs. Bell, 
 reproachfully. 
 
 "Kind-hearted! H'm! She needs 
 to be, to put up with herself. Just 
 look at her now, airing herself around 
 like a great peacock! Poor silly! 
 Don't she know that if a peacock had 
 more head to keep brains enough in, 
 he'd have less tail?" 
 
 "But, Jeanie, Mr. Bell says she " 
 
 "Why, of course he does," inter- 
 rupted Jeanie, suavely. "A man can't 
 never tell a woman from her petti- 
 coats." 
 
 Jeanie was Scotch and sorry for it. 
 74
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 She cultivated Americanisms with a 
 zeal that sometimes produced startling 
 results. 
 
 "Is the minister at home?" blandly 
 inquired a clerical-looking person at 
 the door one day. 
 
 But Jeanie had seen that sort before, 
 and shrewdly suspected his coat-tails 
 of harboring a subscription book. 
 
 "No, he ain't," she said, firmly. 
 "He's gone to preach the sermon at 
 the State Association, and anybody 
 but a blame book-tramp would have 
 known it." 
 
 But he was not a "blame book- 
 tramp"; he was one of the biggest 
 toads in the ecclesiastical puddle, him- 
 self on the way to the gathering in 
 question. Fortunately, he had a royal 
 sense of humor, and Mr. Bell and the 
 Association heard the joke a little 
 later. 
 
 "But, you know, Jeanie, it might 
 75
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 have been fatal," said Mrs. Bell, 
 solemnly. "You must exercise a great 
 deal of discretion about answering the 
 door." 
 
 "Discretion!" echoed Jeanie, in a 
 tone of grievance. "And then when 
 I let the scented-soap peddler in last 
 week, because he was dressed like a 
 gentleman, and smelt like one, too, 
 Mr. Bell wasn't pleased, either."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 "Jeanie's aunt was here this after- 
 noon, Douglas, and she says that Miss 
 Bradney is coming home the end of 
 this week." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 Mrs. Bell surveyed her husband for 
 a moment in silence; then she shook 
 her fist at him. 
 
 "Douglas, what did I say to you?" 
 
 Mr. Bell dragged his eyes off his 
 book, and looked guiltily at his wife. 
 Then he brightened up, and said, 
 briskly : 
 
 "Yes, dear; how much do you 
 want? Will a couple of dollars do? 
 It's all I've got in the house." 
 
 Mrs. Bell snorted. 
 
 "Douglas, do you think I can't 
 77
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 come near you without wanting to 
 hold you up?" 
 
 But she was bursting with intelli- 
 gence, and could not afford to be cruel 
 to herself, just then, for the mere sake 
 of properly disciplining her husband. 
 
 ' ' Just think, dear. " (" That's what 
 I was trying to do," muttered Mr. 
 Bell, rebelliously.) "She says Miss 
 Bradney is really engaged to old Mrs. 
 Hessemer's son you know, his father 
 used to be Mr. Bradney 's foreman for 
 years and years. Just think of that!" 
 
 Mr. Bell compelled his mind to bear 
 on the subject, and then said, weakly, 
 "Well?" 
 
 At that Mrs. Bell simply pounded 
 him. "Well!" she echoed, scornfully. 
 "As if such a thing could be well, 
 goosey. Why, it's awful. Even Mrs. 
 McAlpine, one of the Hessemer's own 
 class, as you might say, sympathizes 
 entirely with Mrs. Bradney." 
 78
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Oh, I dare say. There's sometimes 
 nobody quite so jealous of what we 
 call the working people as some other 
 working people." 
 
 "Of course he's not a workingman, 
 Douglas. Mrs. McAlpine says he's 
 been away for years at college, and 
 that he's a professor, or going to be, 
 or something like that." 
 
 "Well, then, what's anybody got 
 cramps about?" demanded Mr. Bell, 
 belligerently. "Where can you find a 
 nicer, more intelligent woman in our 
 whole parish than Mrs. Hessemer? 
 And wait! Why, somebody told me 
 quite lately that if Bradney hadn't 
 been as grasping as a pair of pincers, 
 Hessemer never would have lived and 
 died just foreman of the mills." 
 
 "But you see, Douglas, he did," 
 
 said Mrs. Bell, from the unsentimental 
 
 standpoint of cold fact. "And I 
 
 think it's just awful for Mrs. Bradney. 
 
 79
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Of course that's why Miss Bradney's 
 been away all this time." 
 
 "But I don't see why," objected 
 Mr. Bell, stubbornly. 
 
 "Douglas, can't you see that it's 
 horrible for them to be alone together 
 under such circumstances?" 
 
 "No, I should think it would be 
 nice. Women ought to be thankful 
 enough when they get fine, promising 
 young fellows to burden themselves up 
 with their useless old daughters. And 
 I hope he'll get a pot of money for all 
 his trouble." 
 
 "Douglas, you're as disgusting as 
 as a Mormon," said Mrs. Bell, indig- 
 nantly. But in a minute she laughed, 
 and her husband kissed her, and then 
 she went on again. 
 
 "You see, Miss Bradney simply 
 won't give him up, and when she's at 
 home she and her mother hardly ever 
 speak. ' ' 
 
 80
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Then I should think she'd stay 
 away." 
 
 "Yes, but Mrs. Bradney has sent 
 for her. She has been in New York, 
 studying art." 
 
 "Heart, you mean," suggested Mr. 
 Bell, frivolously, but his wife froze 
 him with a look. 
 
 After this Mrs. Bell saw Miss Brad- 
 ney in church several times, and 
 studied her with furtive curiosity. 
 
 "It's her hair, " she announced with 
 conviction to Mr. Bell one Sunday at 
 dinner. 
 
 "Oh, I hope so," he retorted, 
 quickly. "In one so young really, 
 store hair would seem out of char- 
 acter." 
 
 ' ' Now, Douglas, you know quite well 
 what I mean. It's her hair that makes 
 her look like that. She really wouldn't 
 be much without it." 
 
 "No, I suppose not." Mr. Bell 
 81
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 passed his hand experimentally over 
 his own head. "I don't imagine that 
 I, or even you, Betty, would look well 
 entirely bald. As a test of beauty I 
 should call that severe." 
 
 Mrs. Bell loftily ignored these re- 
 marks, and maintained a stony silence 
 while she drank a cup of coffee. 
 
 "I never saw such delicious hair 
 great pale gold masses of it rippling 
 back from her face; and then that 
 lovely black velvet hat on top of it 
 why, Douglas, she just looked like a 
 sad, sweet Madonna this morning." 
 
 "Yes, I dare say," said Mr. Bell, 
 with a desire to please. "Still, Betty, 
 a Madonna in a modern big hat it's 
 rather straining on the imagination, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, dear, on yours. But 
 you know, Douglas, I really suppose 
 her hair is about all there is of her." 
 
 Mr. Bell looked so innocently aston- 
 82
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ished at this statement that Mrs. Bell, 
 scenting mischief, hurried on. 
 
 "I mean, dear, that kind of looking 
 woman is always stupid or spiteful or 
 stubborn, or something of that sort." 
 
 "Oh, of course, dear," said Mr. Bell, 
 largely. But his eyes were twinkling, 
 and Mrs. Bell felt it. 
 
 "It's simply ridiculous," she said, 
 severely. "I believe you would actu- 
 ally uphold that girl in marrying on a 
 beggarly salary, or none at all for that 
 matter now what are you laughing 
 at?" 
 
 Mr. Bell became instantly meek. 
 "Oh, nothing, dear. I was only think- 
 ing how wise, worldly wise, a maiden 
 becomes as soon as she is married her- 
 self." 
 
 Mrs. Bell blushed. "Well, Douglas, 
 I think our case was entirely different." 
 
 "Yes, to be sure, dear. It always 
 is, I believe." 
 
 83
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 A few days after this Mrs. Bell, call- 
 ing at the Hill House, expressed a 
 desire to see Miss Bradney. 
 
 "Perhaps you would like to come 
 with me to the studio," said Mrs. 
 Bradney. "Hilary is busy there just 
 now." 
 
 They found the girl, enveloped in a 
 big apron, kneeling on the floor in 
 front of a little cabinet. She rose 
 with a quick flush of embarrassment. 
 
 "Oh, is it wood-carving you do?" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Bell. "Why, how 
 lovely that is!" 
 
 Miss Bradney smiled. "It really 
 isn't, you know," she said, shyly. 
 
 "It's just beautiful," contended 
 Mrs. Bell, stoutly; and then she 
 swarmed all over the room, with a 
 charming audacity which was fatal to 
 constraint, pulling out this and that, 
 and bubbling over with delighted com- 
 ment. 
 
 8 4
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Yes, Hilary is really clever," said 
 Mrs. Bradney. "I am very anxious 
 for her to go abroad with me this sum- 
 mer, and study under some one who 
 knows enough to teach her what she's 
 ready to learn now." 
 
 "Then you really think of going 
 away?" 
 
 "Oh, yes. We shall go in April." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney spoke with peculiar 
 decision. Mrs. Bell turned to the 
 girl. 
 
 "Won't that be splendid? Aren't 
 you wild at the very idea?" 
 
 Perhaps Hilary felt that she could 
 truthfully say she was, but she hesi- 
 tated, and a hot wave of color rose 
 cruelly across her pale cheeks. "I 
 don't know," she said at last, and then 
 she began to gather up her tools ner- 
 vously, and Mrs. Bell soon went away, 
 acutely pondering the little scene upon 
 which she had stumbled. 
 85
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 But not as acutely as the girl, left 
 alone to realize silently all her dread of 
 the scheme she felt slowly coiling about 
 her. This, then, accounted for the 
 complete change in her mother's man- 
 ner since her return. She had gone 
 away under a blast of scorn and repu- 
 diation, but she came home again to 
 find herself once more the idolized 
 child, whose lightest wish must be 
 law. But she had not been deceived 
 by this tender air of relenting in her 
 mother, for she knew instinctively 
 that it boded no good to her lover, 
 and there still lingered in her the pa- 
 thetic belief of the child in the parent 
 as a species of overruling providence 
 which could inevitably accomplish its 
 purposes somehow. 
 
 And now suddenly she had felt the 
 grip of the iron beneath the velvet, 
 and her fears quickly filled in the de- 
 tails of her mother's plan. With the 
 86
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ocean once put between herself and 
 her lover, there seemed a chance to 
 her excited fancy for anything to hap- 
 pen. Day after day she struggled for 
 courage to go and talk over her diffi- 
 culties with the minister's wife, who 
 had seemed such a kind, sympathetic 
 little woman, but then her pride would 
 recoil from the thought of discussing 
 her mother with an outsider. 
 
 And so time passed, even at the 
 Hill House, until the wild winter winds 
 which raged around it yielded to softer 
 airs, and the aromatic sweetness of 
 moist, swelling buds rose with the in- 
 toxicating incense of spring into the 
 brooding blue of the sky. A tumult 
 of awakening life stirred the long- 
 silent echoes of the hills, as the 
 shadows deepened beneath the quick- 
 ening green of the trees. It was the 
 dream-time of youth again, and 
 Hilary's heart throbbed in unconscious 
 87
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 rhythm with it. Hugo? Why, how 
 could she help loving him? He had 
 been part of her life from the time 
 when she was a dainty little golden- 
 haired girl in white frocks with pretty 
 blue shoulder-knots, and he a glad- 
 eyed boy, a great favorite in those 
 days of Mrs. Bradney herself. She 
 had often said that she thought as 
 much of the boy as her husband did 
 of his father, and with Hilary any- 
 where in his charge her mind was com- 
 pletely at rest. 
 
 And so the happy years had 
 slipped by until, at seventeen, Hugo 
 went away to college, spurred to this 
 course by Mr. Bradney himself. 
 
 "I tell you," he often said to his 
 wife, "the boy will do. He'll do." 
 
 "Do what?" inquired Mrs. Bradney, 
 rather dryly, at last, and as she reflected 
 in after years, with remarkable appro- 
 priateness. 
 
 88
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Oh, anything. One never can 
 tell. He must have a chance, though." 
 
 But it was four or five years before 
 Hugo and Hilary met again. Mrs. 
 Bradney took care of that, for she had 
 suddenly conceived an idea which was 
 very harassing to her, and eminently 
 amusing to her husband, who was one 
 of those men with supreme confidence 
 in the enduring infancy of their daugh- 
 ters, and a possible lover for his "little 
 Hilary" impressed him as the most 
 remote of prospects. 
 
 Still, after this, when the young fel- 
 low came home on his vacations Hilary 
 was always away, and when at last 
 they did meet, it was under conditions 
 so changed that the old frank compan- 
 ionship was clearly impossible. 
 
 It was the year after Mr. Bradney 's 
 
 death that Hugo boldly called at the 
 
 Hill House, having learned that Miss 
 
 Bradney was at home. But it was 
 
 89
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bradney who received the tall, 
 handsome fellow, with a manner coldly 
 suggestive of the gulf which yawned 
 between them. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Bradney is at home, but 
 I believe she is busy in the studio just 
 now, and she would not care to be dis- 
 turbed. I am glad to hear such good 
 accounts of you. It must be very 
 gratifying to your mother, and I hope 
 you will always remember what great 
 sacrifices she has made for you." 
 
 This was distinctly patronizing, and 
 the feel of it proved unexpectedly 
 stimulating to the young man. 
 
 "I am sorry not to see Hilary," he 
 answered, recklessly; "and as to my 
 mother well, mother knows," he 
 added, simply. 
 
 Mrs. Bradney was amazed and dis- 
 concerted at the change in him. For, 
 apart from his undoubted gifts in the 
 way of scholarship, he had the assured 
 90
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ease of a well-bred man of the world. 
 "Just like one of ourselves," she ad- 
 mitted, grudgingly, to herself. But 
 "Hilary!" What impertinence! And 
 in view of all these circumstances, it 
 seemed to her a particularly ill-timed 
 dispensation of Providence that a 
 sprained ankle should keep her a pris- 
 oner just when she most needed to be 
 free. 
 
 "Oh, was that Hessemer boy at 
 church this morning?" she asked, casu- 
 ally, when Hilary came home on the 
 Sunday following his call at the Hill 
 House. 
 
 "Hugo Hessemer? No, I don't 
 think he was, but " The girl hesi- 
 tated. For some reason it seemed un- 
 expectedly difficult to tell her mother 
 what she had not dreamed of conceal- 
 ing. 
 
 "There! Don't talk to me, dear; 
 my head is aching," said Mrs. Brad- 
 9'
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ney, abruptly. The less Hilary 
 thought about the boy the better. 
 But what a child she was. It would 
 probably never occur to her to regard 
 herself in the light of a great "catch," 
 whom this ambitious youth and his 
 mother might well desire to land. 
 
 And as the days and weeks went by, 
 and Mrs. Bradney's vigilance failed to 
 detect any sign of the thing she 
 dreaded most, the tension of her anx- 
 iety relaxed, and she indulged in a 
 comfortable pride in her daughter's 
 dignified perception of her exalted 
 position. 
 
 And yet that Sunday had seen the 
 germinating of a tiny seed which must 
 have lain dormant in Hilary's heart 
 ever since those halcyon, unforgotten 
 days when Hugo had been her little 
 knight. He had not been at church, 
 and Hilary had not seen or thought of 
 him until she turned from the town 
 92
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 into the long, quiet Hill Road, with 
 its shade so deep and cool, this warm 
 June morning. 
 
 She stepped lightly along, busy with 
 a young girl's pretty thoughts, until 
 suddenly, stirred by some swift sense 
 of an unseen presence, she turned her 
 head. 
 
 "Hugo!" 
 
 "Oh, Hilary!" 
 
 But after that first eager moment it 
 seemed that with every passing instant 
 they drifted farther apart, for each was 
 startled into vague dismay at the great- 
 ness of the change in the other, and 
 presently they found themselves talk- 
 ing in a way distressingly unlike the 
 happy hand-in-hand style of their 
 memories. 
 
 "It is some time since we met," said 
 Mr. Hessemer, with the dignity befit- 
 ting a distinguished college career. 
 
 "Yes; it must be nearly five years," 
 93
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 replied Miss Bradney, with the reserve 
 adhering to a long dress and grown-up 
 hair. 
 
 By and by she glanced at him tim- 
 idly. How handsome he was, and how 
 cleverly he talked, when he let himself 
 out a little, about his life in the uni- 
 versity. 
 
 And as Hugo gradually recovered 
 from his subtle sense of disappoint- 
 ment in this strange, this shy-eyed 
 Hilary, he was thrilled by a new and 
 exquisite sense of her maidenhood. 
 He had suffered for the last year or 
 two from the very young man's deep 
 and incisive knowledge of women and 
 their ways, and among the cigars and 
 his chums he had said some very quot- 
 able things about the fair and frail. 
 
 But he forgot all about that now, 
 
 when he looked down at the young 
 
 girl beside him, in her soft white gown, 
 
 with her sweet flushed face, now seek- 
 
 94
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ing his, and now shyly hidden beneath 
 her big white hat. 
 
 "Do you remember," he said, when 
 they paused in the moment of part- 
 ing, "the little toys I used to whittle 
 out for you, and the cradle I made for 
 Araminta Maria?" 
 
 "Remember!" She lifted her eyes 
 to him in smiling protest. "Why, 
 Hugo, I've got them all now." 
 
 He walked away from her that Sun- 
 day morning, stirred by the first vague 
 thrill of an emotion unrecognized, but 
 already passionately sacred to him. 
 
 And the inevitable climax of it all 
 came a year later, just before he sailed 
 for Germany to take his post-graduate 
 course, when he walked into Mrs. 
 Bradney's presence one evening with 
 Hilary's fluttering fingers in his own 
 strong grasp. 
 
 Mrs. Bradney looked at her daugh- 
 ter. 
 
 95
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "You! You want to marry this " 
 But her proud voice failed her for 
 a moment. "And may I ask 
 why?" 
 
 "Because I love him," flashed 
 Hilary, with quivering lips. 
 
 "Love!" Mrs. Bradney laughed, 
 but there was no smile in her glitter- 
 ing eyes. "Don't talk to me of such 
 nonsense." 
 
 "Oh, mother! didn't you love 
 father?" 
 
 There was a pause. Then Mrs. 
 Bradney said, deliberately: 
 
 "Your father was a gentleman." 
 
 Until now there had been no oppor- 
 tunity for Hugo to speak, for after his 
 first quiet statement to Mrs. Bradney 
 she had turned her back on him in 
 furious contempt of his presence. 
 
 But now he stepped toward Hilary, 
 and taking her cold hands in his, he 
 said, with an accent which had a new 
 96
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 quality of torture for the poor mother's 
 heart : 
 
 "Hilary, have I asked too much? Is 
 the sacrifice too great? I never real- 
 ized until now the meaning of it all for 
 you." 
 
 For one eternal moment he tasted 
 again all the cruelty of suspense, for 
 Hilary said nothing. She was looking 
 at him with eyes full of the long last 
 questions of the woman about to merge 
 her future in the untried current of an- 
 other life. 
 
 Then, with a little sigh, suddenly, 
 appealingly, she stretched out her flut- 
 tering hands to his strong grasp. 
 
 And after that between her mother 
 and herself there had grown up the 
 silence too bitter to be borne, and at 
 last she had gone away from home. 
 But now, since her return, the com- 
 plete change in her mother's manner 
 toward her, coupled with this new idea 
 97
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 of a trip abroad, filled her mind with 
 sudden alarms. She wrote her lover 
 long, tender letters, in which there 
 was often a vague, pathetic strain ; for 
 she felt herself adrift from the old 
 familiar moorings, and already far out 
 upon the uncertain deeps of the future. 
 
 She had her real anxieties, too, 
 about him, for beneath his light state- 
 ment that in spite of his persistent ad- 
 vertisement of himself as a brilliant 
 and epoch-making genius the world 
 did not seem to be in any feverish 
 quest of his services, she divined his 
 own real anxiety about his future. 
 
 And then at last there came a morn- 
 ing when Mrs. Bradney said, with a 
 new, hard note in her voice : 
 
 "Hilary, I find we could sail on the 
 Gascoigne on the fifteenth. I think 
 I shall write this morning to secure our 
 staterooms." 
 
 Hilary started as if she had been 
 98
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 struck. Her mother's cold, bright 
 eyes held her for a moment with a 
 kind of fascination; then she looked 
 away, and said in a low, tremulous 
 voice : 
 
 "No, mother, I can't go." 
 Mrs. Bradney said nothing. She 
 stood there, silent and controlled, 
 studying the girl's face, until Hilary 
 spoke again. 
 
