Part 51 (1/2)

”Then may I dance again?” begged Rachel. ”Please--just once before I go.”

”Yes,” said Miss Parrott, sitting very straight, and giving all the graceful little quirks to the slender fingers which her music-master, long since dead and buried, had taught her. ”Now begin, child.”

So up and down, high and clear, rang Rachel's voice, with no more effort than the birds outside put forth, the sound penetrating the ancient walls, and paralyzing every domestic, while it nearly made Simmons, outside, fall from his box.

”She hain't touched that pianner in ten years,” said the cook, in a hushed voice. ”Oh, me! I'm afraid she's going to die,” and she flung her ap.r.o.n over her head.

”Die!” exclaimed Hooper, finding his voice. ”She won't die with that young one here,” he added, in scorn.

”Now may I dance?” pleaded Rachel, plucking Miss Parrott's sleeve. ”Do let me; you said I might.”

”Yes,” said Miss Parrott, wrenching herself away from the operatic strains, to begin on a little old-fas.h.i.+oned jig.

”Oh, that's so funny,” giggled Rachel, hopping aimlessly in the center of the big drawing-room and trying to keep time. ”Do stop; you put me all out.”

”But that is a dancing-tune,” said Miss Parrott, jingling away, ”and sister and I used to dance quite prettily to it, I remember.”

”Well, I can't,” said Rachel, hopping wildly, and doing her best to get into step. ”Oh, dear!” she brought up suddenly, flushed and panting.

”What is the matter, Rachel?” Miss Parrott let her hands rest on the yellow ivory keys and looked over her shoulder at her.

”Oh, I can't dance,” said Rachel, ”when you play so funnily. It doesn't go like that; it goes so.” She picked up her gown again, and made a sweep off in one direction, and then in another, her feet scarcely touching the pictured roses and lilies with which the velvet carpet was strewn, all the while singing a tune that seemed to carry her off on its own melody. Miss Parrott turned around on the music-stool, and watched her breathlessly.

It was therefore much later than the parsonage people expected when the old brougham set Rachel down at their gate, and she walked into the house, supported on either side by Peletiah and Ezekiel, who had been watching there a full hour for her arrival.

”I like her,” she said, marching up to the minister's wife. ”She gave me these”--putting her hand on the red coral beads on her neck--”and I'm going back again--to-morrow, I guess.”

But it wasn't to stay, that Rachel went back on the morrow; it was only for a day. Despite all the pleadings made by Miss Parrott, and all the desire of the parson and his wife to please their honored paris.h.i.+oner, and most of all, the earnest wish to consent to what would probably be for the child's best good, they held firmly to the first statement, that nothing could be arranged till Mrs. Fisher and Mr. King had been consulted.

”They have sent the child here to us, and here she must stay until they make some other arrangement,” they said firmly, and no amount of urging could make them say anything else.

So letters had to fly back and forth from the parsonage and the King estate in the big city, and Miss Parrott wrote long letters in a pinched, lady-like hand in very faint ink, crossing the paper whenever she was afraid she hadn't said enough to plead her cause successfully. Which condition of mind she was in perpetually, all through these writing days.

These letters old Mr. King endeavored to read at the first, but he soon threw them down impatiently.

”The child shall never go to a woman who has no more sense,” he loudly declared.

Then Polly or Jasper would hurry in and wade through the missives. And when he saw the hungry longing of the desolate soul, and the sweet refinement of the writer came out, and the sterling honesty was revealed in the prim sentences, he relented and went tumultuously over to the other side.

”Yes, yes, she shall go,” he declared, pulling out his big handkerchief to blow his nose violently, to remove all suspicion that anything was the matter with his eyes; ”'twould be the best thing in the world for her. Of course she must go.”

And so it was finally settled that Rachel was to live at Miss Parrott's and be her own little girl, going down to the parsonage every day to learn her lessons under Mr. Henderson's care, until the time when she would be ready to be sent to such a school as Miss Parrott might select should arrive.

”And she must come and see me sometimes,” said Phronsie when the announcement was made in the King household. ”My little girl may come, can't she, Grandpapa?” she begged.

”Yes, yes, child,” said old Mr. King warmly; ”we all shall want to see Rachel now and then.”

The Comfort committee being well-established and in fine running order by this time, Mrs. Sterling gathering them around her sofa, in her s.p.a.cious sitting-room upstairs, Polly and Alexia saw no reason why they shouldn't begin work on the Cooking Club, ”because,” said Polly, ”if we are really going to learn how to cook things, why, we ought to begin.” And the mothers of the several boys and girls who were to form it, taking instantly to the idea, the two girls and Jasper set to work to write the notices of the first meeting.

”We ought to have another boy,” said Jasper, ”on the Committee.”