CHAPTER V
WHEREIN ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING, AND BILLY APPEARS ON THE SCENE
It would be difficult to describe how happy Elnora was that morning
as she hurried through her work, bathed and put on the neat, dainty
gingham dress, and the tan shoes. She had a struggle with her hair.
It crinkled, billowed, and shone, and she could not avoid seeing
the becoming frame it made around her face. But in deference to
her mother's feelings the girl set her teeth, and bound her hair
closely to her head with a shoe-string. "Not to be changed
at the case," she told herself.
That her mother was watching she was unaware. Just as she picked
up the beautiful brown ribbon Mrs. Comstock spoke.
"You had better let me tie that. You can't reach behind yourself
and do it right."
Elnora gave a little gasp. Her mother never before had proposed
to do anything for the girl that by any possibility she could do
herself. Her heart quaked at the thought of how her mother would
arrange that bow, but Elnora dared not refuse. The offer was too
precious. It might never be made again.
"Oh thank you!" said the girl, and sitting down she held
out the ribbon.
Her mother stood back and looked at her critically.
"You haven't got that like Mag Sinton had it last night,"
she announced. "You little idiot! You've tried to plaster it
down to suit me, and you missed it. I liked it away better as Mag
fixed it, after I saw it. You didn't look so peeled."
"Oh mother, mother!" laughed Elnora, with a half sob in
her voice.
"Hold still, will you?" cried Mrs. Comstock. "You'll
be late, and I haven't packed your dinner yet."
She untied the string and shook out the hair. It rose with electricity
and clung to her fingers and hands. Mrs. Comstock jumped back as
if bitten. She knew that touch. Her face grew white, and her eyes
angry.
"Tie it yourself," she said shortly, "and then I'll
put on the ribbon. But roll it back loose like Mag did. It looked
so pretty that way."
Almost fainting Elnora stood before the glass, divided off the front
parts of her hair, and rolled them as Mrs. Sinton had done; tied
it at the nape of her neck, then sat while her mother arranged the
ribbon.
"If I pull it down till it comes tight in these creases where
she had it, it will be just right, won't it?" queried Mrs.
Comstock, and the amazed Elnora stammered
"Yes." When she looked in the glass the bow was perfectly
tied, and how the gold tone of the brown did match the lustre of
the shining hair! "That's pretty," commented Mrs. Comstock's
soul, but her stiff lips had said all that could be forced from
them for once. Just then Wesley Sinton came to the door.
"Good morning," he cried heartily. "Elnora, you look
a picture! My, but you're sweet! If any of the city boys get sassy
you tell your Uncle Wesley, and he'll horsewhip them. Here's your
Christmas present from me." He handed Elnora the leather lunch
box, with her name carved across the strap in artistic lettering.
"Oh Uncle Wesley!" was all Elnora could say.
"Your Aunt Maggie filled it for me for a starter," he
said. "Now, if you are ready, I'm going to drive past your
way and you can ride almost to Onabasha with me, and save the new
shoes that much."
Elnora was staring at the box. "Oh I hope it isn't impolite
to open it before you," she said. "I just feel as if I
must see inside."
"Don't you stand on formality with the neighbours," laughed
Sinton. "Look in your box if you want to!"
Elnora slipped the strap and turned back the lid.
This disclosed the knife, fork, napkin, and spoon, the milk flask,
and the interior packed with dainty sandwiches wrapped in tissue
paper, and the little compartments for meat, salad, and the custard
cup.
"Oh mother!" cried Elnora. "Oh mother, isn't it fine?
What made you think of it, Uncle Wesley? How will I ever thank you?
No one will have a finer lunch box than I. Oh I do thank you! That's
the nicest gift I ever had. How I love Christmas in September!"
"It's a mighty handy thing," assented Mrs. Comstock, taking
in every detail with sharp eyes. "I guess you are glad now
you went and helped Mag and Wesley when you could, Elnora?"
"Deedy, yes," laughed Elnora, "and I'm going again
first time they have a big day if I stay from school to do it."
