Pearl and Periwinkle
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Anna Graetz >> Pearl and Periwinkle
A solemn stillness followed while the two turned again to view the
lovely painting. Finally Periwinkle broke the silence:
"He must have been very good to take such an interest in the little
children." Thereupon all thought of the arithmetic lesson vanished, and
Joe briefly told the whole beautiful story from the night of the
angels' song until Jesus Christ again returned to His throne in heaven.
When Joe had finished his recital, Periwinkle looked up with sparkling
eyes.
"Oh, how glad I am to know that! How I wish the Fat Woman could have
heard it! She'd been so interested. I think she always thought herself
better than the rest of the circus people."
A certain short prayer with somewhat similar meaning occurred to the
minister's son, but he only smiled at the pharisaical egotism of the Fat
Woman. After all she had trained the children morally, if not
religiously, and this made the teaching of Christian truths far less
difficult. Children reared in love are almost always ready to accept the
story of the Supreme Love.
"She never said anything about faith," continued Periwinkle in his
thoughtful way. "But she told us, 'Do unto others as you would have them
do unto you.' Maybe," he ventured with some hesitancy, "that was her
faith. Do you suppose it would be just as good, Joe?"
Joe was somewhat surprised that his young pupil had thus unconsciously
stumbled upon a disputed point that has led many minds astray, but he
answered firmly and with conviction:
"No, Peri; the Fat Woman could not keep the law of love perfectly. Do
you think she did?" he challenged suddenly.
"No," cried Pearl, who had been listening intently. "Once or twice she
slapped us when we hadn't done a thing, and sometimes she got very
spiteful at Mr. Barleydon, and she used to tell mother that the
tight-rope walker made her sick. That's not doing unto others as we wish
them to do unto us. But," the loyal youngster hastened to defend her
friend, "the tight-rope walker was enough to make anybody sick and then
I guess the Fat Woman never heard about Jesus saying: 'Love your
enemies.'"
"Perhaps she did know it," replied Joe, "but she couldn't have kept the
rule perfectly anyway. Nobody can, Pearl, even those who know God's law
best, although they must always try very hard. God showed His great love
for us by sending Jesus Christ to keep the law for us. He could not do
wrong or fail to keep the law. And now if we believe in Him and come to
Him as children come to their father for help, He will count it the same
as if our lives were as good and perfect as His own.--But I'm afraid
that I can't make it clear to you and it will be pretty hard to
understand," he added.
"Joe," said Periwinkle gravely, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on
his young friend's face, "did you ever hear anything you didn't just
exactly want to understand, something that's too nice to get right down
on a footing with yourself? Once I was reading one of Mr. Barleydon's
books of poetry that made you feel like a breeze was carrying you right
up to the gates of heaven. Mr. Barleydon looked at me in surprise, then
looked at the book and asked kind of funny, 'Do you understand it, boy?'
'No sir!' I told him, 'but somehow I feel it better for not being able
to understand it quite.' And that's how I feel about some of the things
you told us. Do you suppose that's all right?"
"I think, Peri," said Joe soberly, "that is the real understanding."
"Say, you know what a fellow's driving at," cried Periwinkle with
delight. "Jerry, the clown was sympathetic like that. I think that
Jerry, next to you and your dad, is the most Christian person, I know.
Aunt Hetty ain't one though," he finished rather bluntly.
"Why Peri," protested the minister's son, "your Aunt Hetty is one of the
best workers in the church. She belongs--" Joe smiled as he hesitated,
"to our Ladies Aid, the Adult Bible Class, the Ladies Missionary
Society, and if I am not mistaken also to a Temperance Union, an
Anti-cigarette Club and a host of others."
"But she doesn't love her enemies," was Periwinkle's reply.
Joe smiled to see how deep an impression this injunction made on both
children.
"And all the Greys are her enemies," continued Periwinkle, "especially
Mr. Robert Grey. Now I think he is a fine man."
"He is," was the warm rejoinder.
"I guess they were in love once. And then--just because of a pig--I
think it's dreadful, Joe."
The boy had touched on a subject that was a matter of concern with his
teacher and one to which he had given much thought.