 "No, mother, I don't want to go." 
 "So you have said a great many 
 times, I believe, and I have patiently 
 waited weeks for you to come to your 
 senses. It will be July now before 
 we can sail, anyway, but I will give 
 you until this evening to reconsider 
 what you have said." 
 
 It was a day of torture to Hilary, 
 and it ended with a scene so passion- 
 ate that it ruptured irrevocably the 
 exquisitely delicate relations between 
 the mother and her child. 
 99
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "You will not go? You actually 
 defy me?" 
 
 "Mother, I can't go. You know 
 you are only planning this as a means 
 of separating Hugo and me." 
 
 Hilary was white and quivering, 
 but she was as aroused now as her 
 mother. 
 
 "Yes, you are quite right about that. 
 If I could separate you in no other 
 way, I would see you in your grave 
 before I would see you his wife." 
 
 In the total collapse of her plans 
 Mrs. Bradney seemed to find a bitter 
 satisfaction in flinging the secrets of 
 them at her shrinking daughter. 
 
 "Oh, mother! Is it nothing to 
 you that I love Hugo?" 
 
 The sobs rose up in Hilary's throat. 
 ' ' Do you care nothing about my hap- 
 piness?" 
 
 "Happiness!" echoed Mrs. Brad- 
 ney, scornfully. "No, I don't care 
 
 100
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 anything about what you call your 
 happiness. Happiness! Love! When 
 you're a few years older, child, you'll 
 find it takes something more than 
 moonshine and cheap caresses to make 
 a woman happy. Another man could 
 have loved you just as prettily, and 
 have given you a fair exchange for the 
 privilege. Men are very much alike, 
 Hilary; but birth or breeding and 
 wealth and its luxuries are extenuat- 
 ing circumstances, of which you may 
 learn the value only when it is too 
 late." 
 
 "But, mother, you married father 
 just because you loved him, and he 
 was so poor then." 
 
 "Yes; but even granting that your 
 father and this this boy could be 
 compared, you are not like I was. 
 You have not the grit and the back- 
 bone to stand hardship." 
 
 Hilary's eyes glistened. "Mother," 
 
 101
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 she whispered, "I am just like you. 
 And I love Hugo." 
 
 The sweet, shy word stung her 
 mother. 
 
 "She loves him! Yes, and she will 
 be his obedient 'frau,' ready to fetch 
 and carry for her peasant lord. That's 
 the way people of his class and nation 
 think of their wives, my dear. And 
 children bah! it makes me sick." 
 
 Hilary broke down in tears. Her 
 heart cried out for her lover, but this 
 wrenching asunder of her own and her 
 mother's life was like a cruel physical 
 pain. 
 
 After this the old silence grew again 
 between them and hardened into bit- 
 terness, and Hilary began to long for 
 anything rather than this slow-drop- 
 ping torture of suspense, this endless 
 waiting for the storms which never 
 broke. The fair, delicate face, en- 
 framed in its pale gold hair, began to
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 lose the charm of its young curve, the 
 clear cheek no longer flushed into 
 elusive beauty at the sweetness of some 
 betraying thought, and the shy, pretty 
 eyes took on the wild look of a 
 hunted thing. 
 
 103
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 In the middle of the night Mrs. Bell 
 woke suddenly. She wondered why. 
 Ha! She knew why. There was a 
 man downstairs, a burglar, a blood- 
 thirsty brute. Why, she could hear 
 him plainly. The loose board in the 
 hall flooring creaked under his stealthy 
 step like a door with a cranky hinge. 
 
 Mrs. Bell lay still in an agony of 
 indecision. A week before she would 
 have known exactly what to do. She 
 would have said: "Douglas, get up! 
 There's a man downstairs." 
 
 But she knew better than to do that 
 now. For as they had walked home 
 from church on Sunday with Mr. 
 Seerley, he had strikingly described to 
 them a recent murder in St. Louis, 
 104
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 and had philosophized on the case in a 
 manner all his own. 
 
 "It's always the fool woman in the 
 business," he had insisted. "It's the 
 nature of a woman to be everlastingly 
 on the spy. Any boy that's old 
 enough to fit pants can tell you that. 
 That's why they always sleep with one 
 ear open, and naturally hear the burglar 
 first. Then it's, 'John, John, get up 
 quick! There's a man downstairs. 
 Sic him, John!' ' 
 
 He looked at Mrs. Bell with a 
 twinkle in his eye. And she was 
 afraid she blushed. And she was so 
 angry, too. Because, of course, that's 
 just what she would have done. And 
 why not, indeed? 
 
 "Now, if that woman would only 
 use her headpiece," continued Mr. 
 Seerley, "she'd know enough to lie 
 still and let John keep right on snor- 
 ing. And she'd let that burglar load 
 105
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 on all the bric-a-brac he took a fancy 
 to, and get away quietly and peace- 
 ably, when he got ready, after he'd 
 had a good, square meal in the pantry 
 and a tip-top booze in the wine-cellar. 
 Then there'd have been nobody hurt 
 and fewer things to dust next day. 
 But no! It never occurs to that 
 woman that her husband is worth more 
 than all that bric-a-brac, to say noth- 
 ing of the solid silver and all the loose 
 change in his pants pocket, until she's 
 got him shot. 
 
 "So what does this fool woman do 
 in St. Louis? She prods John in the 
 ribs until he's glad to try the tender 
 mercies of the burglar by comparison ; 
 then she jams the revolver into his 
 hand and hustles him downstairs. 
 And when he's half-way down she 
 lights up all the gas-jets in the top 
 hall, so the burglar can see just where 
 to hit, and then bang! 
 106
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 " 'Have you killed him, John?' 
 
 " 'Yes, ma'am,' says the burglar, 
 politely; and then she faints, and he 
 gets comfortably away with the bric-a- 
 brac, after all, and that's the last of 
 him. 
 
 "It's funny to me a woman can't 
 learn that a burglar's pretty sure to be 
 a dead shot, which her husband isn't, 
 no matter what he may have told her 
 to the contrary ; and secondly, that a 
 burglar doesn't want to shoot if he 
 can possibly help it. Blood isn't any 
 use to him. He wants the stuff, and 
 that's all, and if she's got any sense, 
 she'll let him have it and keep still." 
 
 But to this arrangement Mr. Bell 
 unexpectedly objected. 
 
 "Seems to me it would require quite 
 an outlay of self-control to lie still and 
 keep right along snoring while that 
 caller packed your outfit into his Sara- 
 toga in peace." 
 
 107
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Oh, I didn't say 'twas easy," pro- 
 tested Mr. Seerley, laughing; "but if 
 you think the other way's easier in the 
 long run, there's nothing to hinder 
 your trying it. But if you do that, 
 you just accept my advice, and tie a 
 feather pillow on in front of you for a 
 breast-plate. There isn't anything'll 
 shed a bullet like a feather pillow." 
 
 Every detail of this conversation 
 recurred to Mrs. Bell's mind with star- 
 tling clearness as she lay there trem- 
 bling, straining her ear to catch the 
 uncanny sounds below stairs. 
 
 But oh! she must call Douglas. 
 Why, that man would come right up 
 and shoot them in their beds. She 
 knew he would. He'd even shoot 
 Laurie sweet, innocent, babbling lit- 
 tle Laurie. 
 
 No, he wouldn't. Mr. Seerley said 
 they never did, if you just let them 
 alone and didn't interfere with them. 
 108
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 But oh, listen ! She was certain he was 
 grabbing all the silver off the side- 
 board. Her housewifely soul took 
 flame; in her anguish she whispered 
 ever so gently, "Douglas! Douglas!" 
 
 But Douglas lay dumb as a door- 
 mat to her terrors. He didn't even 
 afford his family the protection of a 
 snore. Smarting under a sense of in- 
 jury that she, poor little lonely woman, 
 should be sole guardian of their hearth 
 and home, she stretched out her hand 
 to give Douglas a warning pinch in 
 the darkness. But no ! She snatched 
 it back. She would be noble, and 
 walk in the way of wisdom as outlined 
 by Mr. Seerley. 
 
 And let all her silver be calmly ap- 
 propriated by a red-handed villain 
 without so much as a protest ? 
 
 Never! 
 
 She might have to die, to be sure, 
 but she wasn't going to let that man 
 109
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 have it all his own way, at any 
 rate. 
 
 She slipped softly out of bed, and 
 then she remembered the pillow. 
 With shaking hands she tied it on to 
 herself, and thus equipped she stole 
 out of the room with a feather duster 
 in one hand and a pitcher of water in 
 the other. She had always known she 
 was a coward, but she had never real- 
 ized she could get so horribly fright- 
 ened as she was now. She was nearly 
 smothered by the pillow, too. Still, 
 as she got used to it, it was wonderful 
 what a sense of protection it gave. 
 At last she reached the dining-room 
 on legs that threatened momentarily to 
 give way beneath her. But there was 
 no one there. Even in the darkness 
 she was sure of that. 
 
 She was getting braver. With 
 hardly more than half a tremor she 
 opened the door which led into the
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 little passage between the dining-room 
 and kitchen. 
 
 And then she was instantly con- 
 fronted by a broad beam of light which 
 streamed out at her from underneath 
 the kitchen door. 
 
 She choked with terror, but without 
 an instant's hesitation she opened it 
 and stepped into the brightly lighted 
 kitchen. 
 
 There at the table sat a tramp in 
 active enjoyment of the ample meal he 
 had gathered about him. Before he 
 could collect his wits Mrs. Bell was 
 upon him with the water-pitcher and 
 the feather duster. 
 
 "Oh, you bad man !" she exclaimed. 
 "How dare you? Go away! Go 
 away at once! Aren't you ashamed 
 of yourself, breaking into people's 
 houses in the middle of the night like 
 this?" 
 
 "See here, ma'am, don't ye take on
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 so," said the man, earnestly. "I 
 didn't break in. I just walked in. 
 The door wasn't locked. I was 
 hungry awful hungry. Perhaps you 
 ain't never felt that way." 
 
 He had risen and stood towering in 
 front of her like a big abashed school- 
 boy caught in the act. 
 
 Mrs. Bell faced him sturdily, the 
 severity in her face gradually relaxing 
 as they talked until finally she looked 
 as sweet and sympathetic as if she were 
 listening to her best friend's tale of 
 woe. And she had never felt less 
 afraid of anything than she did of 
 that man from the moment he spoke 
 to her. She forgot entirely that her 
 toilet consisted of one pretty pink 
 night-dress and one feather pillow. If 
 the fashion struck the burglar as unus- 
 ual, he at least had the grace to take 
 it seriously. 
 
 "Well, if you 're hungry," said Mrs.
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Bell, "sit down and finish your meal. 
 And eat all you can." 
 
 But he looked suspiciously at the 
 door behind her. 
 
 "No, you needn't be afraid. 
 Nobody else is awake. And besides, 
 no one would hurt you here. This is 
 the minister's house. You say that 
 nobody has been willing to give you 
 anything to eat all day. I'm sorry 
 you didn't happen to come here. I 
 always tell Jeanie that as long as we 
 have food ourselves we must share it 
 with any one who has not." 
 
 The tramp looked up at her with the 
 frank smile of a boy. 
 
 "N'yit that little Scotch gal o' 
 yourn near chawed the head off'n 
 me to-day 'cause I asked her for a 
 bite. That's why I was so dead 
 tickled to-night when I found the 
 door 'd been left open an* the pantry 
 so full." 
 
 "3
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Oh, Jeanie, Jeanie!" mourned 
 Mrs. Bell. "I'm so sorry." 
 
 She had all the air now of the most 
 solicitous hostess, and as she said 
 afterward, she never entertained a 
 guest in her life whom she took such 
 solid comfort in feeding. 
 
 And while he fed she talked to him 
 like his grandmother. She speedily 
 unearthed his family history, and dis- 
 cussed it with a sympathetic interest 
 which melted the villain's soul within 
 him. 
 
 "It's all come from your quarreling 
 with Susan Moore," she concluded at 
 length. "Now you'd better go right 
 back and tell her you're sorry, and 
 begin all o " 
 
 Just here the door opened and Mr. 
 Bell walked in. As long as he lived 
 he would remember the spectacle 
 upon which his eyes alighted. But 
 before he could adequately grasp all 
 114
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 its various details there was a kaleido- 
 scopic change in the situation, and the 
 " burglar" had vanished into the dark- 
 ness of night. 
 
 "Oh, Douglas!" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Bell, reproachfully. "How could you? 
 And I never said good by to him. 
 And I did want to give him some more 
 advice so badly. Poor man! I don't 
 believe Susan Moore understands him 
 one bit." 
 
 Mr. Bell promptly locked the kitchen 
 door after the speeding guest. Then 
 he sat down on a chair and began to 
 laugh. And the longer he looked at 
 Mrs. Bell the louder he laughed. 
 
 "Well, Betty," he gurgled at last, 
 "if I were you, I'd undo the pillow 
 and lay down the duster." 
 
 Mrs. Bell gasped. 
 
 "Oh, Douglas, I forgot all about 
 the pillow! Oh, what a sight I look! 
 Why, what did that man think? Oh, 
 "5
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 I'm so ashamed! But I was so fright- 
 ened I forgot everything. You know 
 I heard him. And Mr. Seerley you 
 remember?" 
 
 Mr. Bell's eyes softened. 
 
 "Oh, you poor little woman! Why, 
 Betty, there isn't a cowardly bone in 
 your body. You wee bit of a brave 
 woman!" 
 
 "Oh, yes, Douglas, there is! You 
 can't think how frightened I was. I 
 thought I'd die when I saw the light 
 under the kitchen door. But that poor 
 man! He was so hungry. He ate 
 like a boy at a church supper. Oh, I 
 wish you hadn't come quite so soon! 
 There were some things I did want to 
 tell him so badly. I'd just enjoy 
 talking to that Susan Moore. She 
 doesn't begin to love him like she 
 ought." 
 
 Mr. Bell had another paroxysm all 
 to himself. 
 
 116
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 " Betty," he said at last, solemnly 
 enough, "if that fellow ever forgets 
 the sermon you've preached to him 
 to-night, his soul isn't worth worrying 
 about. He's seen the bravest, truest, 
 kindest little woman he's ever likely 
 to meet in this world, and I don't 
 believe he will forget it. ' ' 
 
 "Or the pillow, either," he added 
 presently, with another burst of merri- 
 ment. "But say, Betty, the next time 
 you hear a burglar, never mind Seer- 
 ley. You just punch me awake to a 
 sense of my duty. I'd like a show 
 occasionally." 
 
 "I don't know, Douglas," she an- 
 swered, doubtfully. "I don't believe 
 you're very sympathetic, dear." 
 
 "No, I don't believe I am, for a 
 fact. I guess this fellow can thank 
 his stars he was entertained at supper 
 by my wife and not by me." 
 
 "Now, Douglas " 
 117
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "All right, dear. You're the pluck- 
 iest little woman on top of the earth, 
 and I'm the proudest man. But next 
 time you punch me." 
 
 118
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Out in the warm sunshine summer 
 was silently preparing its splendid exit 
 in a hundred shades of scarlet and 
 gold. Beneath the hazy sky late 
 lingering fruits mellowed into purple 
 and crimson, and the grain-crested 
 fields yielded to the eager reaper their 
 golden abundance. But the breath of 
 change was in the scented air, still 
 thrilling with the drowsy note of bees 
 and brilliant with the flight of unwea- 
 ried wings. For beyond the rosy 
 clouds were banked the cold snows of 
 the long sleep into which nature was 
 so soon to sink. 
 
 Mrs. Bradney shivered, but she was 
 not thinking of the coming winter's 
 chill ; her hurrying thoughts were busy 
 119
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 with visions of herself alone in the 
 great house, with its echoing memories 
 of weary feet long rested and the 
 silenced music of clear childish voices, 
 sweet and high. 
 
 And Hilary, the last of them all, 
 was Hilary to defy her, to set at 
 naught all the proud traditions of her 
 name and place? An angry sob 
 choked her throat. Hilary to marry 
 that boy, the son of her dead father's 
 foreman! She repeated the words 
 slowly, cruelly, to herself. She felt a 
 desperate satisfaction in the sting of 
 them. 
 
 A letter lay before her, which she 
 had received that morning, and though 
 her first impulse had been to destroy 
 it unopened, she had ended by reading 
 it greedily. 
 
 " MY DEAR MRS. BRADNEY: 
 
 " Your daughter and I, as you are aware, have 
 now been engaged for a long time. It is more
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 than a year since I have seen her, and as I 
 intend to be in Sand Harbor shortly, I write to 
 ask your permission to call upon her as her 
 accepted and acknowledged future husband. 
 "Yours faithfully, 
 
 " HUGO HESSEMER." 
 
 The letter had a malign fascination 
 for her now. She read it again and 
 again, each time lashing herself into 
 fresh agony over the outrageous pre- 
 sumption which had inspired it. But 
 her answer met the case adequately, 
 she thought. 
 
 "Ma. HUGO HESSEMER, 
 
 "Sir: If at the end of three or four years 
 you have actually proved yourself to be all that 
 you apparently presume yourself to be now, I 
 may then possibly consider your fitness for a 
 marriage with my daughter. But until then I 
 must refuse any further consideration of the 
 matter. Yours truly, 
 
 "ORELLA BRADNEY." 
 
 Of course, she did not mention this 
 correspondence to Hilary. But, natu- 
 rally enough, the girl did not long
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 remain in ignorance of it. For Mrs. 
 Bradney's letter, coupled with the fact 
 that he was at last actually appointed 
 to the professorship which he had been 
 secretly coveting, pricked the young 
 lover into immediate plans for that 
 which he had hitherto regarded only 
 as the fleeting fabric of vague, delicious 
 dreams. 
 
 "I have written again to your 
 mother," he wrote, "and have told 
 her that unless she will give me the 
 opportunity of meeting you openly in 
 your home, without any resort to 
 clandestine stratagems, I shall put an 
 end to this unbearable situation by 
 taking you away with me, my wife, 
 when I come to Sand Harbor. My 
 darling, it would be hard for you, not 
 what you have been used to, but if 
 love can atone " 
 
 Ah, the cherished sweetness of those 
 letters! Into the arid unloveliness of 
 122
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 the girl's life there flooded now all the 
 intoxicating tender madness of a lover's 
 ecstasy, and what chance had the poor 
 battling mother against the radiant 
 glow which melted all the bonds she 
 had spent a lifetime in forging about 
 her child? 
 
 And yet Hilary had never longed 
 for her mother's affection and sympa- 
 thy as she did now, since there had 
 arisen in her life this new supremacy 
 with all its sweet coercive mystery. 
 It had come upon her so silently, so 
 suddenly, and she had striven at first 
 to ignore it, and then she had toyed 
 with it, refusing to believe that she 
 need ever take it seriously. 
 
 But all the time she had vaguely 
 known herself in the grip of a power 
 stronger than her own purposes; and 
 now with Hugo's firm resolve staring 
 her in the face, she knew that the part- 
 ing of the ways had come, and she 
 123
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 grew sick and white with helpless mis- 
 ery. For until this trouble her mother 
 had always obtained from her the un- 
 questioning obedience of a child un- 
 awakened to a consciousness of its own 
 separate selfhood, and the habit of a 
 lifetime died hard. 
 
 After this the days fairly flew, until 
 winter lay white upon a dead world, 
 and Laurie Bell celebrated his birthday 
 in a blizzard which drove the furious 
 spray-horses far up on the bleak shore. 
 To his family it seemed an event of 
 great importance, but he himself 
 thought little of it, though he took to 
 the drum presented to him by Mrs. 
 Bradney in honor of the occasion, 
 with an ability which his father after- 
 ward regretted. 
 
 But even a blizzard has its fitting 
 
 limitations, and to one young man, 
 
 stiffly breasting its fury on his way to 
 
 the parsonage, it might have been but 
 
 124
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 the light breath of spring among the 
 fluttering blossoms. For the marriage 
 joy was in his heart; the entrancing 
 dreams of his loneliness were about to 
 make themselves real in his life. As 
 he strode along his thoughts crowded 
 back over the far years, and it seemed 
 to him in his covetous remembrance of 
 Hilary that he had always loved her, 
 and he wondered how there ever could 
 have been a time when he had not 
 consciously known it. 
 
 Jeanie admitted him to the parson- 
 age grudgingly. Indeed, he thought 
 she must have taken his measure for 
 the exact crack of entrance allowed 
 him. 
 