"You'll do no such thing!" said the delighted Sinton.
"Come now, if you're going!"
"If I ride, can you spare me time to run into the swamp to
my box a minute?" asked Elnora.
The light she had seen the previous night troubled her.
"Sure," said Wesley largely. So they drove away and left
a white-faced woman watching them from the door, her heart a little
sorer than usual.
"I'd give a pretty to hear what he'll say to her!" she
commented bitterly. "Always sticking in, always doing things
I can't ever afford. Where on earth did he get that thing and what
did it cost?"
Then she entered the cabin and began the day's work, but mingled
with the brooding bitterness of her soul was the vision of a sweet
young face, glad with a gladness never before seen on it, and over
and over she repeated: "I wonder what he'll say to her!"
What he said was that she looked as fresh and sweet as a posy, and
to be careful not to step in the mud or scratch her shoes when she
went to the case.
Elnora found her key and opened the door. Not where she had placed
it, but conspicuously in front lay her little heap of bills, and
a crude scrawl of writing beside it. Elnora picked up the note in
astonishment.
DERE ELNORY,
the lord amighty is hiding you all right done you ever dout it this
money of yourn was took for some time las nite but it is returned
with intres for god sake done ever come to the swamp at nite or
late evnin or mornin or far in any time sompin worse an you know
could git you
A FREND.
Elnora began to tremble. She hastily glanced around. The damp earth
before the case had been trodden by large, roughly shod feet. She
caught up the money and the note, thrust them into her guimpe, locked
the case, and ran to the road.
She was so breathless and her face so white Sinton noticed it.
"What in the world's the matter, Elnora?" he asked.
"I am half afraid!" she panted.
"Tut, tut, child!" said Wesley Sinton. "Nothing in
the world to be afraid of. What happened?"
"Uncle Wesley," said Elnora, "I had more money than
I brought home last night, and I put it in my case. Some one has
been there. The ground is all trampled, and they left this note."
"And took your money, I'll wager," said Sinton angrily.
"No," answered Elnora. "Read the note, and oh Uncle
Wesley, tell me what it means!"
Sinton's face was a study. "I don't know what it means,"
he said. "Only one thing is clear. It means some beast who
doesn't really want to harm you has got his eye on you, and he is
telling you plain as he can, not to give him a chance. You got to
keep along the roads, in the open, and not let the biggest moth
that ever flew toll you out of hearing of us, or your mother. It
means that, plain and distinct."
"Just when I can sell them! Just when everything is so lovely
on account of them! I can't! I can't stay away from the swamp. The
Limberlost is going to buy the books, the clothes, pay the tuition,
and even start a college fund. I just can't!"
"You've got to," said Sinton. "This is plain enough.
You go far in the swamp at your own risk, even in daytime."
"Uncle Wesley," said the girl, "last night before
I went to bed, I was so happy I tried to pray, and I thanked God
for hiding me `under the shadow of His wing.' But how in the world
could any one know it?"
Wesley Sinton's heart leaped in his breast. His face was whiter
than the girl's now.
"Were you praying out loud, honey?" he almost whispered.
"I might have said words," answered Elnora. "I know
I do sometimes. I've never had any one to talk with, and I've played
with and talked to myself all my life. You've caught me at it often,
but it always makes mother angry when she does. She says it's silly.
I forget and do it, when I'm alone. But Uncle Wesley, if I said
anything last night, you know it was the merest whisper, because
I'd have been so afraid of waking mother. Don't you see? I sat up
late, and studied two lessons."
Sinton was steadying himself "I'll stop and examine the case
as I come back," he said. "Maybe I can find some clue.
That other--that was just accidental. It's a common expression.
All the preachers use it. If I tried to pray, that would be the
very first thing I'd say."
The colour returned to Elnora's face.
"Did you tell your mother about this money, Elnora?" he
asked.
