Part 39 (2/2)
”I don't care about pianos and nautomobiles,” interrupted Peace. ”It's the kind of people you are that I am thinking about. Mrs. Grinnell says you're the president of a big college and everyone knows you. If that's so, you ought to be pretty nice, I sh'd think. _I_ like you, anyhow, and I b'lieve you'll like us, too. But I'm an awful case, even when I don't mean to be. Maybe you would rather--didn't I--weren't you--I saw you in Swift & Smart's store!”
”Yes, my lady! Twice in the city I have seen you and Allee, and both times I thought surely you knew me, but I don't believe you did.”
”No, I didn't. I 'member now. It was you who gave us that gold money when we were selling flowers. But you look different with new clothes on and a clean face.”
”Why, you little rascal! Wasn't my face clean when I came here to get something to eat?”
”It might have been, but it was p.r.i.c.kly looking with the mustache all over your chin, and I like you lots better this way. I almost didn't know you the night you got supper for us, either.”
”And the rice burned.”
”And I broke Bossy's leg and you sent us Queenie to take her place, and Faith said I was worse than Jack of the Bean Stalk, and--I bet you _are_ the fellow that pinned the money to the gatepost and grain sacks! Now, aren't you?”
”I am afraid I am.”
”You told me once before that you weren't.”
”No, I didn't. I just asked you if it wouldn't be a queer kind of _tramp_ who could do such a thing. Isn't that what I said?”
”Y--es,” she finally acknowledged. Then the puzzled frown in her forehead smoothed itself away and she wheeled toward the oldest sister with the triumphant shout, ”There, Gail, didn't I tell you he was a prince in disgus--disguise? Now ain't you sorry you didn't spend the money? She has got it all saved away yet. I must kiss you for that, Grandpa, even if it didn't do us any good.” She threw her arms, drumstick and all, about his neck and gave him a greasy smack, immediately rubbing her lips with the back of one hand.
”Aha! That's no fair,” he protested. ”You rubbed that off.”
”No, I didn't. I just rubbed it in. Thank you, I don't care for any pie tonight. Somehow this drumstick filled me up full. I can't eat a bite more. Have you been waiting all this time for me? Well, let's go back into the parlor then, and do the rest of our talking. I've sat on the tip edge of nothing until I am tired. There's more s.p.a.ce in the front room.”
”Do you know, Peace Greenfield,” cried Mr. Campbell, pretending to feel insulted at her intimation that he had not given her a large enough share of his chair, ”the first time I ever called at your house, I found you sitting on the gatepost,--the _gatepost_, mind you,--about so square,” measuring with his hands; ”and just as I turned in from the road, you began to sing, 'The Campbells are coming, oho, oho!' What kind of a reception do you call that? And tonight you weren't even going to give me any supper.”
”Oh,” she hastily a.s.sured him, ”I didn't mean you by that song. I used to think that the Campbells were little striped bugs that eat up the cuc.u.mber plants, and the very morning that you came here for breakfast I found two in the garden. What are you laughing at? I know better now, but I truly didn't have a notion what your name was then. You must have known I didn't. But I am awfully glad you came and that you kept coming even when I was bad and made you work so hard. I am sorry, but never mind, I am _deformed_ now.”
”Deformed, child? Where?”
”Right here in my heart! I am going to be as good as gold all the time after this. I think the angels must have sent you. We've always wanted a first-cla.s.s grandfather and grandmother, but we never 'xpected to get 'em until we found our own inside the Gates some day. Just the same, I spoke to G.o.d about it, and He probably had the angels hunt you up. So I have _deformed_ and now I'll be real good. I'm truly sorry I was such a selfish pig about wanting a drumstick tonight. I s'pose that's why the drumstick filled me up so quick and didn't leave any room for pie.
Custard is my favorite.”
”Perhaps that is the reason,” he agreed, quite as serious as she. ”We always are happiest when we are unselfish. Now, let's forget all about the badness and just remember the goodness. I have some of the most splendid plans for what we shall do when I have my six girls at home with me. What beautiful times we shall have, mother!”
”How can we ever thank them?” whispered bright-eyed Gail to Mrs. Strong, under cover of the lively conversation at the other end of the table.
”By loving them,” promptly answered the little woman, offering up a prayer of thanksgiving that the brave little orphan band had found such a beautiful home. ”They are n.o.ble people and have hungered all their lives for just that very thing.”
”But love seems such a little thing to give for the blessings we shall enjoy from their hands.”
”Ah, my dear, that is where you are mistaken, Love is _everything_.”
THE END.
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