"Peri," he cried, "if I had the chance my father has every Sunday, I
would tell them that they are showing themselves to be mighty poor
Christians. But then dad knows best, of course. He's had years of
experience to help him. Only I don't see how he stands it. For three
years he has been trying to bring the Maises and the Greys together and
he is not discouraged, though I can't see any results, Peri--" Joe
stopped suddenly.
"What, Joe?"
"You'll be starting to school soon. There will be Greys and Maises
there. I know that if I speak to them about it--and I will--the Greys
won't pitch into you unless you start something."
"I won't do it. I'd just as lief fight a Maise as a Grey any day. I
ain't--b i g o t e d."
A sudden smile lit up the features of Joe Smith. It shone from his eyes,
parted his lips, lurked in the dimple in his chin, and then slowly died
away. His eyes held it the longest.
That smile had won many a friend for the lad. It made him a favorite at
college, in the village, and in the church with the Greys and the Maises
alike. But never had it made a greater conquest than now. Every child
and every grown-up whose heart is young is a hero-worshiper. In the
heart of Periwinkle a new fire was kindled, a new shrine built. Then and
there he decided that his every deed should be worthy of his Ideal.
"You don't want me to fight at all," he questioned after a moment of
silent adoration. "And I won't unless they pitch into Pearl. Why, here
comes your father and I guess it's most supper-time."
"Oh," laughed the minister, entering the room, "Miss Hetty's table would
make an appeal to anyone. I know you could not resist it, or I would ask
you to stay here for your supper."
"We'll come again, thank you," said Pearl, "but it's cream pie tonight,
please, and I helped Aunt Hetty make it."
"Pearl," said Periwinkle when they were started on their way home,
"there's one thing I want you to notice, Smith called me Peri and from
now on that's my name. Periwinkle sounds like a sissy. There was once a
great man named Perry. Will you remember, Pearl?"
"Yes, Periwinkle," replied his sister absent-mindedly, "but don't you
love the story he told us?"
"It was beautiful," replied her brother, "and I think it's splendid to
try to do good because Jesus loved people so, and because Joe Smith
loves Him too."
CHAPTER IV
THE CLAN
Preparations for the "big dinner" to which all the Maises had been
invited and to which, knowing the good treat which was in store, they
had been eagerly looking forward, were about complete. This dinner was
to be held at Miss Hetty's home, as a birthday celebration in honor of
the "clan leader," as the minister's son had designated that worthy man.
Jeoffrey Maise was the twin brother of the deceased owner of the famous
pig and it was he who had always maintained the bloodless but bitter
feud with the greatest fervor. It was always his eloquence and burning
hatred that rekindled the flame when the blaze of enmity showed any
signs of abating.
He had now reached his sixty-fifth year and to do him honor Aunt Hetty
assisted by a bevy of rosy-cheeked nieces and cousins, had brewed and
baked and stewed one hot morning in late August. Altogether eight
families of Maises, arrayed in their best, sallied out to the
white-gabled home of their spinster relative. Not only were they
prompted to attend because of the prospect of revelling in the contents
of Miss Hetty's famous kitchen, but they would also have the opportunity
of meeting the "circus children."
Pearl and Periwinkle had up to this time met only a few of their
mother's relatives, but on this day they submitted to a deluge of
kisses, questions, stares, and advances that wellnigh overwhelmed them,
but which they nevertheless met with commendable equanimity. On the
whole their aunts and great-aunts, uncles and great-uncles, cousins and
near-cousins were better pleased with the children than perhaps the
children were with them. The common agreement was that Myra's boy and
girl were exceptionally pretty, bright, and not at all ill-mannered;
although they perhaps lacked the shyness of their village cousins.
When dinner at last was over, the big living room became the scene of an
important family council. A vivacious girl of sixteen clad in a smart
white linen frock with shoes to match, took her young cousins in charge,
expecting to entertain them, while their elders were engaged in a
discussion that would in no way likely be of interest to young minds.