 "Mr. Bell? No, sir; he's not at 
 home. And I don't think, he will 
 be not for an hour, anyway, ' ' added 
 Jeanie, unwillingly truthful upon 
 reflection. "Mrs. Bell? Yes, sir; I 
 think you can see her." 
 125
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "It's him," she announced, impor- 
 tantly, to Mrs. Bell. "And he'll see 
 you . 
 
 Her face was purple with excite- 
 ment, for it meant a great deal to 
 Jeanie to have been face to face with 
 the "villain" of the most notable love- 
 story Sand Harbor had ever known. 
 
 "Him!" Jeanie's look was portent- 
 ous, and Mrs. Bell violently revised 
 in her mind every male she could think 
 of, from Satan down to the senior 
 deacon. "Now, Jeanie " 
 
 "Yes, ma'am; but his looks is de- 
 ceivin'. I'll say that." 
 
 "Jeanie, who is the " 
 
 "Oh, he's brave-lookin'. I'll not 
 deny it. But Dutch ugh!" Jeanie 
 looked as if she had just stepped on a 
 cockroach. 
 
 "Oh!" There was a world of compre- 
 hension in Mrs. Bell's voice. "Yes, 
 Jeanie ; but he's not ' Dutch, ' asyou call 
 126
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 it. He's an American, which, you know, 
 you are not, and which everybody else 
 knows who hears you talk." 
 
 "I am sorry my husband is not at 
 home/' said Mrs. Bell, presently, eye- 
 ing the young man with interest. "Do 
 you wish me to give him some mes- 
 sage?" 
 
 "Yes, I think so. Will you ask 
 him my errand is " He hesitated 
 in sudden embarrassment. 
 
 "Something to do with Miss Brad- 
 ney." 
 
 Mrs. Bell found it quite impossible 
 to resist the temptation of venturing 
 this remark. 
 
 "Yes. I wanted to ask Mr. Bell to 
 officiate at the marriage of Miss Brad- 
 ney and myself on Wednesday after- 
 noon." 
 
 "Where?" inquired Mrs. Bell, point- 
 edly. 
 
 The young man's face colored hotly. 
 127
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "I don't know. We never thought 
 about that. I will let you know." 
 
 Mrs. Bell ruminated a moment. 
 Then she said: 
 
 "It's dreadful, you know. I don't 
 see how you're going to be happy. 
 For, after all, your mother is always 
 your mother." 
 
 "Well, I should say she was!" 
 
 "Oh! I mean her mother is. Of 
 course, it's all wonderful to you both 
 now, but don't you see, there may 
 come a time oh! why do you want 
 to marry Miss Bradney, anyway?" 
 concluded Mrs. Bell, unexpectedly, 
 and as she realized a moment later, 
 quite idiotically. 
 
 "For the same reason, I suppose, 
 that your husband wanted to marry 
 you," replied the young man, 
 promptly, albeit a trifle stiffly. 
 
 Such a pretty little flush dawned in 
 Mrs. Bell's cheek. 
 
 128
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 After all, though she was sure that 
 her sympathies all belonged to Mrs. 
 Bradney, Mrs. Bell could not help 
 thinking, as she studied Hugo Hes- 
 semer, that it would be strange if the 
 girl he elected to love did not love him 
 in return. 
 
 ''Can't you tell me about it," she 
 said, impulsively. "I'm sorry for all 
 of you, but I know too little about it 
 to be any help to any of you now. 
 Mrs. Bradney has never even men- 
 tioned the matter to me, and though I 
 have often felt sorry for Miss Bradney, 
 yet I did not know what to say." 
 
 It was the first sympathetic remark 
 the young fellow had heard in his 
 home town about his turbulent love 
 affair, and his heart melted to this win- 
 ning little woman ; and he told her his 
 story simply, but so effectively, that 
 when Mr. Bell reached home he was 
 met at the door by a flying little 
 129
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 fury with a mouth full of indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 "Oh, Douglas, he's been here! Oh, 
 you'll just like him! He's a fine fel- 
 low. Why, Hugo Hessemer, of course. 
 It's been awful. They want you to 
 marry them on Wednesday afternoon. 
 That poor girl! It's just because she 
 can't stand it any more. They don't 
 really want to get married now, you 
 know." 
 
 "Dear me! How remarkably self- 
 sacrificing of them to do it, then." 
 
 It is perhaps a fact that a woman 
 can be enthusiastic over any marriage ; 
 a man only over his own. 
 
 "Yes, it's like this, Douglas. Mrs. 
 Bradney won't let him call there or 
 anything, you see." 
 
 "Thou shalt not call. Thou shalt 
 not kiss, " repeated Mr. Bell, pensively. 
 
 "No, Douglas, that's not nice of 
 you. That's always the way with a 
 130
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 man a married man. And after the 
 way they once talked, too!" 
 
 But while they were still warring 
 on this point, Jeanie ushered Mrs. 
 Bradney in upon them. 
 
 "Has Hugo Hessemer been here to 
 ask you to marry him to my daughter?' ' 
 she asked, without any preliminary 
 conventions whatever. 
 
 "Yes, he has," admitted Mr. Bell, 
 slowly. 
 
 "Then I absolutely forbid your 
 doing any such thing." Mrs. Brad- 
 ney's eyes snapped. 
 
 "Will that prevent the marriage?" 
 asked Mr. Bell, quietly. 
 
 "No, I suppose not. But I don't 
 choose that the minister of my church 
 should perform any such ceremony as 
 that." 
 
 "Your daughter is a member of my 
 church. And if she is determined to 
 get married, Mrs. Bradney, do you
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 consider that I should be doing my 
 duty in turning her out, for the most 
 sacred ceremony of her life, to any 
 stray minister she might thus be 
 forced to accept?" 
 
 "Very well," said Mrs. Bradney, 
 fiercely, as she swept out. "I had 
 expected something better of you than 
 this. It is a fine example of obedience 
 to their parents to encourage in our 
 young people." 
 
 She had been gone from home such 
 a little while that Hilary had not 
 guessed her absence; and when she 
 returned to the sitting-room, they 
 passed the long evening together in 
 their accustomed silence until the girl 
 rose to go upstairs. She half crossed 
 the room, then she turned back, with 
 a beseeching look at her mother. But 
 Mrs. Bradney was absorbed in her 
 book. Something in it amused her, 
 and she smiled, at least her lips did. 
 132
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Mother," said Hilary, in a trem- 
 bling voice, "would you object to my 
 being married here on Wednesday 
 afternoon?" 
 
 Mrs. Bradney carefully finished her 
 sentence, then she looked up, with 
 the dazed expression of a preoccupied 
 person. 
 
 "What was it you said, child? I 
 really didn't hear." Yet every word 
 had fallen on her heart like a drop of 
 liquid fire. 
 
 "Would you object if I were mar- 
 ried here, mother?" Hilary's voice 
 was barely audible now. 
 
 "I? object? Of course not, my dear. 
 Why should I ? Certainly, be married 
 here, by all means, if it suits you." 
 
 Hilary broke into sobs, and turned 
 away. But at the door her mother's 
 voice held her. 
 
 "Let me see. The father's dead, 
 isn't he? but hasn't the boy an old 
 '33
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 mother? Why, yes; I remember her 
 years ago ; quite a tidy-looking person. 
 I dare say she's fond of this boy of hers, 
 poor thing, and would like to see him 
 married. I should think you would 
 ask her in, Hilary." 
 
 "I would never ask her here, 
 mother, unless I was certain that she 
 would be treated respectfully," said 
 Hilary, choking back the sobs in her 
 throat. 
 
 ' ' I really don't know just who would 
 trouble themselves to treat her disre- 
 spectfully, Hilary, and as she need be 
 here only about fifteen minutes, I 
 don't quite see how any one would 
 have a chance." 
 
 Hilary broke into a passion of tears, 
 and went on to her room. She could 
 hope for no relenting after this. Death 
 itself could not have parted her from 
 her mother as they were parted now. 
 
 The next afternoon she went into
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 the town to make some last purchases, 
 and on her way home Hugo overtook 
 her. As they walked up the hill to- 
 gether, Mrs. Bradney was driven 
 toward them, splendid and solitary 
 among her piled-up furs. But as 
 she was swept past them her face 
 wore the cold impersonality of a 
 sphinx. 
 
 That night Hilary could not sleep. 
 Her mind was tense with the awe of 
 coming change. After all, would he 
 always love her? And why had he 
 loved her to begin with? She could 
 find nothing in herself to justify his 
 passion. Would he not some day find 
 that out, too? Her heart revised the 
 memory of her mother's tenderness in 
 the long years before this other love 
 had come to claim the supreme place 
 in her life, and it seemed to her 
 that her mother had never been so 
 dear to her as she was now, in this
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 moment of their bitterest estrange- 
 ment. 
 
 And yet, how well she realized the 
 irrevocableness of her detachment 
 from the home around which her 
 interests had always centered until 
 now. Already she had found herself 
 looking at her room from distant eyes, 
 wondering how it would seem when her 
 presence had become but a memory 
 within its silent walls. 
 
 As she lay there, thinking, she was 
 startled by a sound which repeated 
 itself insistently in her ears a sharp, 
 passionate sound, broken by smoth- 
 ered moans. She stepped impulsively 
 across the room to the door which 
 separated her from her mother; but 
 though she stood there a long time 
 trembling in the darkness, shivering 
 with a terror which was partly shame 
 that she should hear at all, yet she 
 dared not go in ; and when at last she 
 136
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 crept back into bed again, she felt as if 
 she had received an agonized baptism 
 into her mother's grief. 
 
 But the next afternoon at five 
 o'clock she was married to Hugo 
 Hessemer; and though at the last mo- 
 ment Mrs. Bradney came into the 
 room, and stood there, pale and proud, 
 during the ceremony, yet even when 
 Hilary kissed her at parting, blind with 
 the tears which came so fast, the 
 mother's still face betrayed no 
 pang. 
 
 On their way to the depot they 
 stopped to say good by to the "boy's 
 old mother." She had been eagerly 
 awaiting them, and drew them into 
 the house, with tender words of 
 greeting, which, under the stress of 
 her emotion, lapsed every now and 
 then into the German of her child- 
 hood. 
 
 "Ach, meine liebe," she said to
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Hilary, "I speak, also can I think in 
 English, but I feel in German. Look 
 once ! I have been keeping the sacred 
 time all to myself." She pointed to 
 the Bible lying open on the table, the 
 yellow little old Bible out of which she 
 had learned ' ' Der Herr ist mein Hirte, ' ' 
 long ago when she was a merry little 
 maiden among the purple vineyards of 
 the Rhine. She looked with wistful 
 eyes at her boy's fair young bride, and 
 then laying her worn hands on his 
 broad shoulders, she said, with tender 
 solemnity: 
 
 "Mein Hugo, you do take her 
 young life into your care. What the 
 mutter has always been to her, must 
 you now be, but yet more. Hugo, I 
 once had a little madchen of my own, 
 but God took her. I have thought 
 to-day how it would be if this was my 
 Elsa's marriage. And I know what I 
 for her would ask. My boy, it is not 
 138
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 only love a woman must have honor 
 from her husband." 
 
 Then with a quaint, appealing ges- 
 ture she turned to Hilary. 
 
 ' ' My dear, he is all I have ; I give 
 him to you." 
 
 The girl bent impulsively to kiss her 
 with eyes full of tears ; and then look- 
 ing at the homely old face, so beauti- 
 ful in expression, she did not wonder 
 that she had loved the son of such a 
 mother. 
 
 And afterward, among all the angry, 
 jarring memories of her marriage, 
 Hilary counted as its consecrating mo- 
 ment the mother's tender benediction 
 to them in parting: "The Lord bless 
 thee and keep thee; the Lord cause 
 His face to shine upon thee, and give 
 thee peace." 
 
 As it grew dark the wind rose, and 
 the snow flew like chaff before the
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 sweeping gusts. The streets were 
 deserted, for it was a night when the 
 meanest home seemed a haven. 
 
 And as the mistress of the Hill 
 House toiled by, on her long, lonely 
 way to the depot, she caught glimpses 
 of happy families and blazing hearths, 
 and the sounds of simple homely joys 
 smote her ear with cruel significance. 
 She was fiercely thankful for the 
 storm against which she fought her 
 way, for its fury was her protection 
 against prying eyes and bitter tongues. 
 Already in the echoing distance she 
 heard the swelling whistle of the train, 
 and she spurred her wearying steps 
 into reckless haste. Oh, why had she 
 not thought of it sooner! 
 
 But she was there at last, and 
 shrinking like a frightened shadow into 
 the shrouding darkness of the depot, 
 she waited for the last glimpse of her 
 child. 
 
 140
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 The long, cruel lines thundered be- 
 neath the nearing train; the waiting- 
 room door was flung open, and Hilary 
 stepped into the broad band of yellow 
 light. Beyond, in the darkness, the 
 fierce mother-eyes greedily licked up 
 the smile with which the girl lifted her 
 happy face to meet her proud young 
 husband's glance as he handed her up 
 the steps ; and then the child was gone, 
 away into a strange new world of her 
 own, in which her mother had no 
 place. 
 
 The next morning, Vandelia, bus- 
 tling into the sitting-room to open the 
 windows to the dull, belated dawn, 
 found Mrs. Bradney on her knees be- 
 fore the dead fire, staring with glassy 
 eyes at the blackened remnants of a 
 pair of baby's shoes. 
 
 She had burned her child's past be- 
 hind her. 
 
 141
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 "Laurie, Laurie!" cried Mrs. Bell, 
 anxiously. "Laurie, where are you?" 
 
 But the prudent Laurie made no 
 reply, and then Mrs. Bell knew that 
 he was engaged in criminal pursuits. 
 
 "I quite suppose he's in the pansy- 
 bed again," thought Jeanie, as she 
 viciously kneaded the bread. "But 
 I know I shan't mention it." 
 
 Yes, there he was, seated in the 
 very midst of it, with forlorn rows of 
 uprooted pansies all around him, which 
 he had begun rapidly to replant root 
 end up as soon as he heard his moth- 
 er's voice. When he looked up and 
 saw her beside him, he began to cry. 
 
 "I ain't naudy boy; I ain't durdy 
 boy, ' ' he wailed, all the time crowding 
 142
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 little heaps of plants back into the 
 ground heads foremost. 
 
 This was fearful. For it was not 
 the first time he had done this thing; 
 it was about the five-and-twentieth. 
 Time and time again Mrs. Bell had 
 weakly hoped the pansies would die, 
 and so relieve her of a problem she 
 could not solve; but the persistent lit- 
 tle things bobbed into bloom again, 
 apparently under the impression that 
 something very extra was required of 
 them, in return for all the attention 
 they got. 
 
 The first time he had pulled them 
 up Mrs. Bell sat down beside him on 
 the grass, and talked beautifully to him 
 about the flower babies, who were try- 
 ing to grow, and Laurie enjoyed it 
 very much, and was so sweet that she 
 kissed him a great many times! 
 
 The second time she was surprised 
 and grieved, and said some things 
 H3
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 which impressed him seriously, and he 
 was sure he was going to be good. 
 
 The third time she tied him to a 
 tree, close to the suffering pansies, 
 that he might study their wilted 
 aspect, and truly repent, but the rope 
 was long, and he climbed the tree, 
 and played that he was a "father-bird" 
 building a nest, and she was so thank- 
 ful when Mr. Bell got him down alive 
 that she forgot all about his morals, 
 and Laurie escaped, with a consolingly 
 vague impression that he had been a 
 hero anyway. 
 
 The fourth time his mother tied him 
 to his bed, being suddenly convinced 
 that solitary confinement was the 
 thing adapted to his case; but he 
 crawled into bed as far as his captive 
 little leg would let him, and fell asleep, 
 and when she found him there, with 
 his flushed baby face all wet with 
 tears, her heart misgave her, and she 
 144
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 gently untied the cord and put it far 
 out of sight, and sat down beside him 
 and watched him with tender, brood- 
 ing eyes until he awoke, with a con- 
 science apparently quite free from any 
 irksome stains of guilt. 
 
 "A hipmapossamus, " he remarked, 
 with delightful irrelevance to the occa- 
 sion in hand, "is a big fiss. Poor hip- 
 mapossamus! He has to stay in the 
 water all the time, and he gets all 
 soaking wet." 
 
 But half an hour later the pansies 
 were all upside down again, and then 
 Mrs. Bell prayed with him. But the 
 effect of that was not just what she 
 sought, for when she got through, 
 Laurie promptly followed her with 
 "Now I lay me down to sleep," in 
 a tone of voice which was a ridiculously 
 exact imitation of her own fervid utter- 
 ance. 
 
 The next time she whipped him. 
 H5
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 She had never expected or intended 
 that any child of hers should be 
 whipped, but she was distracted now 
 by the utter simplicity of the difficulty. 
 Here was a little child who loved flow- 
 ers, and understood perfectly what he 
 was told about them ; and yet she had 
 completely failed thus far to teach him 
 to leave them alone and let them live. 
 She asked several of the mothers in 
 Israel what they would do about it, 
 but beyond shaking their heads por- 
 tentously and remarking, "Oh, you 
 must really break him of the habit at 
 once, Mrs. Bell," they had nothing 
 vital to offer. 
 
 On this particular afternoon Mrs. 
 Bell sat down among the pansies and 
 wept, while Laurie tenderly mopped 
 up her tears with a handkerchief which 
 had certainly seen its cleaner days. 
 
 Then a sudden resolve came to her. 
 "I will go up and talk to Mrs. Brad- 
 146
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ney about it," she thought. "She 
 has more sense than anybody else." 
 
 She took Laurie into the house with 
 her, and stood him with his face to the 
 wall while she got ready. After 
 a while he said to her, with the grave 
 sweetness which always revived hope 
 in her bosom : 
 
 "Mamma, does God know what we 
 are thinking about, always, without our 
 telling Him?" 
 
 "Yes, Laurie." 
 
 "Well, then, mamma, He knows that 
 I thought just now what a very, very 
 good boy I am always going to be after 
 this; and I am sure He thinks I ought 
 to be let out of this corner right away, 
 when I know I am going to be such a 
 good, good boy." 
 
 His mother made no reply to this 
 bald suggestion; but it took a great 
 deal to discourage Laurie, and after 
 some further meditation, he remarked :
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "It is so much better to be good, 
 'cause then your heart beats so smoove 
 and soft." 
 
 Mrs. Bell sighed. She felt that it 
 would be much easier to train Laurie 
 up in the way he should go if he had 
 not been quite so much like the little 
 girl who had a little curl. 
 
 The continued intimacy between 
 Mrs. Bradney and Mrs. Bell was some- 
 thing which puzzled Sand Harbor a 
 good deal. For somehow it had leaked 
 out that in performing that wedding 
 ceremony Mr. Bell had run directly 
 counter to Mrs. Bradney's express 
 desire; and in the three years follow- 
 ing it she had not once crossed the 
 threshold of the church. But to the 
 two women themselves there was no 
 mystery about it. There dwelt always 
 between them the memory of that 
 night when Vandelia had run breath- 
 lessly down to the parsonage to say 
 148
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 that her mistress had lain all day with- 
 out speaking, or noticing the food 
 which had been offered to her. That 
 was the day after Hilary's wedding, 
 and for once Vandelia was at her wits' 
 ends. She knew Mrs. Bradney's tem- 
 per too well to risk calling in a doctor 
 on her own responsibility, and as for 
 appealing to any of the old family 
 friends Vandelia sniffed! What a 
 fine story it would be for the gossips! 
 But there was the minister; he already 
 knew all about it ; she could make no 
 mistake in consulting him. 
 
 And then Mrs. Bell had said, decid- 
 edly: 
 
 "I will go back with Vandelia, 
 Douglas." 
 
 "You? But what can you do, 
 Betty?" 
 
 "I don't know, but I can find out." 
 
 When she went quietly into the room 
 Mrs. Bradney turned her eyes upon 
 149
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 her and looked at her in silence. But 
 at last she said, harshly, "Why are 
 you here?" 
 
