Part 45 (1/2)
”Well, I hope--I hope,” said Mr. Pryor, ”that the young man has the wit to understand what this would mean to him in England.”
”His wit is just about level with his father's,” said mother. ”He never has been in England, and most probably he never will be. I don't think it means a rap more to Laddie than it does to my husband. Laddie is so busy developing the manhood born in him, he has no time to chase the rainbow of reflected glory, and no belief in its stability if he walked in its light. The child of my family to whom that trinket really means something is Little Sister, here. When Leon came in with the thief, I thought he should have it; but after all, she is the staunchest little Crusader I have.”
Mr. Pryor looked me over with much interest.
”Yes, yes! No doubt!” he said. ”But the male line! This priceless treasure should descend to one of the male line! To one whose name will remain Stanton! To Laddie would be best, no doubt! No doubt at all!”
”We will think about it,” said mother serenely as Mr. Pryor arose to go.
He apologized for staying so long, and mother said it hadn't been long, and asked him the nicest ever to come again. She walked in the sunlight with him and pointed out the chestnuts. She asked what he thought of a line of trees to shade the road, and they discussed whether the pleasure they would give in summer would pay for the dampness they would hold in winter. They wandered around the yard and into the garden. She sent me to bring a knife, trowel, and paper, so when he started for home, he was carrying a load of cuttings, and roots to plant.
When father came from town that evening, at the first sight of him, she went straight into his arms, her face beaming; she had been like a sun all that day. Some of it must have been joy carried over from yesterday.
”Praise G.o.d, the wedge is in!” she cried.
Father held her tight, stroked her hair, and began smiling without having the least idea why, but he very well knew that whatever pleased her like that was going to be good news for him also.
”What has happened, mother?” he asked.
”Mr. Pryor came over about the road and bridge tax, and oh Paul! I've said every word to him I've been bursting to say from the very start.
Every single word, Paul!”
”How did he take it?”
”Time will tell. Anyway, he heard it, all of it, and he went back carrying a load of things to plant. Only think of that! Once he begins planting, and watching things grow, the home feeling is bound to come. I tell you, Paul, the wedge is in! Oh I'm so happy!”
CHAPTER XIV
The Crest of Eastbrooke
”Sow;--and look onward, upward, Where the starry light appears,-- Where, in spite of coward's doubting, Or your own heart's trembling fears, You shall reap in joy the harvest You have sown to-day in tears.”
”Any objections to my beginning to break ground on the west eighty to-day?” asked Laddie of father at breakfast Monday morning.
”I had thought we would commence on the east forty, when planning the work.”
”So had I,” said Laddie. ”But since I thought that, a very particular reason has developed for my beginning to plow the west eighty at once, and there is a charming little ditty I feel strongly impelled to whistle every step of the way.”
Father looked at him sharply, and so, I think, did all of us. And because we loved him deeply, we saw that his face was a trifle pale for him; his clear eyes troubled, in spite of his laughing way. He knew we were studying him too, but he wouldn't have said anything that would make us look and question if he had minded our doing it. That was exactly like Laddie. He meant it when he said he hated a secret. He said there was no place on earth for a man to look for sympathy and love if he couldn't find it in his own family; and he never had been so happy since I had been big enough to notice his moods as he had been since all of us knew about the Princess. He didn't wait for father to ask why he'd changed his mind about the place to begin.
”You see,” he said, ”a very charming friend of mine expressed herself strongly last night about the degrading influence of farming, especially that branch of agriculture which evolves itself in a furrow; hence it is my none too happy work to plow the west eighty where she can't look our way without seeing me; and I have got to whistle my favourite 'toon' where she must stop her ears if she doesn't hear; and then it will be my painful task, I fear, to endeavour to convince her that I am still clean, decent, and not degraded.”
”Oh Laddie!” cried mother.
”Abominable foolishness!” roared father like he does roar once in about two years.
”Isn't it now?” asked Laddie sweetly. ”I don't know what has got into her head. She has seen me plowing fifty times since their land has joined ours, and she never objected before.”