She informed them that she was the only child of Eldon Maise and how she
spent her winters in a fashionable boarding school, only coming to the
country in summer to spend her vacation. Eldon Maise, as Peri knew, was
the rich man of the "clan." But the lively prattle of his sister and
their dainty cousin on topics of interests common only to girls, bored
him and he soon found himself becoming interested in the conversation of
his elders.
"You say Jim Grey's son-in-law is running for postmaster?" the guest of
honor was asking.
"So I hear," replied his nephew Eldon in his cold, quiet way.
"You don't intend to sign his petition, Eldon?" demanded the old man,
his suspicion aroused by the matter-of-fact answer of his nephew.
"Oh, business is business, Uncle," retorted the younger man, rather
abruptly. "I can't afford to provoke the illwill of the Greys. If Holner
comes to me, I dare say I shall sign his paper."
"And you a son of your father!" cried Jeoffrey Maise, much aroused by
this apparent defection from a family duty. "You to go back on us and
help the other side!"
"Oh, Uncle," replied his broader-minded nephew in an even tone, "that
little thing occurred so long ago. We aren't living in the Kentucky
hills, you know. Family feuds are not in fashion in this state. I'm sure
I don't care much if you want to keep up the old grudge, but I don't
want it to interfere with my business. It's been damaging enough
already."
An older brother of Hetty and Eldon drew his pipe slowly from his mouth
and looked impressively upon the company. Jim Maise had never received
the "larnin" of which the younger members of the family boasted, but he
had what he himself fondly called "hoss sense." At any rate he was
always listened to attentively as befitted an eldest son.
"Wall," he drawled, "I reckon this here post-office affair don't come
too late for us to get even with some of the things the Greys have done
to us. Only it don't strike near enough home. Holner ain't nothing but a
son-in-law of the old man's half-brother. Now if we could strike a blow
to Robert Grey, or his sister Kitty and her family, it would be
something like. Nothin' real bad but just humblin'-like."
Periwinkle's heart beat faster at the mention of Robert Grey in this
connection and Hetty stirred nervously in her chair. She had it in her
power, as they all knew, to humiliate Kitty Farwell and incidentally
Kitty's brother, Robert Grey. Hetty had not forgotten that Kitty was
quite influential in causing the final "break" between herself and
Robert. When she spoke her voice sounded strange and hard.
"The mortgage on Mrs. Farwell's place is due in October," she suggested
rather hesitatingly.
"I was coming to that, Hetty," cried Jeoffrey eagerly. "Who holds the
mortgage now that Myra is gone. It always seemed to me to be mighty
generous of your ma, to will all her property to Myra when your pa
disinherited her."
"I hold it," replied Miss Hetty tersely, "as legal guardian of Myra's
children and heirs."
"Kitty cannot pay it?" questioned her brother Eldon quietly.
He and Mrs. Farwell had been playmates and youthful sweethearts.
"Hardly," replied his sister with a grim smile. "Kitty is scarcely worth
the eight hundred it demands. Since that shiftless husband of hers died,
she has all she can do to make ends meet and keep her three children
together."
At this heartless reply a smile of ill-disguised contempt might have
been detected on the face of at least one of the men present. But as he
was only a "poor relation" dependent for his very means of livelihood
upon the generosity of Jeoffrey and Eldon Maise he wisely remained
silent.
"Won't Robert interfere?" urged one of the women. "He'll surely help his
sister."
The leader of the clan laughed shortly.
"What's Robert got," he demanded, "that ain't tied up so tight it won't
do him any good now? Of course the Greys will pretend to come to Kitty's
aid, if Hetty closes up on her. But it will be humiliating enough to all
of them even if they do pay the money. You see it isn't generally known
that there is a mortgage on the Farwell place."
"I'm not so sure that they can pay it," interrupted Eldon in that cold
tone that was like a mask, hiding perhaps a warm depth of feeling; or
perhaps it was only the expression as cool as the iciness of his spoken
thoughts. "I happen to know of an account against Elbert Grey that will
cripple that branch of the family for the time being. Ashur could no
more turn over the money than could Robert, and Lisbeth is so tied up
that he is out of the question. As a matter of fact the Greys would be
up against it."
"Have you warned Kitty?" asked Jeoffrey Maise, turning to Miss Hetty.