 Mrs. Bell thought a moment. Then 
 she said, in the most matter-of-fact 
 manner: "I'm sure I don't know. 
 But I do know that for such a capable 
 woman, Vandelia seems to understand 
 very little about sickness. Why, she 
 doesn't appear to have even the apol- 
 ogy for an idea. Here I come in and 
 find a whole dinner, rank enough for a 
 day-laborer, waiting for you to devour. 
 Now, you're feverish with that awful 
 cold, and of course you can't eat. But 
 I told Vandelia she could bring up 
 some tea and toast for us both pres- 
 ently, for I haven't had any supper 
 yet. It's certainly much easier to 
 live with things than with people in 
 this world. I wish you could have 
 heard Mrs. De Lent this afternoon. 
 She came in just as we were going to 
 150
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 sit down to the table. Wouldn't she 
 take supper with us? Oh, no, my 
 dear Mrs. Bell! She would only keep 
 me one little minute. Well, old 
 Father Time would still be in long 
 clothes if Mrs. De Lent's conception 
 of minutes ruled the mathematical 
 destinies of the universe. She had a 
 most extended list of questions to dis- 
 cuss with me. To begin with, she 
 was surprised to find I hadn't joined 
 the club. Why> didn't I know there 
 was nothing so enervating as the club? 
 I said, gravely enough, I was sure there 
 wasn't. Then the choir. Now that 
 woman doesn't know any more about 
 music than a pig does of Sunday. 
 She couldn't tell a note from a fly- 
 speck to save her life ; but to hear her 
 talk you'd think she'd been born with 
 a baton in her hand, ready to beat 
 time for Beethoven himself. Trumpet 
 solo by the Angel Gabriel, conducted
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 by Mrs. De Lent. That's her idea of 
 heaven, you may be sure. She told 
 me her nature was so perfectly in tune 
 with the music of the spheres that she 
 could no more help singing right than 
 the birds can. After a while it got 
 through my thick intellect what that 
 poor thing wanted. Now what do you 
 suppose?" 
 
 "I don't know," said Mrs. Bradney, 
 feebly, but there was the faintest smile 
 on her wan face. 
 
 "Why, of course she wants to be 
 soprano in our choir. And did you 
 ever have the privilege of hearing her 
 sing? I've never heard a cow sing 
 myself, but isn't there some old 
 English poet who says they do, every 
 Christmas Eve at midnight? Now, 
 my own opinion is that the cow he 
 heard was Mrs. De Lent in a previous 
 incarnation. She told me the other 
 day that she distinctly remembered 
 152
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 herself two or three thousand years 
 ago. She was a man then, a warrior 
 bold, but she was killed treacherously, 
 stabbed in the back, and she can still 
 feel the point of that cruel dagger as 
 it plunged into her flesh. That ac- 
 counts for her being so very nervous 
 now. She has never recovered from 
 that shock." 
 
 When Vandelia brought in the tea, 
 she was amazed to find the two women 
 laughing. 
 
 "And yet," continued Mrs. Bell, 
 ' ' Mrs. De Lent isn't such a bad woman. 
 Twins and poverty might have done a 
 good deal for her ; but as it is, she has 
 all the time and money she can use to 
 make a fool of herself with." 
 
 So Mrs. Bell rattled on, but before 
 she went home that night she had 
 subtly restored Mrs. Bradney's sense 
 of dignity to the perpendicular, and 
 had forged between them both a bond
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 of sympathy which neither ever 
 strained by a spoken word. Not that 
 Mrs. Bradney for one moment misin- 
 terpreted Mrs. Bell's attitude as to 
 Hilary's marriage. It is even likely 
 that as time went on she grew to have 
 a quite unconscious satisfaction in 
 this friendship, just because she knew 
 the little woman was such a stanch 
 advocate of her daughter's rights in 
 regard to the man she loved. But 
 they never spoke of Hilary. 
 
 "She knows what I think quite 
 well," said Mrs. Bell to her husband; 
 "and she knows I'm right, too. But 
 she wouldn't if we once began to talk 
 about it. Oh, Douglas, you would 
 just die to hear her talk to me about 
 Laurie. She's so anxious for me to 
 be wise about training him." 
 
 "So, now, what would you do, Mrs. 
 Bradney?" asked Mrs. Bell that after- 
 noon, after she had stated the case of 
 '54
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 the pansies and herself versus Laurie. 
 "Why have I failed so utterly to make 
 him obedient? Just in this one thing, 
 though. In every other way he is so 
 good." 
 
 They talked it over for a long time, 
 but Mrs. Bell went home feeling that 
 after all Mrs. Bradney's thoughts had 
 been outside the discussion, and that 
 she was not consciously nearer to any 
 solution of her difficulty. But that 
 evening, after they had finished sup- 
 per, and Laurie had sweetly crooned 
 himself to sleep with his own peculiar 
 version 
 
 " My bonnet lies over the ocean, 
 My bonnet lies over the sea, 
 My bonnet lies over the ocean, 
 Oh, bring back my bonnet to me." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney came in, "just for a 
 minute," she said. Her face looked 
 old and strained, and she began 
 to talk at once, rapidly and nervous-
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ly, as much to Mr. Bell as to his 
 wife. 
 
 "About Laurie. I've been thinking 
 of it ever since. It worried me. You 
 say you have tried everything to break 
 him of it. Yes; but there is some- 
 thing else. Temptation is a good 
 thing, I suppose, but not under all 
 conditions. A man struggling not to 
 drink we should not think it a 
 good thing to hem him in with 
 saloons." 
 
 "Oh, but that would be giving in 
 to the child," cried Mrs. Bell, instantly 
 foreseeing the end of this line of argu- 
 ment. 
 
 An almost imperceptible quiver 
 passed over Mrs. Bradney's face. 
 
 "Would it?" she said, wistfully. 
 "Then, my dear, I would 'give in.' 
 Tell him the pansies have gone away ; 
 that when he can be good to them, 
 perhaps they will come back. ' ' 
 156
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 At the door she paused a moment 
 to say, in an uneven voice: 
 
 "It isn't the pansies, you know; 
 nor even your ideas of right and wrong. 
 It's Laurie himself. Some day you 
 might be sorry that you had kept on 
 forcing an issue which you might have 
 gone around." 
 
 "Perhaps she's right," said Mrs. 
 Bell; "but it isn't Laurie or the 
 pansies she's thinking of; it's 
 Hilary." 
 
 The next morning, when Laurie 
 went out to play, he came quickly back 
 to his mother with a troubled little 
 face. 
 
 "My pansies!" he cried out to her. 
 "Poor pansies all flied away." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Bell, gravely. 
 "They're all gone away, darling, be- 
 cause Laurie worried them so. Per- 
 haps, some day, when he is kind 
 and will let them grow, they will
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 come back again. But they've all 
 gone away now to try and grow 
 big." 
 
 The child looked at her a moment 
 in silence, but the tears began to fill 
 his deep gray eyes. Then with a 
 breaking sob he flew past her, out into 
 the garden again, and threw himself 
 down beside the empty pansy-bed in 
 an agony of grief and regret. But he 
 never destroyed a flower again. 
 
 Laurie was very fond of Mrs. Brad- 
 ney, whom he familiarly alluded to as 
 "Auntie Rell," and Mrs. Bell was 
 sometimes scandalized at the things he 
 said to her; so it was perhaps just as 
 well that she did not hear the very 
 worst of them, for it was only when he 
 was quite alone with Mrs. Bradney 
 that he gave the loosest rein to his 
 thoughts of her. 
 
 "You're very old, aren't you?" he 
 said, cheerfully, to her one day. 
 158
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Yes, child," replied Mrs. Bradney, 
 absently. 
 
 "Then you really ought to be dead, 
 shouldn't you?" he continued, looking 
 at her with the critical air of a con- 
 noisseur in things mortal. 
 
 Mrs. Bradney smiled. "Then what 
 would you do? You couldn't come 
 here any more, and you couldn't go 
 'horse-backing,' as you call it, on 
 Bobby Shafto. ' ' 
 
 Laurie looked oppressed, and consid- 
 ered the case anxiously. 
 
 "Who'll you give this to when 
 you're dead? Haven't you any little 
 boys or girls?" A worried crease 
 appeared between his eyes. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Boys?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Girls?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Heaps of girls?" 
 159
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Just only one girl?" 
 
 "Yes." Mrs. Bradney sat up very 
 straight. 
 
 "Where is she?" 
 
 "Oh a long way off." 
 
 "Why isn't she here?" 
 
 "Why, because she has her own 
 home, child." 
 
 "Oh! She's a bachelor, then," 
 cried Laurie, with an air of relief. "I 
 know. And lives all alone, like you." 
 
 "A bachelor?" 
 
 "Yes. Jeanie told me." Laurie 
 wagged his head ponderously, like one 
 in possession of illimitable tracts of 
 knowledge. "A bachelor is a lady 
 who had a wife, but hasn't." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 "Then your little girl is a bachelor. " 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Isn't she? Oh, yes, I'm sure she 
 is." But his tone wavered, and he 
 160
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 east visibly about in his little brain for 
 proof positive. "Because why, 
 Jeanie told me our grocer was a bach- 
 elor." He beamed in conclusive tri- 
 umph upon Mrs. Bradney. 
 
 After this he talked a great deal to 
 her about her "little girl," and gradu- 
 ally he became possessed of a series of 
 exquisite confidences about the little 
 Hilary, whose vanished sweetness 
 haunted her mother's heart. Perhaps 
 it was because Laurie had the same 
 appealing eyes and the same sunny, 
 hair tossed in clouds about his fair lit- 
 tle face that Mrs. Bradney found it 
 natural to talk to him about things 
 which touched the quick of her deepest 
 feelings. Or perhaps it was because 
 the child had a blessed and extravagant 
 belief in her goodness a belief which 
 was sometimes fraught with the cruel- 
 est stings for her. 
 
 But behind all her occasional soften- 
 
 161
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ings, and her strange impulse of affec- 
 tion for this little child, she harbored 
 unchanging resentment and bitterness 
 against her daughter, the daughter of 
 these later years, for whose vulgarized 
 life she felt the profoundest contempt. 
 And it was with no little trepidation 
 that Mrs. Bell said to her one day : 
 
 "Have you had any news of Mrs. 
 Hessemer lately?" 
 
 Mrs. Bradney looked at her for a 
 moment in silence. Then she said, 
 coldly : 
 
 "I never have any news of her." 
 
 For after the first few months Hilary 
 had grown discouraged at receiving no 
 answers to her patient letters, and so 
 they had ceased long ago. For it was 
 three years now since her marriage. 
 
 "Come into the conservatory with 
 me," continued Mrs. Bradney, rest- 
 lessly. "Brazil has some wonderful 
 new azaleas he wants you to see." 
 162
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Yes, in a minute," said Mrs. Bell. 
 She was dreadfully frightened, but she 
 meant to go on, and Mrs. Bradney 
 waited, feeling as helpless as a caged 
 lion against this determined bit of a 
 woman. "It's like this. I mean, I'm 
 sure Hilary must want you. I should, 
 I know, if I had a mother. Oh, Mrs. 
 Bradney, won't you go to her?" 
 
 A deep flush came into Mrs. Brad- 
 ney 's face, and the hands idly clasped 
 in her lap began to tremble. She 
 slightly turned her head, so that her 
 straight profile with its impersonal, 
 cameo-like effect was alone visible to 
 Mrs. Bell. But presently her lips 
 tightened into a hard, unlovely line, 
 and the color faded from her face, 
 leaving it white and cold. Then she 
 turned again to Mrs. Bell. 
 
 "Really, if you care to see the con- 
 servatory, I think we had better go 
 now. ' ' 
 
 163
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 But a flame of anger shot up into 
 Mrs. Bell's heart and voice. 
 
 "No, I don't want to go now," she 
 said, vehemently. "How can you 
 talk about azaleas, when when I tell 
 you such a thing as this?" She glared 
 defiantly at Mrs. Bradney. "I'm 
 glad now I haven't got a mother. If 
 she acted like you, I'd why, I'd just 
 hate her." 
 
 And with that she put on her hat, 
 and walked out of the house and back 
 to her home in a wild upheaval of fury 
 and fright, and burst into the study 
 with a force which brought Mr. Bell 
 up standing. 
 
 "Oh, Douglas, it's awful! We'll 
 have to go. She'll never forgive me. 
 Oh, why did I do it? But I don't 
 care one bit." 
 
 But when she had succeeded in 
 interpreting these ravings to Mr. Bell's 
 understanding, he burst out laughing, 
 164
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 which was such a relief to her that she 
 cried. 
 
 "Why, I think it was great," he 
 shouted. ' ' Bless your dear little heart, 
 Betty! that's just the sort of whole- 
 some truth she's suffering to hear about 
 herself. And as for us my dear, she'll 
 keep still enough about us, don't you 
 fret. Oh, jiminy! I'd give a dollar to 
 buy top-coats for the Hottentots for a 
 snap-shot of the scene." 
 
 It was treacherous weather, and per- 
 haps Mrs. Bell in her excitement had 
 not wrapped herself up sufficiently. 
 That was what Mr. Bell thought when 
 she woke in the night with a pain in 
 her throat, and he got up and dosed 
 her sleepily, and then forgot all about 
 it until he found himself wondering 
 the next morning why Betty didn't get 
 up when the alarm had rung so long 
 ago, and why he was possessed of a 
 boy who would persist in telling him- 
 165
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 self stories in an oratorical tone of 
 voice, just when his father needed his 
 final nap so badly. 
 
 ''Shut up!" he remarked, tersely, 
 to Laurie this morning, and Laurie an- 
 swered, cheerfully: "Yes, papa; and 
 now I'll tell you another story. Once 
 a little boy's mamma sent him out on 
 an erring." 
 
 No doubt Laurie meant "errand," 
 but in his dreams Mr. Bell beheld a 
 very slender herring galloping through 
 the streets, surmounted by a very solid 
 little boy. "But the naudy little boy 
 ran away into the woods to play. And 
 the woods were awful beary and full 
 of buffits and taggers, too. And a 
 great big buffit ran at him and stuck 
 him full of tears with its horns, and so 
 he died. And when his mamma 
 came to find him, there was his 
 dear little dead body lying full of 
 holes." 
 
 166
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 There was a long silence after this, 
 designed by Laurie, no doubt, for the 
 moral good of his hearer, until sud- 
 denly Mr. Bell's ears were assailed by 
 a series of rat-tat-tats, kept up with 
 maddening regularity. 
 
 "Laurie, stop that noise!" he com- 
 manded, stormily. 
 
 "Yes, but I must fix my shoe, 
 papa. This nail's wearing tracks in 
 my foot." 
 
 "Laurie," vociferated Mr. Bell some 
 moments later, "if you don't stop that 
 hammering pretty soon, I'm coming 
 over there to hammer you." 
 
 "Now, papa," protested Laurie, in 
 mildest complaint, "if you would only 
 not use up all my strength 'splaining 
 why I can't stop, I might have enough 
 left to stop with." 
 
 "Well, I guess I'll go asleep again," 
 he announced presently. Then, some 
 moments later, "Papa, is it best to go 
 167
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 asleep, or to wait until you fall 
 asleep?" 
 
 As he got no answer to this ques- 
 tion, he climbed out of his. crib, and 
 pattered coldly over the floor to his 
 parent. 
 
 Laurie's crib was familiarly alluded 
 to by the family as the "pen." It 
 had been built in his vigorous infancy 
 by a local carpenter, who had received 
 liberal instructions to create a structure 
 out of which no able-bodied child 
 should be able to escape. When it 
 was brought home Mrs. Bell had 
 seemed somewhat astonished at the 
 literal manner in which her instructions 
 had been fulfilled, and had even gone 
 so far as to ask the perplexed architect 
 if a ladder went with it. 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn't bother about that, 
 Betty," said Mr. Bell, reassuringly; 
 "for if he should ever set fire to him- 
 self, it would really be much quicker 
 168
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 to pour water in on top of him, instead 
 of merely trying to get him out." 
 
 ''But I don't see why he should 
 want to set fire to hisself, "' objected 
 the architect, bluntly. 
 
 "Oh, the natural depravity of the 
 human heart comes in there," rejoined 
 the minister, sadly; and then the man, 
 who was made of fine theological stuff, 
 smiled appreciatively. The first time 
 Laurie had succeeded in effecting an 
 escape from his "pen," after a vast 
 amount of creaking and scraping and 
 puffing and groaning, he celebrated 
 his victory by a triumphant little howl : 
 "Oh, I get out of bed I-self ! I get out 
 of bed I-self! I getting quite a big 
 man now. But, oh dear! I 'fraid I 
 a very little big man." 
 
 Mrs. Bell thought that very "cute," 
 
 but as Laurie's agility steadily 
 
 increased, she came to the conclusion 
 
 that the despised domestic architect 
 
 169
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 knew more about the inherent possibil- 
 ities of a boy's legs than she had given 
 him credit for. 
 
 "Papa," now shouted Laurie, se- 
 ductively, straight into Mr. Bell's ear, 
 "move over! I want to get into bed 
 with you." 
 
 "Oh, keep off! Go to sleep! Leave 
 me alone ! Get away ! Schnr-r-r, ' ' 
 groaned Mr. Bell, dozily. 
 
 Laurie stood silent a moment, 
 amazed at the nature of this remark. 
 Then he stamped his bare little foot, 
 and exclaimed, vehemently: "Papa, 
 you're what I call a beastly man!" 
 And having thus effectively freed his 
 mind, he began to weep. 
 
 But what was the matter with Betty 
 all this time? She took no notice of 
 Laurie's wails, and at last Mr. Bell, 
 roused into sudden remembrance of her 
 complaints during the night, sat up 
 and looked at her. 
 
 170
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Twenty minutes later he was on his 
 way to the doctor's, and in an hour or 
 so a big red diphtheria card was tacked 
 up outside the parsonage. 
 
 Laurie was promptly banished below 
 stairs, and Mr. Bell put in a day of 
 eager care for his wife, to be followed 
 by a long, lonely night of anxiety, for 
 it had been found impossible as yet to 
 get a nurse, owing to the epidemic of 
 the disease in town. The next morn- 
 ing he could not help seeing that Mrs. 
 Bell was much worse, and just as he 
 was wondering desperately what he 
 should do, Jeanie ran up to tell him 
 that Mrs. Bradney wished to see 
 him. 
 
 As he closed the door gently behind 
 him, he found himself face to face with 
 her. 
 
 "Oh, why didn't you send for me 
 yesterday? I only heard of it just 
 now. Now, where shall I begin first?" 
 171
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 It seemed to him that she began 
 everywhere at once, for in an incred- 
 ibly short time she had the whole thing 
 reduced to a system. Laurie and 
 Jeanie were both sent to the Hill 
 House. 
 
 "Oh, yes, Jeanie must go, too," 
 she said, decidedly. "I dare say she 
 and Vandelia will hitch together like 
 oil and water, but you and I can't help 
 that, and Laurie must have Jeanie. 
 Besides, we don't want a creature 
 here that we can get along without. 
 Brazil will bring our meals down 
 to us, and wait and take the dishes 
 back." 
 
 Seeing Mr. Bell's evident astonish- 
 ment at the magnitude of her arrange- 
 ments, she said to him, sharply: 
 
 "Have you ever been through this 
 thing? No; well, I have twice; and 
 I know the meaning of it. It's unfor- 
 tunate that Mrs. Coddle is engaged, 
 172
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 but I am sure Mrs. McAlpine will 
 come, as a favor to me. But it will 
 take the three of us to fight this thing 
 out to the finish." 
 
 '73
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 At the end of three terrible weeks 
 of suspense Jeanie one day brought 
 Laurie down to the parsonage, and 
 his mother was permitted to kiss him 
 through the window-pane. They 
 dabbed away joyfully at each other in 
 the intervals of a screeching conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 "This snow's very stale, mamma. 
 Why, the crust on it is as hard! Did 
 you know I have a very important 
 'gagement for this afternoon? Van- 
 delia's going to take me for a sleigh- 
 ride. She's going to drive, you know. 
 She's a very smart woman. I heard 
 the butter- woman say so to Brazil. 
 My kitty's got such human eyes, 
 mamma; just like yours. I'm going
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 to call my boat the 'Walbash.' That 
 sounds so nice and swushy, like a boat 
 ought to. Vandelia might have got 
 married, of course, but the butter- 
 woman says she just despises the men, 
 the hull kitten caboodle on 'em. 
 What does that mean ? I asked Van- 
 delia, and she was mad, but she said 
 she could have had 'em by the half- 
 dozen just the same." 
 
 But in the midst of these confiden- 
 tial shrieks a little wave of homesick- 
 ness suddenly swept over Laurie's 
 heart, and he wailed forth, "Oh, 
 mamma, I want to kiss you on your 
 own dear lips so badly." Then Jeanie 
 led him hurriedly away, for Mrs. Bell 
 was still too near the danger-line to 
 bear the least excitement, but she 
 watched him eagerly while Brazil en- 
 throned him on Bobby Shafto's patient 
 spine; and the procession at last moved 
 off, with Laurie vehemently kissing his
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 mittens to her until he was out of 
 sight. 
 
