Say, what in the name of peace have you let me in for now? I hope to goodness mamma won't find it out. She'd have a pink fit! Say! is this a joke, or what? I believe you're putting one over on me!"

"Search me, Gila! I'm all in the dark! Give me a line on it and I'll tell you."

"Well, what do you think that crazy nut has pulled off now? Wants me to go to church with him! Of all things! And down in some queer slum place, too! If I get into a sc.r.a.pe you'll have to promise to help me out, or mamma'll never let me free from a chaperon again. And I had to make Artley Guelpin, and Turner Bailey sore, too, by telling them I was sick and they couldn't come and try over those new dance-steps to-night as I'd promised. If I get into the papers or anything I'll have a long score to settle with you."

"Oh, cut that out, Gila! You'll not get into any sc.r.a.pe with Court. He's all right. He's only nuts about religion just now, and seems to be set on sampling all kinds of churches. Say! that's a good one, though, for you to go to church with him! I must tell the fellows. Keep it up, Guile, old girl! You'll pull the fat out of the fire yet. You're just the one to go along and counteract the pious line. You should worry about Artley Guelpin and Turner Bailey! You can't keep either of them sore; they haven't got back bone enough to stay so. If it's the same dump Court took Tennelly to this morning you'll get your money's worth, all right. Nelly said it was a scream."

Bill Ward came back, grinning from ear to ear. Every few minutes during the rest of the meal he broke out in a broad grin and looked at Courtland, who was absorbed in his own thoughts; and then he would slap Tennelly on the shoulder and say: "Ho! boy! It's a rare one!" But it was not until Courtland had hurried away after his lady that Bill gave forth his information.

"Oh, Nelly!" he burst forth. "Court's going to take Gila to church! You don't suppose he'll take her to that dump where he led you this morning, do you? I can see her nose go up now. I thought I'd croak when she told me! Wait till you hear her call me up on the 'phone when she gets home!

She'll give me the worst balling out I ever had! And Aunt Nina would have apoplexy if she knew her 'darlin' pet' was going into that part of town! Oh, boy! Set me on my feet or I'll die laughing!"

Tennelly regarded Bill Ward with solemn consternation. "Do you mean to tell me that Court has asked your cousin to go to that camp-meeting hole where he took me this morning? Cut out the kidding and tell me straight!

Well, then, Bill, it's serious, and we've got to do something! We can't have a fellow like Court spoiled for life. He's gone stale, that's what's the matter; he's gone stale! He's got to have strenuous measures to pull him up."

"He sure has!" said Bill Ward, soberly, getting up from the couch where he had been rolling in his mirth. "What can we do? What about these business ambitions of his? Couldn't we work him that way? For Court's got a great head on him, you know! I thought Gila would do the business, but if he's rung in religion on her it's all up, I'm afraid. But business is a different thing. Not even Court could mix business and religion, for they won't fit together!"

"That's the trouble," said Tennelly, thoughtfully. "If it gets out what's the matter with Court he won't stand half a chance. I was thinking of my uncle Ramsey, out in Chicago. He has large financial interests in the West; he often wants promising men to take charge of some big thing, and it means a dandy opening; big money and no end of social and political pull to get into one of his berths. He's promised me one when I'm done college, and I was going to talk to him about Court. He's twice the man I am and just what Uncle Ramsey wants. He's coming on East next week, and likely to stop over. I might see what I can do."

"That's just the thing, Nelly. Go to it, old man! Write unc. a letter to-night. Nothing like giving a lot of dope beforehand."

"That's an idea! I will!" and Tennelly went to his desk and began to write.

Meantime Gila awaited Courtland's coming, attired in a most startling costume of blue velvet and ermine, with high laced white kid boots, and a hat that resembled a fresh, white setting-hen, tied down to her pert little face with a veil whose large-meshed surface was broken by a single design, a large black b.u.t.terfly anch.o.r.ed just across her dainty little nose. A most astonishing costume in which to appear in the Rev.

John Burns's unpretentious little church crowded with the canaille of the city!

It was the first time that Courtland had ever felt that Gila was a little loud in her dress!

CHAPTER XIX

Mother Marshall got strenuously to her feet from the low ha.s.sock on which she had been sitting to sew the carpet, and trotted to the head of the stairs.

"Father!" she called, happily. "Oh, Father! It's all done! I just set the last st.i.tch. You can bring your hammer and tacks. Better bring your rubbers, too. You'll need them when you come to stretch it."

Father hurried up so quickly it was clear he had the hammer and rubbers all ready.