"Not yet. But I shall warn her, and give her as much time--as the law
allows."
"Good for you!"
"Hetty!" Eldon's voice held a note of cold reproach. "You--a
woman--would you try to ruin a widow and three helpless orphans?"
"There you go again," passionately declared his sister, feeling the
force of his argument, yet anxiously seeking to justify her position.
"You claim to be a man of business, and yet you would condemn me for
taking what is lawfully mine. Please remember, Eldon, that I am doing it
for the sake of our departed sister's children. Aren't they orphans
themselves? Won't they need the money as much as those Farwell young
ones do? Pearl's voice is little short of remarkable, but it takes money
to train it. Peri must go to college some day, you all agree. Very well.
But some one must pay the expenses. They shall have it too, in spite of
you, Eldon. I'll warrant you wouldn't do less for your Alois."
Throughout this conversation Periwinkle had remained silent, though his
interest and bewilderment increased every moment. At Miss Hetty's words
a look of understanding displaced his puzzled frown. Springing to his
feet, he unhesitatingly addressed the astonished company in such a
respectful yet determined manner that his presumption could not but be
pardoned.
"Aunt Hetty," he demanded, "did you say that thing that you called a
mortgage belonged to Pearl and me?"
"Yes," replied his aunt shortly, "and I as your legal guardian, may do
with it as I see fit."
"That is a strange law," replied her questioner. "But I tell you, Aunt
Hetty, I won't have any of the money you take from those poor people,
nor will Pearl. I'd rather be a beggar. And I know I'd feel worse than a
beggar, if we took her place from her. Oh, how can you, how dare you
work against Mr. Grey when he is so good? Hasn't Joe Smith's father ever
told you to love your enemies?"
"Periwinkle," protested his aunt weakly. For the first time in her life
she felt utterly helpless and incapable of reply.
"Periwinkle Toddles!" she repeated, but she could not meet the look in
his reproachful grey eyes. His great-uncle Jeoffrey recovering first
from the shock finally came to her aid.
"Boy," he thundered. "What do you know of this? In my day children
didn't speak until they were told to do so. The young rascal needs a
sound thrashing, Hetty."
But Miss Hetty had been so affected by the childish rebuke that she
could not find it in her heart to be angry with her nephew.
"Think how the child was raised, Uncle," she pleaded.
"Peri, didn't the--the Fat Woman ever tell you to respect your elders?"
"Yes, Aunt Hetty, I think so," the boy replied, surprised at unexpected
softness of her tone. "Least ways she told us to respect everybody that
was worthy of it. She was a very brilliant woman," he added, turning to
his Uncle Eldon with a rare smile. And then for a moment the mask that
hid the soul of that man was lifted, for he replied with a sudden and
unusual warmth: "At any rate she deserves credit for training a boy,
whom I would be glad to call my son."
It was too much for Periwinkle. Tears suddenly filled his eyes. He
wanted to thank his good, kind uncle but he could not let them see him
in tears. Turning his back abruptly on the company and starting for the
door, he said in muffled tones:
"I must find sister--But, Aunt Hetty, if it's for her and me you want to
take that money from Mrs. Farwell, please, please don't. We'd much
rather not and--" he stopped at the door and turned about for his final
thrust, "don't you think that Jesus would much rather you wouldn't?"
He was gone and silence reigned for a time. It was Jeoffrey, as usual,
who broke it.
"Perhaps, Hetty, we had better not be too hasty with that mortgage," he
said as if almost ashamed to express any feeling of charity toward the
Greys.
"I've already decided that," was her curt reply.
Eldon looked at his sister in approval and the "poor relative" in the
corner was so pleased that, forgetting for once to be cautious, he burst
forth in a hearty "hurrah."
CHAPTER V
THE WALL THAT PARTED
While this exciting conference was in session, dainty Alois Maise and
little Pearl, finding that the deliberations of their elders were
interfering too much with their own private conversation, had left the
room. After tripping gaily down the village street at Alois's urgent
invitation, Pearl consented to visit the Eldon Maise mansion. The
beautiful home captivated the orphan whose life in the circus had
deprived her of all real comfort such as she saw here. But it was before
the piano that she paused the longest. And when she sang for Alois, that
young lady was much gratified to discover that Pearl's singing was as
exquisite as the charm of her spoken words.