 Certainly he was having a good time. 
 So was everybody else at the Hill 
 House, even Vandelia, who had 
 secfetly come to the temperate con- 
 clusion that if a child had to be a child, 
 he might as well be as near like Laurie 
 as possible. Not that she ever admit- 
 ted such an opinion to Jeanie, whom 
 she exasperated nearly to the murder 
 mark by always calling "Jane." They 
 passed days together without speaking 
 to each other except through the 
 medium of the innocent little third 
 party. 
 
 "Laurie, I should think you had 
 better ask Jane to get a clean face on 
 you for a change," Vandelia remarked, 
 cuttingly, at the dinner-table; and by 
 way of getting even, Jeanie replied at 
 supper-time, "Laurie, I wouldn't eat 
 too many of them peaches. Vandelia 
 176
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 cans 'em in turpentine, and you'd ex- 
 plode for a long time afterward, if you 
 went too near the fire." 
 
 "Canned turkentine," repeated the 
 wondering Laurie in alarm. 
 
 "Yes, turpentine," said Jeanie, 
 decidedly. "Some likes it in paint, 
 and apperiently some likes it in 
 peaches. But I know your pore 
 mother wouldn't like it in you." 
 
 Both Jeanie and Vandelia were Pres- 
 byterians, but unfortunately not of the 
 same stripe; so that it would have 
 been much pleasanter for both of them 
 if the other had been a heathen. As 
 an Eskimo, Vandelia's heart would 
 have warmed towards Jeanie, and as a 
 Fijian, Jeanie would have offered both 
 hands to Vandelia, with a Mother 
 Hubbard in one and the Westminster 
 creed in the other. 
 
 Vandelia took great pride in her 
 liberality of thought; she despised 
 177
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Jeanie's narrow-mindedness. Jeanie 
 groaned over Vandelia's godlessness, 
 and pointed the moral of every little 
 tale she told Laurie with a pin, subtly 
 designed to prick Vandelia's hardened 
 heart. 
 
 For, like every child, Laurie was 
 very fond of Bible stories, and Jeanie 
 related them to him with a wealth of 
 faith and detail which wore on Van- 
 delia's improved intellect. 
 
 "Yes, darling; Eve was lovely be- 
 fore she et the apple. We had a 
 picture of her at home, in the big 
 Bible." 
 
 "Photograph, darling," mimicked 
 Vandelia. "Genuine snap-shot." 
 
 Jeanie hunched her shoulders con- 
 temptuously, and went on with her 
 tale. 
 
 "She had lovely blue eyes, and 
 beautiful, fair hair, hanging all down 
 to her feet, like ropes of gold, and " 
 178
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Well, now I'd just like to know, 
 Jane Buchan, how you can have the 
 conscience to sit there and tell that 
 poor innocent boy such tales as that 
 about a woman who lived millions and 
 millions of years ago " 
 
 ''Oh, oh!" interrupted Jeanie, 
 strongly. "When the Bible says " 
 
 "When we don't know what color 
 her hair was, nor even whether she had 
 any hair, or whether she wasn't all 
 hair, which is much the most likely 
 thing of all," pursued Vandelia, relent- 
 lessly. 
 
 Jeanie looked horrified. 
 
 "Why, Vandelia Crane! And 
 haven't we got the exact picture of 
 Eve, right there in our family Bible, 
 now?" 
 
 Vandelia' s face was a triumph of 
 stage emotions. 
 
 "Oh, the poor little ignorant simple- 
 ton! Why, child, where do you sup- 
 179
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 pose the man who printed your Bible 
 got his picture of Eve, anyway?" 
 
 Jeanie had never thought of this. 
 
 "Why, just where he got the rest 
 of it, ' ' she said at last, indignantly. 
 
 "And where 'd he get that?" 
 
 This was a poser. Jeanie therefore 
 took refuge in personality, like most 
 of her theological predecessors. 
 
 "Vandelia Crane," she said, with 
 impressive solemnity, "there's a verse 
 in the Bible that says, 'And without 
 are dogs.' Now, it's among them 
 that you'll be when the gates are shut, 
 I can tell you that." 
 
 But after all, when Mrs. Bradney 
 came home, and Jeanie went back to 
 the parsonage, Vandelia really missed 
 her, and she was very fair in her final 
 opinion. 
 
 "That Jeanie's just as impudent as 
 a fly on the end of your nose. But 
 then she's just as smart, too. And 
 180
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 as for taking good care of that boy! 
 Why, she acts as if the whole world 
 was one big orange, created a-purpose 
 for him to suck. And she ain't happy 
 one blessed minute if he ain't squeez- 
 ing all the juice there is out of the 
 occasion." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney smiled. She had in 
 mind Jeanie's remarks to Mrs. Bell 
 only half an hour before. "Oh, that 
 old maid, Vandelia, ma'am! Her bite 
 ain't near as poisonous as you'd think 
 from her bark; but my! she don't 
 know no more about training children 
 than I do about teaching alleygaiters 
 how to fly." 
 
 Which seemed plainly to imply that, 
 by contrast, Jeanie considered herself 
 a whole Pestalozzian-Froebel outfit. 
 
 Mrs. Bradney seemed justified in 
 
 concluding that Laurie had at least had 
 
 the opportunity of having a good time. 
 
 But he was not to return home for at 
 
 181
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 least two weeks yet, not only for his 
 own sake, but also for his mother's. 
 
 "Oh, yes, you're all right now," 
 said Mrs. Bradney to Mrs. Bell; "and 
 I know Jeanie will take good care of 
 you. But you're not going to have 
 that boy back until you are quite 
 strong again." 
 
 Mrs. Bell's face quivered. 
 
 "Oh, don't go yet. There is some- 
 thing I must tell you. I'm so sorry. 
 I said awful things to you. And Dr. 
 Bond says I should have died if it 
 hadn't been for you. Why, think of 
 what you've done for me!" 
 
 Mrs. Bradney studied her in silence. 
 Then she said, with an edge of sarcasm 
 in her voice: "My dear, be honest. 
 Why don't you say you're sorry you 
 had to say such things?" 
 
 But then, without giving Mrs. Bell 
 time to answer, she bent over and 
 kissed her gently, and went away. 
 182
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 She had never kissed an alien woman 
 in her life before. 
 
 Like many people who have brought 
 up one child, and that a girl, Mrs. 
 Bradney was quite sure she knew all 
 about "children." Consequently, the 
 next two weeks were rampant with 
 surprises for her. When she and 
 Laurie sat down to their first meal to- 
 gether she had a moment's embarrass- 
 ment. She was very anxious to do 
 the proper thing by him, and she was 
 certain that he must be accustomed to 
 the formality of a "blessing" in his 
 own home. But as if in magic divina- 
 tion of her predicament, Laurie chirped 
 out blithely: 
 
 "Oh, Auntie Rell! I'll ask the bless- 
 ing." 
 
 "Very well," she answered, with a 
 prudent air of concession; and in- 
 stantly, with the gusto of a cannon- 
 ball in quest of its goal, he burst out: 
 183
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Lord, bless to us what now we like, 
 to do us good, for Jesus' sake, Amen." 
 
 She was quite sure that through the 
 half-open door she heard Vandelia 
 strangle a giggle in the kitchen at this 
 neat intimation of Laurie's, and she 
 heard another when he fixed her with 
 his eye, and remarked, sweetly: 
 
 "I'm not a bit bread-and-butter 
 hungry, Auntie Rell, but, oh! I'm 
 awful cooky hungry." 
 
 Vandelia beamed upon him. She 
 could not resist this tribute to her 
 genius, for she did consider herself a 
 "dabster" in the cooky line. But 
 Mrs. Bradney said, kindly: 
 
 "Yes, I dare say, Laurie; but Van- 
 delia has a boiled egg for you now." 
 
 "Yes; but it doesn't seem to me I 
 want an egg not now," he added, 
 with a provisional eye for future 
 needs. "Besides, I'm sure Vandelia 
 boiled this one upside down." 
 184
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 This objection occurred to him sud- 
 denly, and he evidently expected it to 
 prove insurmountable; but Mrs. Brad- 
 ney beguiled him, and at length he 
 consented to eat the despised egg. 
 But not until he had extracted from 
 her a promise that he should have a 
 "sample" of everything on the table. 
 While he ate it he discoursed on the 
 subject of eggs in general. 
 
 "Turkeys lay eggs. We et our last 
 turkey. It was full of turkey-bread, 
 but Jeanie put that in. I saw her. 
 But the next turkey we get, I'm going 
 to coax mamma to keep him in the 
 yard and have him lay eggs." 
 
 "Vandelia, will you pass the olives, 
 please," said Mrs. Bradney. 
 
 "The man that sold that turkey to 
 mamma, Auntie Rell, said it was a 
 very, very good turkey indeed, and 
 that if we found it wasn't pure turkey 
 all the way through, we could give it 
 185
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 back to him after after " Laurie 
 hesitated, vaguely conscious of some 
 difficulty here, and then discreetly 
 shifted his cargo of conversation to 
 another track. 
 
 "Ants lay larvas, anyway," he an- 
 nounced, with the firmness of convic- 
 tion. "I know, for the book mamma 
 reads to me says so. And I think the 
 pointed-back ones are queens. But 
 it's better not to be sure." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney laughed suddenly. 
 
 "Child," she exclaimed, "how you 
 manage to eat so much and say so 
 much at one and the same time, I 
 can't think." 
 
 "Can't you? Why, it's easy, 
 Auntie Rell." He studied her seri- 
 ously for a moment, and then said, 
 with the inconsequent directness which 
 she found so paralyzing: 
 
 "Are you all over blood inside?" 
 
 ' ' Why yes, child. Yes, I suppose so. ' ' 
 1 86
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "I am," he remarked, gravely. "It's 
 red, you know. What's yours? I 
 thought perhaps you were all bones 
 inside. You don't look bloody. " 
 
 Vandelia choked as she passed the 
 hot biscuits. It struck her as irresisti- 
 bly funny to hear her mistress's in 
 and out sides discussed with such free- 
 dom. 
 
 "Pigeons lay eggs, too, but their 
 eggs are nearly always males or she- 
 males. Oh, yes, they are. Anyway, 
 the Science Primer says so." 
 
 He had finished his egg now, and 
 he pushed his saucer away. Then he 
 carefully scanned Mrs. Bradney's plate. 
 
 "What are you eating, Auntie 
 Rell?" 
 
 "Ham." 
 
 "Ham? What's it made of ?" 
 
 "Pork." 
 
 "Pig pork?" 
 
 He spoke with the critical air of one 
 187
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 who was up to a thing or two, and not 
 likely to be deceived by a bogus article. 
 
 "It really looks quite nice," he re- 
 marked, condescendingly. ' ' Please give 
 me too much." 
 
 He was provided with an ample 
 plateful of provender, and there actu- 
 ally was silence for nearly sixty sec- 
 onds. 
 
 "I think I'll take another plum, 
 please, Auntie Rell. This one is bad." 
 
 "Plum? Oh! an olive. Why, cer- 
 tainly, dear. I'm sorry that one's not 
 good." 
 
 "But this one's bad, too," he said 
 presently. "Very, very bad." 
 
 And it was not until four "bad" 
 olives were ranged upon his plate that 
 Vandelia grasped the situation, and 
 exclaimed, feelingly: 
 
 "Land of Goshen, child! They're 
 all bad. It's the nature of 'em. 
 Didn't you ever eat 'em before?" 
 188
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "No, Vandelia, and I never will 
 again," he said, firmly. "I feel like 
 paint and oysters all over inside." 
 
 After he had drunk a great deal of 
 hot milk and water, and was partially 
 convalescent, he asked, abruptly: 
 
 "Does Vandelia ever make scarlet 
 roosters for supper, Auntie Rell?" 
 
 Mrs. Bradney looked really amazed. 
 
 "Scarlet roosters?" she repeated, 
 faintly. 
 
 "Yes; Jeanie does. Mamma showed 
 her how. She always makes six. 
 Then I have two." 
 
 "Six scarlet roosters! And you 
 have two?" 
 
 "Why, of course, Auntie Rell. But 
 Mrs. Bond buys hers. In a box, you 
 know. At De Spelder's. " 
 
 "For the love of anything, ma'am! 
 
 It must be Charlotte Rootches he 
 
 means," put in Vandelia, who had 
 
 been hovering about, green-eared at 
 
 189
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 this recital of Jeanie's culinary feats. 
 "Flummery kickshaws, I should call 
 'em." 
 
 "Would you?" said Laurie, in aston- 
 ishment. "I don't believe they'd 
 know what you wanted, Vandelia. 
 But do you think if I planted this 
 stone, Auntie Rell, it would grow up 
 cooked peaches? 'Cause the stone's 
 cooked, you see." 
 
 "Well, child, I wish it would," 
 sighed Vandelia. 
 
 "What do you do, Auntie Rell, 
 when chickens won't lay their eggs in 
 their nests?" 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know, Laurie." 
 
 "Oh, I do. You ought to put a 
 nice smooth egg made of white wood 
 in the nest. Then the next time the 
 chicken came by he would look in and 
 say, 'Why, some other people have 
 been here laying eggs, and now I 
 needn't mind.' ' 
 
 190
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bradney laughed. 
 
 "Oh, but Brazil told me that," ex- 
 postulated Laurie, evidently feeling 
 that her amusement cast a slur upon 
 the statement. 
 
 "Well, it doesn't sound just like 
 Brazil," remarked Mrs. Bradney; for 
 Brazil was a painfully exact and un- 
 imaginative person whose own mental 
 processes could be no more obscure to 
 the hen than the hen's to him. 
 
 The next day was wet, and Laurie 
 could not go out to play. The rain 
 began with a heavy thunder-storm, 
 which delighted him. 
 
 "Hooray! listen to that big heaven- 
 cracker!" he shrieked after a most 
 appalling clap right over their heads. 
 ' ' I guess they think up there it's Fourth 
 of July, Auntie Rell." 
 
 But when the thunder had exhausted 
 itself the rain kept steadily on, and 
 Mrs. Bradney soon discovered that an 
 191
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 active boy can wear out more expedi- 
 ents designed for his entertainment in 
 half an hour than six girls could in 
 three weeks. 
 
 At last in despair she said to him: 
 "Oh, go upstairs, and fill the bath full 
 of water, if you want to, and sail all 
 the boats you like." 
 
 When she went up, after a while, to 
 change her dress, she found him carry- 
 ing on an active conversation with a 
 toothpick, which was propped up 
 against the tap. 
 
 "Do you want to work on my 
 boat?" he inquired, sternly. "Well, 
 are you a member of our church?" 
 
 "Don't you think that's a pretty 
 rigorous test of seamanship, Laurie?" 
 
 "Oh! but, Auntie Rell, you're bound 
 to have rigging on a ship. Come and 
 look at my boat. She's called the 
 ' Suspender. ' She goes beautifully with 
 her sail, when I lead her with a string." 
 192
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bradney laughed. "Well, 
 under the circumstances I think the 
 name's first-class, but I suppose you 
 mean 'Defender.' ' 
 
 Laurie looked aggrieved. "No, I 
 didn't, Auntie Rell. 'Suspender' 
 sounds so nice and and sloppy. 
 Don't you see? But look! There's 
 my cropeller, " he said, pointing to a 
 soap-dish ambling uncertainly on the 
 face of the domestic deep. "And 
 that's a steam-bard." He was bliss- 
 fully unconscious of any difference 
 between bards and barges, or tin pie- 
 plates, for that matter. 
 
 "But it's hard work making waves, 
 Auntie Rell." He was quite red in 
 the face from his frantic efforts to stir 
 up a satisfactory storm with an egg- 
 beater. ' "They don't stay made. Do 
 you think God's got a recipe for mak- 
 ing His waves, Auntie Rell?" 
 
 "I suppose so," answered Mrs.
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Bradney, slowly. She felt as if she 
 would soon have to let out a tuck in 
 her mind to make room for the incon- 
 sequent succession of new ideas so 
 swiftly presented to her. 
 
 ' ' Can butterflies swim ?' ' he inquired, 
 earnestly. "Pigs can." But while he 
 was waiting for her to adjust her facul- 
 ties to this transition, the toothpick 
 sailor fell overboard from the slippery 
 deck of the soap-dish into the hydrant 
 sea. 
 
 "Well, I am sure you needn't make 
 such a fuss about that," said Laurie, 
 contemptuously, as he rescued him. 
 "Don't you know that John advertised 
 Jesus in Jordan? This ought to be 
 good enough for you." 
 
 Just then Vandelia appeared in the 
 doorway. "Land of Goshen!" she 
 exclaimed, severely. "Laurie Bell! 
 And you a minister's son! And not a 
 dry thread on your back!" 
 194
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 She stamped imposingly around the 
 inundated bathroom, and descanted 
 eloquently on the utter ruin to the 
 splashed-up walls, but she quite 
 ignored Mrs. Bradney. Vandelia was 
 enjoying herself royally. It was so 
 good to be able to tongue-lash her mis- 
 tress in this safe, second-hand style. 
 
 Suddenly she said, in quite an 
 altered tone, and as if she had only 
 that moment become aware of Mrs. 
 Bradney 's presence: "Mrs. Oblender 
 is waiting downstairs to see you, 
 ma'am." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney melted meekly away. 
 
 And then Vandelia sat down and 
 sailed boats for a while. 
 
 Mrs. Oblender was very big and 
 very red, and as she talked on and on 
 more and more breathily about the 
 "unheeded whails of the indignant 
 poor," she deepened in tint and 
 swelled in size until it looked positively
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 dangerous, and any humane person 
 would almost have been driven to con- 
 cede her side of an argument in order 
 to save her life. 
 
 Mrs. Oblender was very new to 
 Sand Harbor. She was also very new 
 to her position as the wife of a sud- 
 denly rich man, and after some rather 
 trying experiments as a social star she 
 had concluded that philanthropy was 
 her forte, and that she could probably 
 make far more noise in the world with 
 less money in that way. So just now 
 she was pronouncing organization with 
 a capital O, and fondly imagining 
 herself the president of a ponderous 
 society for the philosophical study of 
 the poor. 
 
 "Oh, yes; I dare say a bureau of 
 charities is a necessity in a large city 
 Mrs. Oblender," said Mrs. Bradney; 
 "but here in Sand Harbor we have 
 every means of knowing our poor and 
 196
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 caring for them in the simplest and 
 most informal manner. I'm afraid of 
 machinery myself." 
 
 Just then the door opened, and 
 Laurie trotted in, dry and decent in 
 fact, as charming as Vandelia could 
 make him. He climbed into Mrs. 
 Bradney's lap, and clasping his arms 
 around her neck, whispered, stagily: 
 
 "Oh, send her away, Auntie Rell; 
 I like you best all to myself." 
 
 Mrs. Oblender watched this pro- 
 ceeding in some astonishment. Se- 
 cretly she stood very much in awe of 
 Mrs. Bradney, but there was certainly 
 no fear about this child, and she found 
 that fact encouraging. 
 
 "Come here, dear. What's your 
 name?" she asked, with a wide, thin- 
 lipped smile. "Bradney, I guess. 
 You're just the living image of your 
 grandma. ' ' 
 
 "No," said the child, shortly. 
 197
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "I'm Laurie Bell. That's what God 
 calls me, anyway." 
 
 Mrs. Oblender bristled. That was 
 a strange way for a child to talk, she 
 thought. Why, the irreverence of it! 
 
 "Oh, the minister's little boy!" 
 She looked at Mrs. Bradney. "Well, 
 I wouldn't go to that church. Why, 
 that young man's positively dangerous. 
 I wonder somebody don't do some- 
 thing about it." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney's chin lifted. 
 
 "Dangerous?" she repeated. "What 
 to? Really, Mrs. Oblender, you need 
 not be afraid. Dr. Bond says there is 
 not the slightest chance of infection 
 now." 
 
 Mrs. Oblender felt a little foolish, 
 and wondered whether she had not bet- 
 ter explain that she meant something 
 far more to be dreaded than diphtheria. 
 But Laurie had approached quite near 
 to her, and was looking at her critically. 
 198
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 He was usually a very polite child, but 
 certainly, as Mrs. Bradney said to 
 Vandelia, damp weather had a very 
 demoralizing effect on him. Mrs. 
 Oblender began to gush over him 
 noisily, but Laurie was not duped, for 
 he had the discrimination which chil- 
 dren share with the dog who always 
 knows whether a bone is given to him 
 or thrown at him. 
 
