Part 51 (1/2)

It was an unusual sight, and Aunt Tryphosa was troubled. She felt it necessary to beat a retreat in the face of such genuine grief, but she was determined that it should be a dignified one.

”I ain't never seen you give way so, Maria-Ann, and you 're thirty-one year old come next January. I 've done my best to bring you up right, an' now you 're old enough to know your own mind, _I hope_; so, if you want to leave me, you can go jest as soon as you can get ready. I come up for Dorcas, an' now I 'm goin' home.” In spite of her effort her old voice trembled, but her pride sustained her n.o.bly, and Maria-Ann was all unaware that the tears were rolling down the wrinkled furrows in the old cheeks as her grandmother drove Dorcas before her down the fern-scented pasture slope.

Her granddaughter followed her half an hour later, and after a silent supper, except for Aunt Tryphosa's murmured ”grace,” and a faint ”amen”

from the other side of the table, Maria-Ann lighted a lamp and shut herself into her small bedroom.

She placed a chair against the door, lest she might be suddenly raided, and drew the other splint-bottomed one up to the head of the bed.

Lifting the feather-bed she thrust her hand far under and drew out a square, white pasteboard box. It was tied with a narrow, white ribbon.

She undid it carefully, and took out a layer of tissue paper. The lamp-light shone upon a large, gilt heart, some ten by eight inches, with a thickness of two inches.

Maria-Ann turned the box this way and that, watching the play of light on it, for the heart was skewered with a large, silver-gilt arrow, and the shaft, where it penetrated, held a small, white card with simulated blood-drops in carmine splashed on in one corner, and the sentiment, written in the same, straggling diagonally across the other corner:

”In thy sight Is my delight.”

Maria-Ann shut her eyes and leaned back in her chair. ”Don't seems as if he 'd sent me that if he had n't meant somethin',” she murmured, and dreamed for a little while. Then she opened her eyes, prepared for new delights. Raising the gilt top with tender care, she took out a faded rose:

”Don't seem as if he 'd come back that nex' mornin' after Chris'mus an'

give me that, 'thout he 'd had some notion.” She laid the rose carefully upon the tissue paper, and began to lift the leaves of the heart-shaped book, until she had lifted every one of the three hundred and sixty-five! She smiled to herself.

”'T ain't likely he 'd 'a' sent me jest such a cook-book, 'thout he 'd been tryin' to give me a hint.” She began to read the recipes--it was absorbing: puddings, cakes, preserves. She was lost to time as she read; ”An' he took that pair of socks I knit him last Chris'mus 'long with him, Rose said--” There was a fumbling at her door. Maria-Arm blew out the light.

”That you, grandmarm?” she called pleasantly.

There was no answer, and Maria-Ann laughed softly to herself as she undressed in the dark, and lay down to sweet dreams.

”I 'm goin' over to Mis' Blossom's, grandmarm,” she announced the next afternoon, ”to see if they 've had any news. I ain't heard for two days.”

Her grandmother made no reply, but when her grand-daughter was well on her way to the Blossoms', Mrs. Tryphosa Little's conscience deemed it prudent to issue a private search-warrant and investigate Maria-Ann's premises--even to the under side of the feather-bed. The results perfectly justified the search, and upon Maria-Ann's return just before tea, she was amazed to have her grandmother offer her a wrinkled cheek to kiss.

”Why, grandmarm!” exclaimed Maria-Ann, in joyful surprise, ”I 'm so glad you ain't laid it up against me--

”I can see through a barn-door when 't is wide open, even at my time of life, Maria-Ann Simmons,” said the old dame, interrupting her.

”What did you hear over to Ben's?”

”Hazel's just had a letter from her father, and he says they 've got Mr.

Sherrill home to New York, an' if nothin' new sets in, he 'll get over it, but his lungs 'll be weak, mebbe, for two years. He was shot clean through the lungs.”

”What do they hear from Chi?”

Maria-Ann's face grew suddenly radiant. ”Oh, he 's been awful sick with the fever, an' ain't left Cuby yet, but he'll come North jest as soon as he can be transported. I 've been talking over my plans with Mis'

Blossom an' Rose an' Hazel, an' they 're goin' to do everything they can for me.”

”So you 're a-goin' to Cuby, Maria-Ann?”

”Yes, grandmarm, I 've got a call to go an' nuss our sick an' wounded; I 've been readin' a lot 'bout the Red Cross misses in the Hearthstone Journal, an' I 'm goin' to wear a cross, an' Hazel's goin' to pay my fare, an' I 'm goin' to stop to Mr. Clyde's when I get to New York, an'