"You'll need a saucer to put the tacks in!" and Mother Marshall hustled away to get it. When she came back the carpet was spread out smoothly and Father stood surveying the effect.

"Say, now, it looks real pretty, don't it?" he said, looking up at the walls and down to the floor.

"It certainly does!" declared Mother Marshall. "And I'm real glad the man made us take this plain pink paper. It didn't look much to me when he first brought it out, I must confess. I had set my heart on stripes with pink roses in it. But when he said 'felt,' why that settled it because that article in the magazine said felt papers were the best for general wear and satisfaction. And then when he brought out that roll with the cherry blossoms on it for a stripe around the top, I was just all happy down my spine, it did look so kind of bridey and pretty, like our cherry orchard on a spring evening when the pink is in the sky. And that white molding between 'em is going to be real handy to hang the pictures on. The man gave me some little bra.s.s picture-hooks. See, they fit right over the molding. Of course, there isn't but one picture, but she'll maybe have some of her own and like it all the better if the wall isn't all cluttered full. You know the magazine said have 'a few good pictures.' I mean to hang it up right now and see how it looks! There!

Doesn't that look pretty against the pink? I wasn't sure about the white frame, it was so plain, but I like it. Those apple blossoms against that blue piece of sky look real natural, don't they. You like it, don't you, Father?"

"Well, I should say I did," said Father, as he scuffed a corner of the carpet into place with his rubbered feet. "Say, this carpet is some thick, Mother, as I guess your fingers will testify, having sewed all those long seams. 'Member how Stevie used to sit on the carpet ahead of your seams when he was a baby, and laugh and clap his hands when you couldn't sew any further because he was in the way?"

"Yes, wasn't he the sweetest baby!" said Mother Marshall, with a bright tear glinting suddenly down her cheek. "Why, Father, sometimes I can't really make it seem true that he's all done with this life and gone ahead of us into the next one. It won't be hard dying, for us, because he's there, and we sha'n't have to think of leaving him behind to go through a lot of trials and things."

"Well, I guess he's pretty happy seeing you chirk up so, Mother. You know what he'd have thought of all this! Why he'd have just rejoiced in it! He hated so to have you left alone all day. Don't you mind how he used to wish he had a sister? Say, Mother, you just stand on that corner there till I get this tack in straight. This edge is so tremenjus thick! I don't know as the tacks are long enough. What was you figuring to do with the book-shelves, put books in, or leave 'em empty for her things?"

"Well, I thought about that, and I made out we'd better put in some books so it wouldn't look so empty. We can take them out again if she has a lot of her own!"

"We could put in some of Stephen's that he set such store by. There's all that set of Scott, and d.i.c.kens, and those other fellows that he wanted us to start and read evenings this winter. By the way, Mother, we'd ought to get at that! Perhaps she'll like to read aloud when she comes! That would about suit us. We're rather old to begin loud reading, Steve's always read to us so long. I don't know but I'd buy a few new books, too. She's a girl you know, and you might find something lately written that she'd like. It wouldn't do any harm to get a few. You could ask the book-store man what to pick out--say a shelf or two."

"Oh, I shouldn't need to do that!" said Mother, hurrying away to get her magazine, which was never far away these last two or three days.

"There's a whole long list here of books 'your young people will want to have in their library.' Wells and Shaw and Ibsen, and a lot of others I never heard of, but these first three I remembered because Stephen spoke of them in one of his first letters about college. Don't you know he was studying a course with those men's books in it? He said he didn't know as he was always going to agree with all they said, but they were big, broad men, and had some fine thoughts. He thought sometimes they hadn't just got the inner light about G.o.d and the Bible and all, but they were the kind of men who were getting there, striving after truth, and would likely find it and hand it out to the world again when they got it; like the wise men hunting everywhere for a Saviour. Don't you remember, Father?"

"I remember!" Father tried to speak cheerily, but his breath ended in a sigh, for the carpet was heavy. Mother looked at him sharply and changed the subject. It wasn't always easy to keep Father cheerful about Stephen's going.

"You don't suppose we could get those curtains up to-night, too, do you?"

"Why, I reckon!" said Father, stopping for a puff of breath and looking up to the white woodwork at the top of the windows. "You got 'em all ready to put up, all sewed and everything? Why, I reckon I could put up those rods after I get across this end, and then you could slip the curtains on while I was doing the rest. You don't want to get too tired, Mother. You know you been sewing a long time to-day."