"No, I didn't," said Elnora. "It's dreadful not to,
but I was afraid. You see they are clearing the swamp so fast. Every
year it grows more difficult to find things, and Indian stuff becomes
scarcer. I want to graduate, and that's four years unless I can
double on the course. That means twenty dollars tuition each year,
and new books, and clothes. There won't ever be so much at one time
again, that I know. I just got to hang to my money. I was afraid
to tell her, for fear she would want it for taxes, and she really
must sell a tree or some cattle for that, mustn't she, Uncle Wesley?"
"On your life, she must!" said Wesley. "You put your
little wad in the bank all safe, and never mention it to a living
soul. It doesn't seem right, but your case is peculiar. Every word
you say is a true word. Each year you will find less in the swamp,
and things everywhere will be scarcer. If you ever get a few dollars
ahead, that can start your college fund. You know you are going
to college, Elnora!"
"Of course I am," said Elnora. "I settled that as
soon as I knew what a college was. I will put all my money in the
bank, except what I owe you. I'll pay that now."
"If your arrows are heavy," said Wesley, "I'll drive
on to Onabasha with you."
"But they are not. Half of them were nicked, and this little
box held all the good ones. It's so surprising how many are spoiled
when you wash them."
"What does he pay?"
"Ten cents for any common perfect one, fifty for revolvers,
a dollar for obsidian, and whatever is right for enormous big ones."
"Well, that sounds fair," said Sinton. "You can come
down Saturday and wash the stuff at our house, and I'll take it
in when we go marketing in the afternoon."
Elnora jumped from the carriage. She soon found that with her books,
her lunch box, and the points she had a heavy load. She had almost
reached the bridge crossing the culvert when she heard distressed
screams of a child. Across an orchard of the suburbs came a small
boy, after him a big dog, urged by a man in the background. Elnora's
heart was with the small fleeing figure in any event whatever. She
dropped her load on the bridge, and with practised hand flung a
stone at the dog. The beast curled double with a howl. The boy reached
the fence, and Elnora was there to help him over. As he touched
the top she swung him to the ground, but he clung to her, clasping
her tightly, sobbing with fear. Elnora helped him to the bridge,
and sat with him in her arms. For a time his replies to her questions
were indistinct, but at last he became quieter and she could understand.
He was a mite of a boy, nothing but skin-covered bones, his burned,
freckled face in a mortar of tears and dust, his clothing unspeakably
dirty, one great toe in a festering mass from a broken nail, and
sores all over the visible portions of the small body.
"You won't let the mean old thing make his dog get me!"
he wailed.
"Indeed no," said Elnora, holding him closely.
"You wouldn't set a dog on a boy for just taking a few old
apples when you fed 'em to pigs with a shovel every day, would you?"
"No, I would not," said Elnora hotly.
"You'd give a boy all the apples he wanted, if he hadn't any
breakfast, and was so hungry he was all twisty inside, wouldn't
you?"
"Yes, I would," said Elnora.
"If you had anything to eat you would give me something right
now, wouldn't you?"
"Yes," said Elnora. "There's nothing but just stones
in the package. But my dinner is in that case. I'll gladly divide."
She opened the box. The famished child gave a little cry and reached
both hands. Elnora caught them back.
"Did you have any supper?"
"No."
"Any dinner yesterday?"
"An apple and some grapes I stole."
"Whose boy are you?"
"Old Tom Billings's."
"Why doesn't your father get you something to eat?"
"He does most days, but he's drunk now."
"Hush, you must not!" said Elnora. "He's your father!"
"He's spent all the money to get drunk, too," said the
boy, "and Jimmy and Belle are both crying for breakfast. I'd
a got out all right with an apple for myself, but I tried to get
some for them and the dog got too close. Say, you can throw, can't
you?"
"Yes," admitted Elnora. She poured half the milk into
the cup. "Drink this," she said, holding it to him.
The boy gulped the milk and swore joyously, gripping the cup with
shaking fingers.
"Hush!" cried Elnora. "That's dreadful!"
"What's dreadful?"
"To say such awful words."
"Huh! pa says worser 'an that every breath he draws."
Elnora saw that the child was older than she had thought. He might
have been forty judging by his hard, unchildish expression. "Do
you want to be like your father?"