 "Are you a white lady?" he asked, 
 unexpectedly. "Because I don't think 
 you are. You look like Jeanie when 
 the poison ivory stung her." 
 
 "Laurie!" 
 
 "Yes, Auntie Rell, but I want to 
 tell her that I'm going to have a circus 
 when I'm a man. The ladies will sit 
 in the topper seats, and the men in 
 the downer ones. Wouldn't you like 
 to" 
 
 A wild terror seized Mrs. Bradney 
 that he might be going to suggest that 
 199
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 her visitor should fill the role of the 
 Fat Lady from Madagascar, or the 
 Bearded Giantess from Yang-hi-tchoo. 
 
 "Laurie," she said, gravely, "ask 
 Vandelia to go up to the garret with 
 you and see if the south end is leak- 
 ing." 
 
 Then she turned to Mrs. Oblender, 
 and said, with a sweetness which 
 sugar-coated all that lady's vague dis- 
 comfitures: 
 
 "I'm sure we have every reason to 
 feel grateful to you, Mrs. Oblender, 
 for the interest you are taking in our 
 people, and I know that your wisdom 
 and experience will suggest to us many 
 improvements on our old-fashioned 
 methods." 
 
 Afterward she had a serious little 
 talk with Laurie. 
 
 "All right, Auntie Rell; I'll never 
 do it again. But I don't think she's 
 pretty, and why does she wear little 
 
 200
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 lanterns in her ears? But I know who 
 is pretty. ' ' 
 
 "Who?" Mrs. Bradney felt quite 
 interested. 
 
 "Vandelia. She's as thin as a pin." 
 
 Well, if that was his standard of 
 beauty, Mrs. Bradney felt that Mrs. 
 Oblender's case was hopeless indeed. 
 But alas! It was still raining in heavy, 
 straight lines, and Laurie went over to 
 the window and looked out dolefully. 
 At last he said, in a tone of reproachful 
 remonstrance : 
 
 "Now, God, this is the third time 
 to-day that I've asked you to turn off 
 that rain, and you haven't done it yet." 
 
 "But just think how good this rain 
 is for the farmers, " said Mrs. Bradney. 
 
 "But, Auntie Rell, there are a mil- 
 lion times more boys in the world 
 than farmers, and I know there isn't 
 one single boy who wants it to rain. 
 
 ' ' I know what, ' ' said Vandelia, com-
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 passionately. "You send Brazil over 
 for his little girl, ma'am. She's a real 
 tidy child, and they'd have the best 
 time together this whole blessed after- 
 noon. There ain't anything quite so 
 entertaining to a child as some other 
 child." 
 
 But when little Mary Pinch first 
 found herself in Mrs. Bradney's sit- 
 ting-room she was speechless with 
 alarm, for her mother had given her so 
 many agonized last directions as to her 
 behavior that she could only helplessly 
 remember that she had forgotten them 
 all. So after several quite ineffectual 
 attempts to thaw her out, Mrs. Brad- 
 ney went away. Perhaps if they were 
 left alone a while the two children 
 would do something besides stare at 
 each other. 
 
 "What's your name?" inquired 
 Laurie the moment the door was shut. 
 
 "Mary Pinch." 
 
 202
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Mary Pinch. Pinch like that?" 
 
 "No, like that," retaliated Mary, 
 promptly delivering a punch, under 
 which Laurie sat down quite unex- 
 pectedly to himself. 
 
 "Now you've broken my skeleton 
 all to bits, " he wailed ; but Mary looked 
 coldly unconcerned, and then he asked, 
 reproachfully : 
 
 "Are you a girl?" 
 
 "Yes, lam." 
 
 "Don't you wish you were a boy?" 
 
 "No, I don't," retorted Mary, with 
 unmistakable indignation. 
 
 "Well, I do. You'd know so much 
 more about 'lectricity." 
 
 "No, I shouldn't. I'd be ashamed 
 to," said Mary, severely. 
 
 "Well, when I get up to heaven I'm 
 going to have four legs," announced 
 Laurie, with a lightning change of sub- 
 ject. "Two to walk with, and two to 
 kick with." 
 
 203
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Then you'll look just like a dog," 
 said Mary, scornfully. 
 
 "Well, I don't care, Mary Pinch. 
 In your last incrownation you were 
 only an old pig, anyway." 
 
 This remark was the baneful result 
 of an innocent discussion on theoso- 
 phy between Mr. and Mrs. Bell, in 
 which Laurie's ears had evidently 
 played an absorbing part. 
 
 Mary moved toward her hat. 
 
 "I guess I'll go," she said, with 
 dignity. 
 
 Laurie looked anxious. "If you 
 stay, I might p'r'aps tell you the story 
 of Jonah of Arc. Auntie Rell read it 
 to me." 
 
 "I don't know," said Mary, weakly. 
 "Auntie Rell" and "Jonah of Arc" 
 were equally unknown characters to 
 her, but she had a thirst for knowl- 
 edge, and this mouthing of great 
 names had its effect upon her. But 
 204
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 she wouldn't let Laurie suspect that 
 for anything. 
 
 "Oh, I don't care about that. I've 
 got a lovely cat. It's called Grandma." 
 
 "Huh! I've got two. Vandelia 
 got them for me. One's called Circe, 
 and one's called Esau. Esau's called 
 Esau because he was Jacob's brother, 
 you know; and Circe well, Circe's 
 called Circe because oh ! Ulysses 
 knew all about Circe, anyway." 
 
 "Do they scratch?" 
 
 Laurie nodded vigorously, and 
 looked tenderly at one finger. 
 
 "See that flustering? That's where 
 Esau scratched me. Auntie Rell put 
 gasoline on it." 
 
 "Vaseline," said Mary, with the 
 contempt of infinite knowledge. 
 
 "Yes, but have you ever had your 
 picturegraph taken, Mary?" 
 
 "No; but I can spell Con-stan-sty- 
 no-ble." 
 
 205
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Well, I used to could," said 
 Laurie, with the air of one who was 
 sure he must have forgotten more than 
 Mary ever knew. "But I think we'd 
 better play soldiers now," he added, 
 quickly. "I've got a sword and a 
 snap-sack. I'll be the Newnited States 
 and you can be Spanish, and I'll kill 
 you with the sword." 
 
 But there was a long argument 
 about that, and it was only settled 
 finally by their arranging to take turns 
 at being the slaughtered Spaniard. 
 Then another storm arose over the 
 soldier's belt, which Mary monopolized 
 entirely, it being altogether too small 
 for Laurie's aldermanic proportions. 
 
 "Well, what do you mean by being 
 so fat, and then fussing about it so?" 
 she inquired, indignantly. "You 
 ought to be ashamed. Why, your 
 waist is bigger than my pa's, and he's 
 forty-one years old." 
 206
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Now, see here, Mary Pinch, you're 
 feeling too homely in this house, and 
 and I knew your father before you 
 did, anyway," said Laurie, groping for 
 a suitable insult, and not at all caring 
 whether it adhered to the subject 
 under discussion or not. 
 
 "Why, for the land sake!" ex- 
 claimed the six-year-old Mary, in 
 strong tones. "I knew him when he 
 was a little boy. 
 
 "Yes, but I knew him up in heaven, 
 before he was borned down here," de- 
 clared Laurie, stoutly. "He had 
 wings on then. I wonder how they 
 get wings on." 
 
 These flights into the supernatural 
 were too much for Mary, but by way 
 of retaliation she picked up the belt, 
 and began cruelly to crowd Laurie 
 into it. But even the strength of 
 revenge was unequal to the task, and 
 Laurie wailed with mortification. 
 207
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Oh, dear! I wish there wasn't so 
 much of me, Mary. Is it because I 
 eat too much?" 
 
 "Why, of course it is," said Mary, 
 disdainfully. 
 
 "Well, if that don't beat all," re- 
 marked Vandelia to herself as she 
 passed through the room. "And your 
 own ma told me only last week that 
 you eat like an elephant, with the 
 digestion of an ostrich, for all that 
 you're such a scrawny little scrimp 
 that decent victuals wouldn't own to 
 feeding you." 
 
 However, after Laurie found that a 
 soldier could parade just as noisily in 
 a belt cut from an extra-sized edition 
 of the daily paper, he recovered his 
 spirits, and the massacres proceeded as 
 before until he decided to refresh him- 
 self by eating the only apple in sight. 
 This called forth from Mary some 
 distinctly audible remarks about 
 208
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "green-eye greedy," which Laurie 
 resented as unmistakably personal, but 
 he finally offered a compromise. 
 
 "No, Mary, I can't give you the 
 apple now, because it's all eaten, but 
 you may have the core and the 
 bruise." 
 
 Naturally enough, Mary construed 
 this as adding gross insult to injury, 
 and Vandelia hearing the riot from 
 afar, considered it prudent to inter- 
 fere. 
 
 "Can't you two children play 
 together like Christians, without mak- 
 ing such an outlandish racket? I 
 guess they can hear you in town." 
 
 "Of course we could, Vandelia," 
 answered Laurie, promptly. "But it's 
 so much more inter-rusting not to." 
 
 Vandelia went away with a grim 
 smile underneath her judicial severity. 
 "But it don't appear to me children 
 
 209
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 talked like that in my day," she 
 mused. 
 
 After this dreadfully exciting time, 
 they rested themselves by looking 
 through the "picture-telescope," as 
 Laurie called the kaleidoscope, until 
 he unfortunately nudged Mary on the 
 arm, thereby upsetting a very splendid 
 sunlight sonata in every color at once. 
 Then they slapped each other a little 
 while, until it occurred to Laurie that 
 it would be a pleasing change to play 
 "gurdy-organ," with Mary as instru- 
 ment and himself as grinder. 
 
 That did nicely, until Mary got out 
 of tune from overpractice and Laurie 
 ground her a trifle too heavily in her 
 left side. 
 
 But after Vandelia had separated 
 the grinder and the ground, and had 
 restored peace with a couple of cookies, 
 they took a very affectionate farewell 
 of each other. 
 
 210
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "But you know, Mary, I shan't be 
 able to marry you," said Laurie, 
 regretfully. 
 
 "Why not?" demanded Mary, 
 indignantly. 
 
 "Why, because you haven't got my 
 color hair. People must always marry 
 people with their same hair." 
 
 "I don't believe it," declared Mary, 
 earnestly. 
 
 "Well, don't get your heart set on 
 it, anyway, Mary, 'cause 'cause I 
 might see somebody I liked better." 
 
 "Then you'll be a mean, greedy 
 boy," screamed Mary out of the dark- 
 ness into which she was disappearing. 
 "But I don't care. I'll marry you 
 anyway, whether you want to or not." 
 
 "Well, Laurie, did you and Mary 
 have a nice time together?" asked Mrs. 
 Bradney, when he came and nestled 
 up against her. 
 
 "Oh, Auntie Rell, we had just a
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 beloved time," he answered, with a 
 tired sigh of reminiscence. "It was 
 gorgeant. But do men have to get 
 married whether they want to or not, 
 Auntie Rell? Because, Mary wants 
 me to."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 "I know a baldheaded man, Bra- 
 zil." 
 
 "Do, eh? Who's that?" 
 
 "Oh, I can't tell you, Brazil. Why, 
 don't you see you're the very one I 
 can't tell?" 
 
 "Can't? Well, I'd like to know 
 why." 
 
 "Oh, no! Auntie Rell said we 
 simply mustn't talk about other peo- 
 ple's looks. Mrs. Oblender's got 
 looks, you know." 
 
 "First time I knew it," muttered 
 Brazil. 
 
 "Yes; but you must not say so," 
 continued Laurie. 
 
 "And I might hurt your feelings, 
 213
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 you see, Brazil. But I really do know 
 a baldheaded man." 
 
 "And yet you won't tell me! Now 
 that's what I call real mean. I guess 
 I won't bother much about saddling 
 Bobby Shafto after this." 
 
 "Oh, dear!" Laurie looked sorely 
 distressed. He stood first on one foot 
 and then on the other in an agony of 
 indecision. 
 
 At last he said, beseechingly: 
 
 "Now, you'll promise not to have 
 your feelings hurt, Brazil?" 
 
 "I don't know about that," said 
 Brazil, cruelly. "But I know I'm 
 through with saddling Bobby Shafto." 
 
 "My, my!" Laurie wrung his 
 hands. "There's only one way I can 
 tell you. It's this. The next time 
 you look in your looking-glass" he 
 paused miserably "you'll know who 
 the baldheaded man is." He shot out 
 the last few words in a frantic whisper. 
 214
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Brazil took off his hat, and felt his 
 head meditatively. 
 
 "Oh, don't do that!" exclaimed 
 Laurie, anxiously. "It'll hurt your 
 feelings if you do. Besides, when 
 you're a soldier in war, do they give 
 you time to blow your nose, Brazil? 
 Because if they don't, I don't believe 
 I'll be a soldier." 
 
 "Bless my braces! If you don't 
 beat a flea at turning a handspring, 
 young feller! First it's heads and 
 then it's noses." 
 
 "Yes," said Laurie, sweetly. "But 
 did you ever dream you were anointed 
 king of Israel, Brazil? I did last night. 
 Everybody came to see it all the 
 heaven people, I mean and the 
 angels flew around blowing their " 
 
 "Noses?" suggested Brazil, irrever- 
 ently. 
 
 "No, no; their trumpets, Brazil. 
 And God said, 'Hurry up and get 
 215
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 dressed quick, or you won't see the 
 show.' You never saw such a time.. 
 My! It was awful." 
 
 "You bet!" ejaculated Brazil, fer- 
 vently. 
 
 "And a little girl up there dropped 
 her heaven spear, and it fell right down 
 on her papa, and killed him dead. 
 My, but he was mad ! He went right 
 up to heaven, and punished her se- 
 verely, Brazil. Why, he he cut 
 off her leg." 
 
 Brazil looked paralyzed. 
 
 "So then she was tooken to the 
 Unatic Aasylum, of course. But do 
 you know where liars go, Brazil?" 
 
 "Liars?" 
 
 "Yes, of course. You know that 
 means you, Brazil." 
 
 "Liars, me!" 
 
 "Yes, because Auntie Rell says you 
 never told me about the chickens and 
 the wooden eggs, you see." 
 216
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 ''But I did." 
 
 ' ' Yes, I suppose you did, " said Laurie, 
 calmly. "But you shouldn't have." 
 
 "Why not, I'd like to know?" 
 
 "Because you must always tell the 
 truth, Brazil." 
 
 "But it was the truth," protested 
 Brazil, wildly. 
 
 "Yes, I know. But it's wrong to 
 tell lies, isn't it, Brazil?" 
 
 Brazil's face was a study. Some- 
 thing was wrong, but his brain refused 
 to grapple with the mystery. He 
 would grapple with Laurie instead. 
 But at this moment Vandelia called 
 Laurie from the porch. 
 
 "Laurie, come in to your supper." 
 
 "Yes, Vandelia; but I've just eaten 
 four slices of bread to two pieces of 
 cheese, and don't you think that was a 
 pretty good score?" 
 
 "Where did you get that, I'd like 
 to know?" asked Vandelia, severely. 
 217
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Oh, I helped myself in the pantry, 
 thank you," said Laurie, cheerfully, 
 as he went indoors. 
 
 Brazil sought healing for his out- 
 raged feelings by stating his case to 
 Vandelia. But she only laughed. 
 
 "'Tain't safe to argue with a child," 
 she remarked, sagely. "You're bound 
 to get left." 
 
 "Well, I know one thing," Brazil 
 concluded, finally. "That boy's cut 
 out for a lawyer. He'd muddle you 
 all up in the innocentest way until 
 you'd be beggin' to sign your own 
 death-warrant, with tears of gratitood 
 for the privilege." 
 
 It was Saturday evening, and after 
 Laurie had disposed of a supper which 
 threatened his existence, in spite of 
 his continual insistence that he really 
 had no "appletite, " a procession was 
 formed for the bathroom, for his ab- 
 lutions were a serious matter, and 
 218
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 seemed to demand the united energies 
 of Mrs. Bradney and Vandelia. 
 
 "I'll go first with the lamp, and you 
 can carry up that pile of things, Van- 
 delia. Laurie, you can bring up the 
 rear." 
 
 But when they were half-way up the 
 stairs Laurie called after them distract- 
 edly: 
 
 "But where is it, Auntie Rell? I've 
 hunted for it everywhere." 
 
 "Where is what?" 
 
 "Why the rear, Auntie Rell. You 
 said I must bring it up." 
 
 "For creation sake!" ejaculated 
 Vandelia. "Why, you're it yourself, 
 child. Get along." 
 
 Laurie sat down and began to unbut- 
 ton his shoes. But suddenly he looked 
 up, and said, sweetly: 
 
 "Here, Auntie Rell, you may take 
 off my shoes. It will give you some- 
 thing to do." 
 
 219
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Vandelia chuckled. If she had not 
 liked the child for anything else, she 
 would have adored him for the manner 
 in which he ordered her stately mis- 
 tress about. 
 
 "Vandelia, did you ever have the 
 measles?" 
 
 "Guess so." 
 
 "Did they perfumigate you when 
 you were done, Vandelia?" 
 
 "Perfumigate me?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, they did, Vandelia. Be- 
 cause they was germs sticking all over 
 you. They perfumigated mamma, 
 and they perfumigated me once, too. 
 Only I was so little I can't remember 
 when. But my tempiture was two 
 hundred and fifty." 
 
 "Well, for a boy that thinks nothing 
 of a two hundred and fifty tempera- 
 ture, I must say you're mighty hard 
 to suit in a bathtub," remarked Van- 
 
 220
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 delia presently, in tones of strong 
 exasperation. 
 
 Certainly, Laurie was sensitive. 
 The difference of a degree or two in 
 the temperature of the water made a 
 bigger difference than degrees are usu- 
 ally supposed to. 
 
 And after that was once adjusted a 
 great fleet of things had to precede 
 him into the bath the soap-dish, the 
 match-safe, some curiously shaped 
 cardboard, a squadron of toothpicks, 
 and a very handsome man-of-war, 
 which used to be a crumb-tray. 
 
 "Do they always call a ship a 
 'she'?" 
 
 "Oh, yes, I suppose so," said Mrs. 
 Bradney, vaguely. 
 
 Laurie shook his head violently. 
 "No, Auntie Rell, I don't think so. 
 How could you call a man-of-war 
 she?" 
 
 Laurie was a very perishable article.
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 In fact, a wax doll would have been 
 vulgarly rugged in comparison. Van- 
 delia had never realized before that a 
 boy could be so frail, but as she cir- 
 cumspectly soaped him here and ten- 
 derly mopped him there, she learned a 
 great deal about boys and baths. 
 
 "Land of Goshen, child!" she ex- 
 claimed at last. "Ain't your skin on 
 tight? A body would think you were 
 afraid it was all going to wipe off." 
 
 "Yes, Vandelia; but now you see 
 you've wiped my sweeper right into 
 my eye-shutter." His lashes were 
 very long. 
 
 "Now, Auntie Rell, you may 
 scratch me if you want to, but leave 
 the scratch on. Don't rub it off." 
 
 How sweet he was, and so full of 
 roguish tricks! But then Laurie was a 
 very handsome child. It was not 
 likely that another in a thousand 
 would be like him. And heredity had
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 so much to do with these things. One 
 could hardly expect 
 
 "I think you ought to cut my hair, 
 Auntie Rell. If you don't, it'll all go 
 to seed pretty soon. Is the inside of 
 your head full of hair-seeds?" 
 
 "Well, it may be, Laurie; but I 
 have hoped that there was something 
 else there." 
 
 "No, I don't think so," said Laurie, 
 judicially. "Because you've got so 
 much hair." 
 
 What a sweet, saucy, dimpled thing 
 he was! Well, nearly all children were, 
 for that matter. It was only as they 
 grew older that they lost their charm 
 and hidden flaws appeared. 
 
 "Now, Auntie Rell, you're cutting 
 my scratchers off too short. I don't 
 like that one bit." 
 
 "But, Laurie, they're like eagle's 
 talons," remonstrated Mrs. Bradney. 
 
 Laurie argued the point exhaus- 
 223
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 lively, and Mrs. Bradney was very 
 glad at last to compromise by leaving 
 one "scratcher" long. 
 