"Oh, I'm not tired! I'm just childish enough to want to see how it's all going to look. Say, Father, that wasn't the telephone ringing, was it?

You don't think we might get a telegram yet to-night?"

"Not scarcely!" said Father, with his mouth full of tacks. "You see, it's been bad weather, and like as not your letter got storm-stayed a day or so. You mustn't count on hearing 'fore Monday I guess."

They both knew that that letter ought to have reached the hospital where Bonnie Brentwood was supposed to be about six o'clock that evening, for so they had calculated the time between Stephen's letters to a nicety; but each was engaged in trying to keep the other from getting anxious about the telegram that did not come. For it was now half past eight by the kitchen clock, and both of them were as nervous as fleas listening for that telephone to ring that would decide the fate of the pretty pink room, whether it was to have an occupant or not.

"These white madras curtains look like there's been a frost on a cobweb, don't they?" said Mother Marshall, holding up a pair all arranged upon the bra.s.s rod ready to hang. "And just see how pretty this pink stuff looks against it. I declare it reminds me of the sunset light on the snow in the orchard out the kitchen window evenings when I was watching for Steve to come home from school. Say, Father, don't you think those book-shelves look cozy each side of the bay window? And wasn't it clever of Jed Lewis to think of putting hinges to the covers on that window-seat? She can keep lots of things in there! Wait till I get those two pink silk cushions you made me buy. My! Father, but you and I are getting extravagant in our old age! and all for a girl that may never even answer our letter!"

There was a kind of sob in the end of Mother Marshall's words that she tried to disguise, but Father caught it and flew to the rescue.

"There now, Mother!" he said, getting laboriously up from the carpet, hammer in hand, and putting his arms tenderly about her. "There now, Mother! Don't you go fretting! You see, like as not she was asleep when the letter got there, and they wouldn't wake her up, or mebbe it would be too much excitement for her at night that way! And then, again, if the mail-train was late it wouldn't get into the night deliv'ry. You know that happened once for Steve and he was real worried about us! Then they might not have deliv'ry at the hospital on Sunday, and she couldn't _get_ it till Monday morning! See? And there's another thing you got to calcl'ate on, too! You never thought of that! She might be too sick yet to read a letter, or think what to say to it! So just you be patient, Mother! We'll just have that much more time to fix things; for, so to speak, now we haven't got any limitations on what we think she is. We can just plan for her like she was perfect. When we get her telegram we'll get some idea, and begin to know the real girl, but now we've just got our own notion of her."

"Why, of course!" choked Mother, smiling. "I'm just afraid, Seth, that I'm getting set on her coming, and that isn't right at all, you know, because she mightn't be coming."

"Well, and then again she might. Howsomenever, we'll have this room fixed up company fine, and if she don't come we'll just come here and camp for a week, you and me, and pretend we're out visiting. How would that do? Say, it's real pretty here, like spring in the orchard, ain't it, Mother? Well, now, you figure out what you're going to have for bureau fixings, and I'll get back to my tacking. I want to get done to-night and get that pretty white furniture moved in. You're sure the enamel is perfectly dry on that bed? That was the last piece he worked on. I think Jed made a pretty good job of it, for such quick work. Don't you? Got a clean counterpane, and one of your pink-and-white patchwork quilts for in here, haven't you, and a posy pin-cushion? My! but I'd like to know what she says when she sees it first!"

And so the two old dears jollied each other along till far past their bedtime; and when at last they lay quiet for the night Mother raised up in the moonlight that was flooding her side of the room and looked cautiously over to the other side of the bed:

"Father! You awake yet?"

"Yes!" sleepily.

"What'll we do about going to church to-morrow? The telegram might come while we're gone, and then we'd never know what she answered."

"Oh, they'd call up again until they got us. And, anyhow, we'd call them up when we got back and ask if any message had come yet?"

"Oh! Would we?" and Mother Marshall lay down with a sigh of relief, marveling, as she often had, at the superior knowledge in little technical details that men so often displayed. Of course in the real vital things of life women had to be on hand to make things move smoothly, but just a little thing like that, now, that needed a bit of what seemed almost superfluous information, a man always knew; and you wondered how he knew, because n.o.body ever seemed to have taught him! So at last Mother Marshall slept.

Anxious inquiry of the telephone after church brought forth no telegram.

Dinner was a strained and artificial affair, preceded by a wistful but submissive blessing on the meal. Then the couple settled down in their comfortable chairs, one each side of the telephone, and tried to read, but somehow the hours dragged slowly.

"There's that pair of Grandmother Marshall's andirons up in the attic!"