"No, I want to be like you. Couldn't a angel be prettier 'an
you. Can I have more milk?"
Elnora emptied the flask. The boy drained the cup. He drew a breath
of satisfaction as he gazed into her face.
"You wouldn't go off and leave your little boy, would you?"
he asked.
"Did some one go away and leave you?"
"Yes, my mother went off and left me, and left Jimmy and Belle,
too," said the boy. "You wouldn't leave your little boy,
would you?"
"No."
The boy looked eagerly at the box. Elnora lifted a sandwich and
uncovered the fried chicken. The boy gasped with delight.
"Say, I could eat the stuff in the glass and the other box
and carry the bread and the chicken to Jimmy and Belle," he
offered.
Elnora silently uncovered the custard with preserved cherries on
top and handed it and the spoon to the child. Never did food disappear
faster. The salad went next, and a sandwich and half a chicken breast
followed.
"I better leave the rest for Jimmy and Belle," he said,
"they're 'ist fightin' hungry."
Elnora gave him the remainder of the carefully prepared lunch. The
boy clutched it and ran with a sidewise hop like a wild thing. She
covered the dishes and cup, polished the spoon, replaced it, and
closed the case. She caught her breath in a tremulous laugh.
"If Aunt Margaret knew that, she'd never forgive me,"
she said. "It seems as if secrecy is literally forced upon
me, and I hate it. What shall I do for lunch? I'll have to sell
my arrows and keep enough money for a restaurant sandwich."
So she walked hurriedly into town, sold her points at a good price,
deposited her funds, and went away with a neat little bank book
and the note from the Limberlost carefully folded inside. Elnora
passed down the hall that morning, and no one paid the slightest
attention to her. The truth was she looked so like every one else
that she was perfectly inconspicuous. But in the coat room there
were members of her class. Surely no one intended it, but the whisper
was too loud.
"Look at the girl from the Limberlost in the clothes that woman
gave her!"
Elnora turned on them. "I beg your pardon," she said unsteadily,
"I couldn't help hearing that! No one gave me these clothes.
I paid for them myself."
Some one muttered, "Pardon me," but incredulous faces
greeted her.
Elnora felt driven. "Aunt Margaret selected them, and she meant
to give them to me," she explained, "but I wouldn't take
them. I paid for them myself." There was silence.
"Don't you believe me?" panted Elnora.
"Really, it is none of our affair," said another girl.
"Come on, let's go."
Elnora stepped before the girl who had spoken. "You have made
this your affair," she said, "because you told a thing
which was not true. No one gave me what I am wearing. I paid for
my clothes myself with money I earned selling moths to the Bird
Woman. I just came from the bank where I deposited what I did not
use. Here is my credit." Elnora drew out and offered the little
red book. "Surely you will believe that," she said.
"Why of course," said the girl who first had spoken. "We
met such a lovely woman in Brownlee's store, and she said she wanted
our help to buy some things for a girl, and that's how we came to
know."
"Dear Aunt Margaret," said Elnora, "it was like her
to ask you. Isn't she splendid?"
"She is indeed," chorused the girls. Elnora set down her
lunch box and books, unpinned her hat, hanging it beside the others,
and taking up the books she reached to set the box in its place
and dropped it. With a little cry she snatched at it and caught
the strap on top. That pulled from the fastening, the cover unrolled,
the box fell away as far as it could, two porcelain lids rattled
on the floor, and the one sandwich rolled like a cartwheel across
the room. Elnora lifted a ghastly face. For once no one laughed.
She stood an instant staring.
"It seems to be my luck to be crucified at every point of the
compass," she said at last. "First two days you thought
I was a pauper, now you will think I'm a fraud. All of you will
believe I bought an expensive box, and then was too poor to put
anything but a restaurant sandwich in it. You must stop till I prove
to you that I'm not."
Elnora gathered up the lids, and kicked the sandwich into a corner.
"I had milk in that bottle, see! And custard in the cup. There
was salad in the little box, fried chicken in the large one, and
nut sandwiches in the tray. You can see the crumbs of all of them.