 Then he said some very remarkable 
 prayers, which began quite respectably 
 and ended in a free-and-easy fashion, 
 designed to include everything in the 
 universe apparently, from Circe ' ' but 
 not Esau, because of that scratch" 
 down to Brazil and the milkman. 
 "And please feed Dandy lots, dear 
 God, so he'll be fat and strong." 
 
 "Who is Dandy?" asked Mrs. Brad- 
 ney as she tucked him up. 
 
 "Dandy? Oh, that's my heaven- 
 horse. Didn't you know that, Auntie 
 Rell? I've got lots of heaven-horses, 
 but I like Dandy best." 
 
 "I should think you'd like a few 
 of them down here," said Mrs. Brad- 
 ney, dryly. She felt suddenly mali- 
 cious. 
 
 "Oh, no! They wouldn't like it at 
 224
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 all down here. It's so much nicer up 
 there." 
 
 "How do you know they're up 
 there at all?" 
 
 The child looked at her in blank 
 amazement. 
 
 "I don't have to know, Auntie 
 Rell. They just are. Why, mamma 
 told me that when you go up to 
 heaven God gives you just what you 
 want to make you happy. And, of 
 course, I couldn't want anything else 
 like I want Dandy, Auntie Rell." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney sighed. Her quick 
 malice had died out. This little 
 child's simple faith awoke a hungry 
 ache in her heart. 
 
 She put out the light and drew up 
 the shades, and then sat down beside 
 him in the slanting moonlight. 
 
 "Can't you sing, Auntie Rell?" 
 
 "No, Laurie, I can't." 
 
 "Then I must," he said; and forth- 
 225
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 with began, in a thin, sweet little 
 treble : 
 
 " 'Now the day is over, 
 Night is drawing nigh; 
 Shadows of the evening 
 Steal across the sky. 
 
 " 'Now the darkness gathers, 
 Stars begin to peep ' " 
 
 "Yes, Auntie Rell, but I wish some- 
 body would really tell me why the 
 moon shuts up, and what it's stuck 
 on to." 
 
 He blew a light kiss to his mother, 
 and after a while Mrs. Bradney heard 
 him whisper softly: 
 
 "Good night, Auntie Rell; good 
 night, dear God," and the next mo- 
 ment he was fast asleep. 
 
 She sat there beside him for a long 
 time. Sometimes she leaned over and 
 listened to the light rise and fall of his 
 innocent breath. But her thoughts 
 were far away. 
 
 226
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 In the night she was awakened by 
 his sharp cry : 
 
 "Oh, Auntie Rell, I've got a head- 
 ache in my tooth! I've got a head- 
 ache in my tooth! You must go to 
 the drunk-store and get me some 
 medicine." 
 
 She drew him in beside her, and 
 pillowed his throbbing little face upon 
 her arm, and after a while he fell asleep 
 again, nestled as close against her as 
 he could creep. But she lay awake, 
 her eyes filled at times with unwilling 
 tears. This child loved her with a 
 most beguiling confidence. That he 
 should love her so appealed in the 
 subtlest way to a certain innocent van- 
 ity in her. She had been conscious 
 of growing hard, and of pushing her 
 world farther and farther from her, 
 but there must be something lovable 
 in her still. 
 
 And yet, was she going to close her 
 227
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 heart against that other little one who 
 would have every claim upon her? 
 
 In the morning she was confronted 
 with a problem which completely dis- 
 tracted her for a few minutes, espe- 
 cially as she felt herself under fire from 
 Vandelia's keen eye. For it was Sun- 
 day, and Laurie always went to church 
 with his mother or Jeanie. So he was 
 adorned in his best, with the general 
 impression that some one would take 
 him. But who? For since Hilary's 
 marriage Mrs. Bradney had never 
 entered the church. Vandelia? Even 
 Mrs. Bradney smiled at the thought of 
 Vandelia consenting to conduct a child 
 to church. 
 
 "Brazil wants to know what time he 
 shalf have the carriage ready for you, 
 ma'am?" blandly inquired Vandelia, 
 just as she had reached this juncture 
 in her thoughts. 
 
 228
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bradney raised her head 
 proudly. 
 
 "At quarter-past ten." 
 
 Vandelia retired into the kitchen, 
 and laid her nose reflectively against a 
 cold window-pane. 
 
 "Umh!" she said, after a long time. 
 She had been unable to resist the de- 
 light of harrying her mistress a little, 
 but she had not expected this. 
 
 It seemed to Mrs. Bradney that all 
 the world must be looking at her as 
 Brazil swept up to the church door in 
 his proudest style, but she was bril- 
 liantly calm as she walked into the old 
 Bradney pew. Laurie was necessarily 
 in the highest spirits. Only at the last 
 moment had she discovered that he 
 was starting out with a tin trumpet, 
 that he might properly celebrate on 
 the way the glory of driving to church 
 in such style, and it took her quite 
 three-quarters of the service to reduce 
 229
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 him to anything like a devout frame of 
 mind. 
 
 After ten minutes of the most de- 
 lightful calm, during which she rejoiced 
 to see him actually listening to the 
 sermon, which was more than she 
 could do herself, he leaned toward her 
 and whispered in trumpet tones: 
 
 "What makes him talk so long? 
 My legs ache." 
 
 It was not Mr. Bell; it was appar- 
 ently a frightened young theologue of 
 very recent manufacture, who, once 
 started, seemed likely to go on forever 
 from sheer inability to find out how to 
 stop. 
 
 She heard suppressed ripples in the 
 pews about her, and by the time the 
 benediction was finally arrived at she 
 felt herself on the verge of nervous 
 prostration. But the people surged 
 about her, and though a delicate tact 
 was certainly not the distinguishing 
 230
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 feature of some of them, she could not 
 help being touched by their real pleas- 
 ure at having her among them again. 
 
 After a while she missed Laurie, and 
 was advised to look for him in the 
 infant-class room. She sat down and 
 dreamily watched the mob of little tots 
 going through their quaint exercises, 
 until their collection-box was passed, 
 when she was recalled to a very vivid 
 sense of the present by hearing Laurie 
 say, in his sturdy little voice: 
 
 "No, Miss Walker, I haven't got 
 any penny to-day. Don't you know 
 my poor papa has to work very, very 
 hard for those pennies?" 
 
 Mrs. Bradney laughed, but the 
 teacher looked grave. She was an 
 interesting young being, who had 
 absorbed one great educational princi- 
 ple: never to disturb a child's uncon- 
 sciousness of himself by so much as a 
 smile at anything he said. 
 231
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 But her solemnity was an implied 
 disgrace, which Mrs. Bradney found it 
 difficult to sustain, and she hurried 
 away to improve the remaining time 
 by looking in on Mrs. Bell. 
 
 "Who preached to-day?" she asked, 
 after she had touched as lightly as 
 possible on her own appearance in 
 church. 
 
 "Oh, that's the new young pastor 
 at Rose Park," said Mrs. Bell; "and 
 he needs some one to be kind to him, 
 as you can very well imagine if you 
 know anything about the place. So 
 Mr. Bell exchanged with him this 
 morning. ' ' 
 
 "Yes; I can imagine that Rose Park 
 might be pretty thorny," said Mrs. 
 Bradney, grimly. "But I thought he 
 must have just escaped from some 
 theological incubator. There seemed 
 to be a good deal of shell still sticking 
 to his back. ' ' 
 
 232
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bell laughed. "But he's nice, 
 you know." 
 
 "Oh, yes, my dear. So are fresh 
 eggs and spring chickens. ' ' 
 
 "Mrs. McAlpine was at church, 
 too," she went on presently. "The 
 first time for four years, she told me." 
 
 "Poor thing! She's had a hard 
 life," said Mrs. Bell, sympathetically. 
 
 "Well, there she was this morning 
 in a new 'bunnet,' and a new gown 
 and shoes and gloves, and she told me 
 that gettin' into heaven would never 
 be any 'graunder' than what she felt 
 when she walked into church with all 
 her new clothes on her back." 
 
 Mrs. Bell looked up suddenly. "But 
 how in the world did she get money 
 enough for all this splurge so soon? 
 She told me she would have to wait 
 and see how her garden did this sum- 
 mer." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney was excited by her 
 233
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 morning's experiences, otherwise her 
 usually cool head would have found a 
 way out for her. 
 
 "Why, what I gave her " then as 
 Mrs. Bell's blank look gave way to one 
 of scarlet comprehension "oh, my 
 dear, it was nothing. Yes, you paid 
 her quite enough, but she's prudent, 
 and Scotch, too, and diphtheria's a 
 risky thing to nurse. Oh, I am so 
 ashamed of myself. What was I think- 
 ing of? But she wouldn't have done 
 it for anybody else but me, my dear. 
 And you had to have the very best 
 nurse that could be got, you know, 
 for it was touch and go with you for 
 days." 
 
 Mrs. Bell looked at her with glisten- 
 ing eyes. "And you let us think " 
 
 "My dear, never mind what I let 
 you think." 
 
 "Oh, but I just feel so overwhelmed 
 that I don't know what to do," said 
 234
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bell, so mournfully that Mrs. 
 Bradney laughed. 
 
 "Well, you might give me Laurie 
 for one thing, ' ' she said, lightly. "I'm 
 not going to let him come in to see 
 you to-day, for after he came back the 
 last time he mourned for his mother, 
 as Mrs. McAlpine would say. And 
 he's coming home anyway on Fri- 
 day." 
 
 As they sat at dinner that day 
 Laurie suddenly said : 
 
 "You never taught me any script 
 of texture last week, Auntie Rell." 
 His tone was clearly reproachful. 
 "And it was in the Gospel of George, 
 too." 
 
 "That was too bad. Do all the lit- 
 tle boys and girls learn one, Laurie?" 
 
 "Yes. And I didn't have any. 
 And I was so 'shamed of myself, 
 Auntie Rell. So I just said 'Little 
 Jack Horner' instead." 
 235
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Oh, Laurie Bell! Think of your 
 poor mother," groaned Mrs. Bradney. 
 
 "Did you know that this was Abra- 
 ham's birthday?" he asked, after he 
 had hurried an alarming amount of 
 food into himself. 
 
 "You mean Abraham Lincoln, 
 Laurie." 
 
 "Yes, Auntie Rell. That's what 
 teacher said, too. But he didn't kill 
 Isaac after all. He undid him and let 
 him go free, because he was black." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney wrestled with this sub- 
 ject for some time, but quite unsuc- 
 cessfully, for Laurie, having once 
 received it into his mind that Abra- 
 ham Patriarch and Abraham Lincoln 
 were one and the same person, saw 
 no reason for lightly parting with his 
 faith. Miss Walker's delicately spun 
 analogies had been sown upon too 
 eager ground, apparently. 
 
 "But didn't you think it was a very 
 236
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 drizzly sermon this morning, Auntie 
 Rell?" 
 
 "Drizzly? I don't know what you 
 mean by that, Laurie." 
 
 "You don't? Why, doesn't that 
 word mean anything to you, Auntie 
 Rell? Listen now! Drizzly! A 
 driz z z ly sermon !" 
 
 "Well, yes, Laurie; I really believe 
 it means a good deal," said Mrs. 
 Bradney, laughing. "In fact, in this 
 case it strikes me as an absolutely 
 inspired description. ' ' 
 
 "You know there was a nigger sat 
 behind us, Auntie Rell. He smelt 
 niggerish." 
 
 "Oh, but Laurie, I don't think he 
 was a colored man at all, and besides, 
 you couldn't smell him over five 
 pews." 
 
 "Not smell him over five pews, 
 Auntie Rell? Why, I could smell 
 that niggerish smell a mile." 
 237
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 That afternoon Mrs. Bradney was 
 kept hard at work reading the "Pil- 
 grim's Progress. ' ' She did not like it ; 
 she thought it very gory, but Laurie 
 smacked his lips over its most san- 
 guinary details with all the zest of a 
 prize-fighter. Then she tried the 
 "Story of the Bible" for a change, and 
 it amazed her to see how unerringly 
 the child caught the moral of its 
 ancient histories, and what odd fancies 
 of his own he wove among them. 
 
 "Do you know why the Israelites 
 were called that, Auntie Rell?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Well, it was because they loved 
 God and had the light, but the Mid- 
 ianites and the Canaanites and the 
 Ammonites were called nights because 
 they were the heathen that sat in dark- 
 ness, Auntie Rell." 
 
 Of course the child was a care and 
 an anxiety to her, and he upset all her 
 238
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 stated ways of living, and she won- 
 dered sometimes why she had under- 
 taken the charge of him at all ; but, as 
 she often said to Vandelia, "he was 
 such a good child," and that sufficed 
 for an excuse, which did not hoodwink 
 Vandelia in the least, however. But 
 his going back to his mother was 
 something of which she did not encour- 
 age herself to think. 
 
 The next day, however, he was so 
 really naughty that Mrs. Bradney went 
 away to her room at last with an air 
 of offended majesty, which worried 
 Laurie so much that he was deter- 
 mined she should never suspect it. In 
 a few minutes she heard his heavy lit- 
 tle feet tumbling up the stairs after her. 
 He flung open the door and showed 
 himself, red and stamping. 
 
 "You're a bad girl, Auntie Rell," 
 he said, vehemently "a very bad 
 girl"; and then he quickly took the 
 239
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 key out of her door, and locked it on 
 the other side. 
 
 For a moment Mrs. Bradney stared 
 at the door in blank amazement at this 
 audacity. Then she began to laugh 
 silently, and the more she thought 
 about it the more she laughed. 
 
 "Now will you be good?" came in 
 peremptory demand from the other 
 side of the door. But there was no 
 response, and after he had asked the 
 question a great many times Laurie 
 at last unlocked the door, impelled 
 thereto by a variety of emotions. It 
 had even occurred to him that Mrs. 
 Bradney might be dead. So that 
 when he discovered her, calm and se- 
 vere as before, he felt himself freshly 
 insulted. 
 
 "Now are you going to be good?" 
 he stormed, more imperiously than 
 before. "Because if you're not, I 
 shall have to lock you up again." 
 240
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 But suddenly his mood changed, and 
 without a hint of warning he threw 
 himself towards her, crying out : 
 
 "Oh, Auntie Rell, I so misabul, I 
 so misabul!" 
 
 She gathered him tenderly into her 
 arms, and after a while they talked 
 about it, and the sun shone again in 
 Laurie's darkened little heart. But 
 Mrs. Bradney could not forget the 
 troubled cry. She knew, too, what it 
 meant to be so "misabul." 
 
 After the child had spent his soul in 
 the joys of contrition, he studied Mrs. 
 Bradney for a time in silence. At last 
 he said with an air of delicate restraint : 
 "Auntie Rell, there's something I 
 must talk to you about. When Mrs. 
 McAlpine comes to see you I wish you 
 wouldn't send me out of the room to 
 see Vandelia, 'specially when you're 
 going to talk about things you don't 
 want me to hear. Because, you know, 
 241
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 there's nothing I want to hear so badly 
 as what you don't want me to hear, 
 of course." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney leaned back in her 
 chair and began to laugh. 
 
 "Well, Laurie, I think a great many 
 people have felt just as you do, but I 
 must say I never heard anybody so 
 refreshingly frank about it. But there 
 isn't anybody here now, so you won't 
 miss anything, and you had better run 
 out and find Brazil, for I know he has 
 something in the barn he wants to 
 show you." 
 
 A few moments later he rushed 
 screaming into the kitchen. 
 
 "Why, Vandelia, there's a new kind 
 of a dog out there. And it's lying 
 down just so close to Snowfoot." 
 
 After that he made a trip to the 
 barn about every third minute for the 
 rest of the day. 
 
 "But Brazil says it isn't any sort of 
 242
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 a dog at all," he announced at last. 
 "He says it's a calf, and that it belongs 
 to Snowfoot. But what is a calf, 
 Vandelia?" 
 
 "Same thing as a full-grown man 
 lots of times," said Vandelia, grimly; 
 "just about every time, in fact, but 
 this particular calf will be a cow one 
 of these days, child." 
 
 "Then I hope it'll be a black one," 
 said Laurie, fervently. "Black cows 
 must give black milk, don't they, Van- 
 delia?" 
 
 "Well, I've seem some milk that 
 looked mighty like it was raised by a 
 black cow, but I don't know as any of 
 'em advertise themselves as a specialty 
 on that line, Laurie." 
 
 " 'Frank, Frank, turned a crank, 
 His mother came out and gave him a spank," " 
 
 sang the child gaily. He was in the 
 ecstasy of happiness which only the
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 little one who has been naughty and 
 been forgiven knows anything about. 
 
 "Hunh! You don't know what 
 spank means," said Vandelia, eying 
 him severely. "Else you'd never 
 have been such a tormenting, little, 
 good-for-nothing, useless shape of an 
 aggravating boy as you've been this 
 day." 
 
 "Yes, I do know," contended 
 Laurie. "It means, 'Frank, don't 
 you turn that crank any more.' ' 
 
 "Well, I'm beat," said Vandelia, 
 and gave him a cooky to prove it. 
 
 244
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 "This is the joy fullest day of my 
 life, Auntie Rell. Know why? Why, 
 'cause I'm going back to my own dear 
 mamma. " 
 
 Laurie was sitting up in his crib, a 
 little, pale blue night-gowned figure, 
 hugging itself in a passion of prospec- 
 tive ecstasy, his sweet face pink and 
 eager, his eyes deep with far-sighted 
 yearning for his mother. 
 
 But his words were like stabs to Mrs. 
 Bradney. After breakfast he flew 
 hither and yon, in breathless farewell 
 to everything. He found it hard to 
 part with Snowfoot, but he assured 
 the calf that if it was good it should 
 behold him again. He packed and 
 repacked his toys as solicitously as if 
 245
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 they were bound for the remotest 
 planet, and he finally capped the morn- 
 ing's disjointed performances by a 
 mood of the tenderest relenting, m 
 which he commissioned Vandelia to 
 tell Mary Pinch that most likely he 
 would marry her, as perhaps if they 
 lived together long enough their hair 
 would come to be the same color. 
 
 "Of course, she's older than I am, 
 Vandelia, but I shan't mind that, for 
 you see she'd be able to take such 
 good care of me, then, when I'm a 
 man." 
 
 "Land of Goshen!" exclaimed Van- 
 delia. "If that ain't for all the world 
 like all the rest of the men. But it 
 strikes me you're finding out pretty 
 early what a triflin' thing a man is 
 without a woman to hold him up." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney drove him home, but 
 she did not go in with him. 
 
 "I suppose there will be a regular 
 246
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 scene when he gets back to his 
 mother," she thought, irritably. 
 
 It did not occur to her that she 
 was jealous. And so Laurie burst in 
 alone upon Mrs. Bell like a whirling 
 dervish. 
 
 "Oh, mamma, mamma! how I wish 
 you and I had been born on the same 
 day!" he exclaimed, ecstatically, as 
 soon as he could find his voice. 
 "Then we could have spent all our 
 lives just loving each other all the 
 time. And where 's papa? Does he 
 know I've got two cats? You'll just 
 love Circe, mamma. She's such a 
 manly cat, only I don't think a girl cat 
 looks nice with so many whiskers. But 
 they're both all full of bones inside, 
 plain bones, and round bones, and all 
 shapes of clapper bones." 
 
 "Clapper bones, Laurie?" 
 
 "Why, yes. Don't you know, 
 mamma? Auntie Rell does. You 
 247
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 get them out of the roast sometimes, 
 only the man in the store calls them 
 ribs. And you put them between your 
 fingers, like this, and then they make 
 oh, a lovely noise!" 
 
 Laurie looked poetic. 
 
 "Esau and Circe gave a bone party 
 in the back yard yesterday. Not their 
 own bones, you know, mamma. The 
 chicken-we-had-for-dinner's bones. I 
 think about a hundred cats came. 
 But Auntie Rell's a heathen. Did 
 you know it?" 
 
 "Oh, Laurie, dear! You mustn't 
 say such things. 
 
 "Oh, but she is, mamma. She 
 doesn't say her prayers, because I 
 watched to see. And I talked to her 
 about that. And she said she would. 
 She promised." 
 
 Then Mrs. Bell said nothing. It 
 seemed safer merely to think. 
 
 After Laurie was gone Vandelia 
 248
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 wandered aimlessly about the silent 
 rooms, picking up the last remnants of 
 his litter, about which she had so often 
 scolded him. But when she had 
 restored everything to its immaculate 
 formality again she looked about her 
 angrily. 
 
