Instead of the Thorn. Clara Louise Burnham

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СКАЧАТЬ have lived with her till they were ready to eat stewed barnacles; and the only way they got along was finally to get her to live somewhere else and let them have the house to themselves. They've done that sometimes, and Luella and her father camped out in the boathouse, I guess; I don't know exactly what they did do with themselves. Tried to get you! Well, I do declare! Luella's nerve is all right, whatever else she may lack."

      "What I want to know," laughed Mrs. Porter, "is, when she says the view is 'sumtious,' whether she means 'scrumptious' or 'sumptuous.'"

      Miss Barry smiled at her plate. "Luella ought to write a dictionary or a key or something," she said. – "Oh, I don't know what's the matter with women, anyway," she added with a sigh of disgust.

      "Why, Miss Barry, what do you mean? They're finer every year! There are more of them every year for us to be proud of."

      "A few high lights, maybe," admitted Miss Barry, "but look at the rank and file of 'em. Look at the clothes they'll consent to wear – and not wear. Just possessed with the devil o' restlessness, most of 'em, and willing to sell their souls for novelty. Isn't it enough to see 'em perspiring under velvet hats and ostrich feathers with muslin gowns in September, and carrying straw hats and roses above their furs in February? I get sick of the whole lot. Do you suppose for a minute they could wait for the season to come around, whichever it is? H'm!" Miss Barry put a world of scorn into the grunt.

      Mrs. Porter, as she accepted a second helping of chowder, had a vision of Linda, capriciously regnant, and realized the status she must hold in her aunt's estimation.

      "Oh, I'm an optimist," she replied, "especially when I'm eating your chowder. I don't see how you can look out of these windows and not love everybody."

      She regarded her vis-à-vis as she said it. It was hard to visualize this spare and hard-featured woman as the young girl who used to sit on these rocks and build castles in the air.

      "Mortals are ungrateful, I guess," was the reply. "I'm glad you like it here."

      "It's a paradise to one who is tired of people and pianos," declared Mrs. Porter.

      "Think you could look out of these windows and love 'em all, do you?" inquired Miss Barry dryly.

      Mrs. Porter laughed. "At this distance, certainly," she answered. "Some of them I could love even if they were in the foreground," she continued. "I'm very fond of Linda, Miss Barry."

      "A point in her favor," remarked the hostess, with a cool rising inflection.

      "Thank you for saying so. One must make lots of allowance for a girl so pretty, so rich, and so overflowing with life."

      "Let her overflow, only nowhere near me."

      "Don't say that. She'll settle down under the responsibilities of life. Do you remember my cousin Bertram King?"

      "Oh, yes. The long-legged, light-haired fellow that aids and abets my brother in overworking."

      "That's the very one. I must tell you that he's heart and soul in love with Linda."

      "H'm. I suppose so. I only wish she'd marry him and live out on Sheridan Road somewhere, then I could live with my brother and take care of him winters. He'd get some care then. Are they engaged?"

      "Oh, no. She's just out of school. He hasn't asked her yet."

      "What's the matter with him? Is he the kind with boiled macaroni for a backbone?"

      "No, Bertram's backbone is all right. He wanted to let her get out of school. He has no relations but me. He had to confide in somebody."

      "Well, he'll get all that's coming to him if he marries her." Miss Barry sniffed. "I guess if there was a prize offered for arrogance she'd get it. I speak plain because you're fond of her, and you're aware that you know her much better than I do, so I couldn't set you against her even if I wanted to; and I need somebody to confide in too."

      Mrs. Porter smiled. "You'll change your tune some day. Linda has lots of goods that aren't in the show window."

      Miss Barry nodded. "If she keeps her distance I may change in time. It all depends on that."

      The visitor could picture how in little things the high-spirited, popular girl might have shown tactlessness during the holidays, and created an impression on the taciturn aunt which it would be hard to efface. Words could never do it, she realized, and wisely forbore to say more.

      Dinner was over, and the visitor was just considering that during the process of social dishwashing she could broach the subject of a boarding-place, when Jerry Holt's steed again approached the shingled cottage. Both women discerned him at the same moment.

      "Did you tell Jerry to come back for you? You can't go yet," said Miss Barry.

      "I didn't, but it might be a good plan for him to take me the rounds."

      "What rounds?"

      "Of possible boarding-places."

      Miss Barry did not reply, for she had to answer the knock at the door. There stood Captain Holt, holding a telegram gingerly between his thumb and finger, and his sea-blue eyes gazed straight into Belinda's.

      "I want you should bear up, Belinda," he said kindly. "There ain't no other way." His voice shook a little, and Miss Barry turned pale as she took the sinister envelope.

      Mrs. Porter heard his words, and hastening to her hostess stood beside her as she tore open the telegram. Captain Holt's heavy hand closed the door slowly, with exceeding care, as he shut himself out.

      Mrs. Porter's arm stole around the other woman as she read the message: —

      Mr. Barry died last night. Please come at once.

      Henry Radcliffe.

      Miss Barry's limbs shook under her, and she tottered to a chair.

      Captain Holt sat on the edge of the piazza and bit a blade of grass while he waited.

      In the silence a pall seemed to fall over the little house, broken only by the sharp rending apart of mounting waves against the rocks.

      Mrs. Porter knelt by her friend and held her hands.

      "What can I do for you?" she asked.

      "Look in the desk over in that corner, and find the time-tables in the drawer."

      "I know the Chicago trains, Miss Barry. Let me arrange it all for you. You wish to leave to-night?"

      Miss Barry nodded without speech.

      Mrs. Porter went out on the piazza and sent Jerry to telegraph, telling him to return.

      "Did you know my brother was ill?" asked Belinda, when she returned, still without moving.

      "No. I thought him just overtired."

      The other nodded. "That's the way they do it. Rush madly after money and more money till they go to pieces all of a sudden."

      The bereft sister's eyes were fixed on space, seeing who knows what pictures of the past, when a barefooted boy romped with her over these rocks that held the nest he had given her. Suddenly her far-away look came back, and focused on the pitiful eyes regarding her drawn, pale face.

      "I'm СКАЧАТЬ