A man set a dog on a child who was so starved he was stealing apples.
I talked with him, and I thought I could bear hunger better, he
was such a little boy, so I gave him my lunch, and got the sandwich
at the restaurant."
Elnora held out the box. The girls were laughing by that time. "You
goose," said one, "why didn't you give him the money,
and save your lunch?"
"He was such a little fellow, and he really was hungry,"
said Elnora. "I often go without anything to eat at noon in
the fields and woods, and never think of it."
She closed the box and set it beside the lunches of other country
pupils. While her back was turned, into the room came the girl of
her encounter on the first day, walked to the rack, and with an
exclamation of approval took down Elnora's hat.
"Just the thing I have been wanting!" she said. "I
never saw such beautiful quills in all my life. They match my new
broadcloth to perfection. I've got to have that kind of quills for
my hat. I never saw the like! Whose is it, and where did it come
from?"
No one said a word, for Elnora's question, the reply, and her answer,
had been repeated. Every one knew that the Limberlost girl had come
out ahead and Sadie Reed had not been amiable, when the little flourish
had been added to Elnora's name in the algebra class. Elnora's swift
glance was pathetic, but no one helped her. Sadie Reed glanced from
the hat to the faces around her and wondered.
"Why, this is the Freshman section, whose hat is it?"
she asked again, this time impatiently.
"That's the tassel of the cornstock," said Elnora with
a forced laugh.
The response was genuine. Every one shouted. Sadie Reed blushed,
but she laughed also.
"Well, it's beautiful," she said, "especially the
quills. They are exactly what I want. I know I don't deserve any
kindness from you, but I do wish you would tell me at whose store
you found those quills."
"Gladly!" said Elnora. You can't buy quills like those
at a store. They are from a living bird. Phoebe Simms gathers them
in her orchard as her peacocks shed them. They are wing quills from
the males."
Then there was perfect silence. How was Elnora to know that not
a girl there would have told that?
"I haven't a doubt but I can get you some," she offered.
"She gave Aunt Margaret a large bunch, and those are part of
them. I am quite sure she has more, and would spare some."
Sadie Reed laughed shortly. "You needn't trouble," she
said, "I was fooled. I thought they were expensive quills.
I wanted them for a twenty-dollar velvet toque to match my new suit.
If they are gathered from the ground, really, I couldn't use them."
"Only in spots!" said Elnora. "They don't just cover
the earth. Phoebe Simms's peacocks are the only ones within miles
of Onabasha, and they moult but once a year. If your hat cost only
twenty dollars, it's scarcely good enough for those quills. You
see, the Almighty made and coloured those Himself; and He puts the
same kind on Phoebe Simms's peacocks that He put on the head of
the family in the forests of Ceylon, away back in the beginning.
Any old manufactured quill from New York or Chicago will do for
your little twenty-dollar hat. You should have something infinitely
better than that to be worthy of quills that are made by the Creator."
How those girls did laugh! One of them walked with Elnora to the
auditorium, sat beside her during exercises, and tried to talk whenever
she dared, to keep Elnora from seeing the curious and admiring looks
bent upon her.
For the brown-eyed boy whistled, and there was pantomime of all
sorts going on behind Elnora's back that day. Happy with her books,
no one knew how much she saw, and from her absorption in her studies
it was evident she cared too little to notice.
After school she went again to the home of the Bird Woman, and together
they visited the swamp and carried away more specimens. This time
Elnora asked the Bird Woman to keep the money until noon of the
next day, when she would call for it and have it added to her bank
account. She slowly walked home, for the visit to the swamp had
brought back full force the experience of the morning. Again and
again she examined the crude little note, for she did not know what
it meant, yet it bred vague fear. The only thing of which Elnora
knew herself afraid was her mother; when with wild eyes and ears
deaf to childish pleading, she sometimes lost control of herself
in the night and visited the pool where her husband had sunk before
her, calling his name in unearthly tones and begging of the swamp
to give back its dead.