 "It ain't looked like this once since 
 he came," she muttered. "Such a 
 tormentin', restless, little, uprootin' 
 racket of a chap I never came across. ' ' 
 
 She clattered noisily upstairs, the 
 house suddenly struck her as so hope- 
 lessly still. Then she sat down to 
 sew, "in peace." But the work was 
 fine and the afternoon growing dull, 
 and presently she threw it down im- 
 patiently and clasped her idle hands 
 over her knee. 
 
 A smile gathered about her stiff lips. 
 
 "He certainly is the cutest child," 
 she whispered, grudgingly. 
 
 But she shook this mood off sharply. 
 249
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "Come!" she said, briskly. "Guess 
 I'll make some scones for supper." 
 
 She bustled down to the kitchen, 
 as if in great stress of preparation, 
 but after she had surrounded herself 
 with the necessary things she pushed 
 them from her in sudden impatience. 
 
 "Yes, she'll eat one scone perhaps 
 two, only she never does. And I'll 
 eat two. And here's all this fuss and 
 fire to bake four scones!" She shook 
 her fist at the wall. "I tell you I 
 ain't goin' to do it." She slapped 
 the things back into their places. 
 "Seems somehow just as if there' d 
 been a funeral in the house." 
 
 That was what Mrs. Bradney 
 thought as Brazil drove her in lonely 
 state back to the house on the hill. 
 She shivered as she went in, and 
 instead of going upstairs at once she 
 sat down in the warm dining-room, 
 and pulled vaguely at her bonnet 
 250
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 strings. The room was growing gray 
 and dim; this had been Laurie's tired 
 time, when he demanded "cuddling" 
 and a gory tale. She remembered 
 now with an odd little pang her utter 
 surprise the first time he had auda- 
 ciously settled himself in her elegant 
 black silk lap, and calmly remarked: 
 "Now begin. Because if you don't, 
 the oh-dearing time will begin, and 
 that's awful." 
 
 "But begin what? And what is 
 the oh-dearing time?" she had inquired 
 in bewilderment. 
 
 "Why, it's when you go like this 
 all the time, Auntie Rell: 'Oh, dear! 
 What can I do now? Oh, dear! I wish 
 somebody would read to me! Oh, 
 dear!' Like that don't you see, 
 Auntie Rell? Mamma says it makes 
 her crazy." 
 
 "Well, but what shall I begin?" 
 inquired Mrs. Bradney, helplessly. 
 25'
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Stones had never been much in her 
 line. 
 
 "Oh, I like the story of Ulysses 
 best, but perhaps you don't know 
 much about that?" 
 
 "I'm afraid I've forgotten some," 
 said Mrs. Bradney, anxiously. 
 
 "Well, Daniel in the lions' den's a 
 good one, only you've got to make 
 the lions roar until you're awful hoarse, 
 Auntie Rell." 
 
 How ridiculous she had felt that 
 evening, taking her first lesson in story- 
 telling from a little child, and how 
 lonely she felt now ! She was still sit- 
 ting there, dreaming, when Vandelia 
 came in to set the supper-table. 
 
 "Well, he's gone," she said at last, 
 planting herself in front of Mrs. Brad- 
 ney; "and it's a good thing, too, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 Mrs. Bradney looked at her in dig- 
 nified surprise. 
 
 252
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 "You're glad, aren't you?" per- 
 sisted Vandelia, recklessly. "Now 
 we'll have peace and quiet in this great 
 big house, and lots of room to spread 
 ourselves." 
 
 "Vandelia, what is the matter with 
 you?" 
 
 Vandelia eyed her unflinchingly. 
 
 "I heard something just now." 
 
 Mrs. Bradney rose instantly and 
 went upstairs. 
 
 But what had Vandelia heard? The 
 question lay deep in her heart; the 
 answer lay there, too. 
 
 The next day she went down to 
 inquire for Mrs. Bell and Laurie. At 
 least she admitted no other errand to 
 herself. 
 
 When she came home Vandelia hov- 
 ered about her, eager-eyed, but Mrs. 
 Bradney gave no sign. She toiled 
 through the long evening over some 
 plain hemming, which bore more 
 253
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 resemblance to a severe attack of 
 hieroglyphics than anything else, but 
 she was bound to keep up appearances, 
 especially to herself. She had a des- 
 perate feeling that she must avoid 
 admitting to herself what she was 
 really all the time thinking of. 
 
 But hours later, long after all the 
 lights were out, and when the lone- 
 liness about her was vibrant with the 
 dark terrors of the night she sat up 
 still, grappling with the agony which 
 sank her soul in the unsounded deeps 
 of despair. 
 
 As the wind without rose from a 
 whistling wail into the wild sweep of a 
 hurricane, she cruelly rehearsed again 
 and again the few faltering words in 
 which Mrs. Bell had told her the news 
 about Hilary. 
 
 "She is dreadfully ill. They do not 
 know " 
 
 Ah! her mother's heart had beaten 
 254
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 down all the barriers about it then. 
 At that moment her only thought had 
 been, how to reach her child soonest. 
 And then "This morning they tele- 
 graphed for Mrs. Hessemer. She had 
 just ten minutes to catch the express. " 
 
 Even now, alone in the darkness, 
 she cowered beneath the remembrance 
 of the words which had cankered her 
 tenderest impulses to the quivering 
 core of them. Mrs. Hessemer with 
 Hilary! In the place which was hers 
 alone! The blood flew in scorching 
 streaks through her veins at the 
 thought of it. 
 
 She was not a superstitious woman, 
 but there came a time in that dark 
 night of storm and destruction when, 
 above the screaming fury of the wind, 
 she heard Hilary's voice in unending 
 entreaty, "Mother, mother, come!" 
 They were the last words of the child's 
 letter that pathetic, pleading letter 
 255
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 which had come to her weeks before, 
 but now they were instinct with life 
 and terror for her. There ! She heard 
 the cry again. It was Hilary. The 
 child was dying, and she had not gone 
 to her. 
 
 She sank down, helpless and moan- 
 ing, upon her knees, only to start up 
 again at a terrific crash outside in the 
 whirling nightmare of the storm. She 
 could bear it alone no longer, and 
 throwing open her door she hurried 
 down the long corridor, past the be- 
 sieging echoes of empty rooms, until 
 she reached Vandelia's quarters. 
 
 "Vandelia! Vandelia!" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," cried Vandelia, 
 wakefully. "My! But I'm real glad 
 to see you. Come in," she added, 
 with effusive hospitality. "My! I've 
 been lying here near scared into fits. I 
 don't suppose there's a tree left stand- 
 ing on this place." 
 256
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Mrs. Bradney sat down quite calmly. 
 Now that she was within sound of a 
 human voice the frantic terror which 
 had possessed her gave way to reason, 
 and she was at once her usual con- 
 trolled self again, and her suffering 
 just the cold agony of despair not a 
 near dread of those mysterious forces 
 which had assailed her like myriad- 
 tongued demons in the lonely darkness. 
 
 "Yes, Vandelia. I was afraid you 
 would be frightened," she said, con- 
 siderately. 
 
 But Vandelia was not deceived. 
 She knew very well what had brought 
 Mrs. Bradney to her door that night. 
 
 "Give in? No, she'll never give in. 
 She ain't built that way, and it's too 
 late to tear up her foundations now. 
 It'll take more than a thunder-storm 
 to move her. It'll require a whole 
 earthquake right under her two feet." 
 
 But Hilary did not die. She got 
 257
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 better, very slowly, as Mrs. Bell almost 
 unwillingly admitted to Mrs. Bradney. 
 "But no, Douglas! I won't tell her 
 one thing about that baby. She's just 
 dying to know something. But I 
 won't. No, I won't!" 
 
 Which defiant determination doubt- 
 less led to her saying the very next 
 day to Mrs. Bradney: 
 
 "I think he must be the breathing 
 image of his mother, from all I hear." 
 
 "His mother? He? Who?" fal- 
 tered Mrs. Bradney, startled into un- 
 witting speech by a remark far more dis- 
 concerting to her than the unannounced 
 appearance of a mad dog in that peace- 
 ful parlor could possibly have been. 
 
 "Why, Hilary's baby, of course!" 
 exclaimed Mrs. Bell, hardily. "I de- 
 clare the little lords of creation are 
 having it all their own way just now. 
 Mrs. Todd has a little boy, and so has 
 Mrs. Balkema." 
 
 258
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 And with that she digressed cruelly 
 into the merest trivialities of current 
 gossip, all the time shrewdly conscious 
 of the smothered passion she had so 
 skillfully fired beneath that cold, calm 
 glacier. 
 
 Hilary's baby! Hilary's little boy! 
 A fair blue-eyed darling tugging at her 
 heart-strings day after day with pink, 
 dimpled fists. 
 
 But no! 
 
 When, in time, Hugo's mother re- 
 turned, it seemed the most natural 
 thing in the world for Mrs. Bell to call 
 on the gentle old lady, and listen to 
 her pretty stories about the most 
 wonderful baby who had ever lived. 
 
 "He's the picture of mine Hugo," 
 she said, proudly. "But then his 
 mother she is^ one luffly young 
 maiden." 
 
 It was now that Mrs. Bell became a 
 diplomat indeed. For she contrived 
 259
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 in the most glaringly innocent way to 
 let Mrs. Bradney know that she pos- 
 sessed mines of information about that 
 baby, and gradually, in response to 
 the fierce craving which she divined 
 in the proud, silent mother she fell 
 into the habit of retailing to her every 
 little scrap of knowledge she had gath- 
 ered. 
 
 "I just experimented this afternoon, 
 Douglas," she said one night to her 
 husband. "I talked of nothing but 
 Hilary and the baby. I told her ex- 
 actly how all his clothes are made, even 
 down to how many tucks his best dress 
 has, and she just sat there, never say- 
 ing one word until I simply had to 
 stop from sheer lack of imagination. 
 If I could have kept on, she'd be here 
 still." 
 
 "And yet she never asks anything 
 about Mrs. Hessemer herself?" 
 
 "No, not a thing. Somehow, it 
 260
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 seems to me she can't. She's just 
 dying to see Hilary and the baby, but 
 a kind of paralysis has come over her. 
 Oh, yes, you may laugh, but I tell you 
 she has really lost the power to will 
 herself to do what she wants to do 
 more than anything else in the world." 
 
 A few days after this, as Mrs. Brad- 
 ney and Mrs. Bell were sitting out on 
 the veranda at Hill House, Mrs. Bell 
 said suddenly: 
 
 "It's too bad that Hilary's feeling 
 so miserable again, isn't it? You see 
 that baby's such a great, strong thing, 
 and will frolic by night as well as by 
 day, and she's got such a wretched 
 girl, so what can you expect? I sup- 
 pose she really needs a change of air. 
 Oh, how lovely and fresh it is up here !" 
 
 The air was sweet with the prodigal 
 perfume of spring blossoms, and throb- 
 bing with the exultant color of tulips 
 flaunting in red and yellow riot over 
 261
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 the dull brown earth. Snowy clusters 
 of guelder roses starred the mingled 
 tints of the leaf-green trees, and lilacs 
 shook their scented sprays at every 
 whispering breeze. Broad seed-sown 
 acres and daisied meadow, with here 
 and there an orchard pink and white 
 with harvest promise, made exquisitely 
 fair the face of this furrowed field of 
 time. Far away, cresting the ragged 
 ridge of the hilltop, three lonely pines 
 spiked with their slender spires the 
 blue eternity above them. 
 
 "I tell you," cried Mrs. Bell, impul- 
 sively, "this is the kind of thing that 
 Hilary needs." A quiver passed over 
 Mrs. Bradney's face. How old and 
 worn she looked! 
 
 ''If she were anybody else, she 
 would be ill," thought Mrs. Bell, 
 sagely, as she watched her. And then 
 a sudden inspiring thought came to the 
 little woman. It pursued her as she 
 262
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 tripped down the hill with Laurie trot- 
 ting beside her, with a mouth full of 
 "whats" and "whys," to which, for 
 once, she paid no heed. 
 
 When she reached home she broke 
 riotously into the study. 
 
 "Oh, Douglas! I'm going to write 
 to her. She must come home now, 
 at once. Without asking, you know. 
 She must just write and say she's com- 
 ing. Mrs. Bradney will die. That's 
 simply going to be the end of it if she 
 doesn't." 
 
 Mr. Bell looked up slowly from his 
 half-written sermon. 
 
 "What? Who? Which? When? 
 She will and she won't. She'll be 
 dead if she does, and she'll be dead if 
 she don't! Now, Betty " 
 
 "Oh, yes, you dear old mazy mind! 
 
 I suppose you don't know yet whether 
 
 it's Peter or Paul or James or John 
 
 I'm talking about. But that doesn't 
 
 263
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 matter. That letter's going to-night, 
 anyway." 
 
 It went. Mr. Bell held his breath 
 while he read it, and secretly wondered 
 how much longer they were likely to 
 be permitted to remain in Sand Har- 
 bor if his wife would insist upon manip- 
 ulating the personal affairs of the 
 parishioners in this wise. 
 
 "Doesn't it seem to you, Betty," 
 he ventured mildly, "that it reads 
 rather as if the invitation came directly 
 from Mrs. Bradney?" 
 
 "Why, of course it does," rejoined 
 his wife, heartily. "That's just the 
 beauty of it. You don't suppose Mrs. 
 Hessemer would come home if she sus- 
 pected that I had concocted the whole 
 scheme myself, do you? 
 
 "Isn't it a little risky?" 
 
 "Risky? Well, I should just think 
 so, Douglas Bell. It's magnificently 
 risky. It's like jumping from the top 
 264
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 of the clock-tower bang into a basket 
 of eggs, with the distinct understand- 
 ing that you're not to break any. No, 
 dear; of course a man couldn't do 
 that, but a woman well, you'll see." 
 
 The letter was certainly a marvel of 
 strategy. It described Hill House, 
 how beautiful the garden was looking, 
 how lonely Mrs. Bradney was, and 
 how delicate her health was this year; 
 in the middle of it nestled a remark of 
 Vandelia's which brought the tears in 
 a quick rush to Hilary's eyes, and it 
 ended by saying: "Don't write your 
 mother a letter. That isn't what she 
 wants. Just send one line with the 
 day and the train, and come at 
 once." 
 
 Hilary took the letter to her hus- 
 band, and laid her cheek against his 
 while he read it. When he had fin- 
 ished he pushed her away from him 
 and looked at her. Her eyes were 
 265
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 bright ; there was a lovely color in her 
 thin face. 
 
 "Why, my darling, you're better 
 already," he exclaimed. 
 
 "But you," she persisted. "I 
 couldn't leave you." Her lips 
 touched his hair. 
 
 "Of course you couldn't. But if 
 we were both away, that would seem 
 different, wouldn't it? You know, 
 last week when they begged me to 
 undertake that geological survey up 
 North such a big chance for me, 
 dear I couldn't see how I could go 
 just now, for I couldn't take you and 
 the baby on such a rough trip, and I 
 couldn't leave you here alone. And 
 mother is too old now to be kept on 
 the go between here and Sand Har- 
 bor. So I just made up my mind not 
 to say anything to you about it, but 
 now you see I could go, and easily come 
 for you on my way back, perhaps." 
 266
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 They talked about it for a long 
 time, but at last it was settled, and 
 Hilary said with a happy sigh : 
 
 "Of course, Hugo, this letter is just 
 as much mother's as if she had written 
 it herself. Mrs. Bell doesn't say so, 
 but I can tell. Why, she wouldn't 
 dare to write that letter if mother 
 hadn't virtually asked her to. Moth- 
 er's just too proud to do it herself. 
 That's all. But do you think I mind 
 that?" 
 
 Three days later, as Vandelia was 
 busily ironing in the big, old-fashioned 
 kitchen, with its wide windows open to 
 the fairy showers of the blossom-bur- 
 dened trees, Mrs. Bradney came in with 
 a strangely ceremonious air, which was 
 peculiarly enhanced by the light in 
 her eyes and the trembling of her lips. 
 
 "Vandelia, I expect Mrs. Hessemer 
 and the baby about four o'clock to- 
 morrow afternoon. I have been very 
 267
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 anxious for her to come for some time, 
 and it just happens that she can leave 
 home most conveniently now." 
 
 Vandelia sat down in a chair with 
 the flatiron in her lap. It burnt a 
 brown triangle in her apron, and then 
 she got up and plumped it down on 
 the table with its nice new oilcloth. 
 Then she looked out of the window, 
 and furtively wiped her useful if not 
 strictly ornamental nose. She after- 
 wards admitted that it was the only 
 time in her life when she had known 
 what it was to feel "real grovellin' 
 pious." 
 
 By the middle of the next morning 
 Hill House had taken on a festival air, 
 such as it had never worn before. For 
 Mrs. Bell had casually dropped in, and 
 learning, to her great surprise, that 
 they were expecting Mrs. Hessemer, 
 she had kindly offered her services in 
 the preparations through which Mrs. 
 268
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 Bradney and Vandelia were hurrying. 
 She filled the rooms with spring flow- 
 ers, and coaxed Brazil's finest plants 
 away from him to brighten up dull 
 corners. 
 
 "Well, you have had to hurry, with 
 such a short notice," she said, sym- 
 pathetically, to Vandelia. 
 
 "Hurry! I should say so. There's 
 been so many different things to do all 
 at once that I feel as if I'd been driven 
 from Dan to Beersheba ever since four 
 this morning. 'Vandelia, we must 
 have your rusks for supper. There's 
 nothing Mrs. Hessemer used to like 
 better.' And, 'Vandelia, are you sure 
 the carpet in the south room was up 
 in the spring?' 'Oh, Vandelia, I wish 
 we'd sent those curtains to the laundry 
 this morning. They could have had 
 them back in time, under the circum- 
 stances.' It's just been like that all 
 the time. But do you think I mind?" 
 269
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 added Vandelia, significantly. "She 
 hasn't looked like she does to-day, 
 not for years. ' ' 
 
 A little later in the morning Van- 
 delia and Laurie collided violently in 
 one of the upstairs corridors as he was 
 carrying some splendid ox-eyed daisies 
 to Mrs. Hessemer's room. 
 
 "Well, Vandelia," he remarked be- 
 tween sobs, as he feelingly rubbed the 
 rising bump on his head, "I'd just 
 like to know which way you thought 
 you were going then." 
 
 "Which way, child?" 
 
 "Yes; to Dan or Beersheba, of 
 course," he retorted in highly injured 
 tones. 
 
 At last, when they could all think 
 of nothing more to do, they studied 
 the time-table over and over again. 
 
 "She'll get to the Junction at two," 
 said Vandelia. "My! But she'll be 
 tired! And all that bother there, 
 270
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 changing, with that great baby in her 
 arms, too." 
 
 Mrs. Bell looked up quickly. 
 
 "Why, there's a train from here to 
 the Junction this morning. You'd 
 just have time to catch it, Mrs. Brad- 
 ney, and then you could help her 
 through the very worst part of her 
 journey." 
 
 And so, while they all talked at 
 once, Mrs. Bell buttoned on her 
 shoes, while Vandelia tied on her bon- 
 net, and Laurie tucked unheeded a 
 bunch of dandelions into her dress. 
 
 "Auntie Rell, do you know what I 
 think?" he said, as he surveyed her 
 contentedly. "I think you look as if 
 you had a kiss in your heart for every- 
 body this morning." 
 
 "So I have, child," she said, 
 brokenly, as she bent over him, and 
 then she was gone. 
 
 But later, as she paced restlessly up 
 271
 
 Little Lords .of Creation 
 
 and down the Junction platform, her 
 mind kept nervously returning to the 
 cruel night when she had stolen her 
 last look at the child who had once 
 loved only her. 
 
 But when the longed-for train swept 
 into sight around the curve, she re- 
 membered only that the moment of 
 her yearning hopes had come when she 
 should welcome that child home to her 
 heart once more. 
 
 "Why, mother!" 
 
 "There, there, Hilary! Child, 
 you'll wake him! Wait, give him to 
 me. You aren't fit to hold him. 
 Besides, you've crumpled his ear inside 
 his bonnet. You must never do that. 
 It would soon spoil their shape." 
 
 "But, mother" 
 
 "Why, of course, child. Did you 
 think I was going to let you worry 
 through all this alone, after such a 
 journey with a great boy like this?" 
 272
 
 Little Lords of Creation 
 
 She feasted her eyes on him for a 
 moment. Then she said, proudly: 
 "But he's every inch a Bradney." 
 And Hilary only laughed. 
 
 273
 
 PRINTED BY R. R. DONNELLEY 
 AND SONS COMPANY AT THE 
 LAKESIDE PRESS, CHICAGO, ILL.
 
 A 000121398 2