Part 49 (1/2)

”'Wa-al,' I says to Frenchy, 'Helen 'Lizy was al'ays han'some.'

”'D'know 'bout zat,' says Frenchy, only he says it in his lingo, 'but she was one vair cute li'l gal.'

”'Han'some as a picter,' I tol' him; 'an' cutes' little tyke y'ever see.'”

”How is Mother?” asked Helen constrainedly.

”Ma's lottin' on havin' ye home; wants t' hear all 'bout the good times.

School done? All packed and ready for a start, ain't ye? But ye don't seem to be feeling any too good. Don't New York agree with ye, Sissy? Been studying too hard?”

”She is a goot organism; New York agrees vit her,” I said. ”Wasn't that how poor old Darmstetter put it, Nelly? Mr. Wins.h.i.+p, Nelly has overworked, but with your consent, she is about to let a tyrannical husband take care of her.”

At my heedless mention of Darmstetter, Helen's white face grew whiter. Her trembling hand strayed, seeking support.

”Al'ays s'posed you'n' Sis'd be marryin' some day,” said Mr. Wins.h.i.+p, dubiously watching her, while he stroked his beard; ”but seems mos's if ye'd better wait a spell, till Ma's chirked her up some. Han'some place here.”

His eyes examined the luxurious, disordered room.

”These here things ain't yourn, Sis?”

”Not all of them.”

”I ain't refusin' to let Sis marry, if ye're both sot on't,” he conceded.

Then he caught sight of the Van Nostrand painting, and his slow glance travelled from it to Helen. ”That done for you, Sis? I never helt with bare necks. Yes, Sis can marry, if she says so, though Ma wants her home.

But she ain't been writin' real cheerful. She--she's asked for money, that's the size on't. An' here ye are up in arms an' she nigh sick. I don't want nothing hid away f'om me; how come ye livin' in a place like this?”

He rose laboriously, surveying through the open doorway the beautiful hall and the dining-room; while I interposed some jesting talk on other matters, for I had hoped to get Helen out of the Nicaragua before her father's arrival, and still hoped to spare him knowledge of our worst troubles.

”If Sis has been buyin' all this here, I ain't denying that I'll feel the expense,” he said, sticking to the subject; ”but I guess we can manage.”

Fumbling for his wallet, he drew some papers from it and handed them to Helen, adding:--

”There, Sis; there they are.”

”Money, Father?” she asked with indifference. ”I don't believe I need any.”

”Don't ye? Ye wrote 'bout mortgagin'. I didn't want to do it, 'count o'

Ma, partly; but we kep' worryin' an' worryin' 'bout ye. Ma couldn't sleep o' nights or eat her victuals; an fin'lly--'Ezry,' she says, 'we was possessed to let Helen 'Lizy, at her age, an' all the chick or child we got, go off alone to the city. Ezry,' she says, 'you go fetch her home.

Like's not Tim can let ye have the money,' she says; 'his wife bein' an own cousin, right in the family, y'know.' So I've brought the deeds, Sis, an'--”

”What!” cried Helen, starting up. ”The deeds of the farm? Let me see!”

She reached out a shaking hand for the papers.

”I'll pay you back!” she cried. ”Why didn't you come sooner? How much can you get? How much money?”

”Not much more'n three thousan', I'm afeared, on a mortgage; cap'tal's kind o' skeery--but Tim--”