"I'm going to tell Joe Smith," she cried in delight. "You must sing in
the Children's Choir." The expectation that these words aroused was
sufficient to make Pearl happy as a lark for a week. Joe heard her and
Peri sing and both were admitted in the choir.
On the second week in September, when the magic of autumn had
transformed the fields and orchards and groves into tints of gold, and
colors of brilliant hue, the village school began. It was the first time
Myra's children had ever gone to school, but the Fat Woman had proved
such a good teacher that they were only a year or so behind in their
studies. This only served as an incentive to make them study.
Periwinkle especially made rapid progress. Pearl however was not so
fond of books, but her ways were so gentle and charming that no one
objected when she had to count up her sums on the rosy tips of her
dainty fingers.
Joe Smith had kept his promise to use his influence with the Greys to
protect his young friends from annoyance: for all the little Greys, from
Zeke to Mehitable, treated the newcomers quite politely. But this
attitude on the part of the Greys was not quite to the liking of the
rest of the Maises and they showed their resentment. To have the Greys
patronizing their two prime favorites was too bitter a pill to swallow.
But a few days after school opened, Emil Maise and Zeke Grey spent two
hours at the brook, each bathing a pair of swollen eyes.
The "accident" had occurred when the two had fought a rough and tumble
battle because Pearl--a Maise--had presumed to give her pencil to Zeke
Grey to sharpen; and the courageous Zeke had dared to sharpen it before
the very eyes of Emil. Such accidents are hard to explain to parents and
so the brook had been the only alternative. But when news of the fight
reached the ears of the teacher, the ruler descended on Grey and Maise
alike, while Pearl wide-eyed, wept for both and made the lads shake
hands before she would speak to either of them.
When Esther Tull of the Grey "camp" furtively pushed Ruth Hayton's
lunchbox out of the open window, Pearl shared her own lunch with her
cousin Ruth. Periwinkle however had regarded the Tull girl with such
fine contempt that she gave Ruth a bead ring as a peace offering and
Ruth then wrote her name in Esther's autograph album.
These incidents did not escape the notice of the teacher who with
growing hope saw that what had appeared to be impossible was gradually
taking place. She had tried everything within her power to break down
this wall of hatred that separated the two factions, but the barrier had
proved invincible to her every effort. And now she saw that while she,
armed with the rod of authority and exercizing the strictest discipline,
had made a dismal failure, these two orphaned circus children were
unconsciously melting the icy wall with the benevolent sunshine of their
smiles and the warm love beams of their tender young hearts.
The minister heard of it too and although he shook his head rather
doubtfully over the teacher's hopeful predictions, yet he wrote
cheerfully to his son: "I can't understand it. The children seem to know
the magic of some fairy alchemy, for whatever they touch becomes like
them--lovely."
But it was not all smooth sailing, especially for the boy. Periwinkle
had never known his grandfather Maise, but he nevertheless held the old
gentleman in high esteem. Therefore when Washington Grey called that
relative "a mean old fellow," Peri's fist darted out with amazing
rapidity but was just as quickly withheld before it reached Washington's
eye. And that lad, wondering at his escape, showed his appreciation by
presenting Periwinkle a horse-hair chain the next day which was accepted
with all the graciousness of Peri's sweet nature. The teacher, observant
as ever, and wondering too, blessed Myra's "dreadful" children in her
heart.
CHAPTER VI
JOE SMITH'S CHOICE
Joe Smith's den in the dormitory of his dearly beloved Alma Mater was
the favorite haunt of not only his intimate friends but of many other
students who had yielded to the charm of his personality. His influence
for good and his popularity with the student body had also attracted the
attention and commendation of the faculty, whose opinion was best
expressed by one of their number who had openly made a statement to the
effect that when the boys were with Smith they were quite as safe as
when in company with their teachers. But on this particular evening in
early November Joe was alone. It had been a dreary depressing day with
the cold rain beating on the rattling window panes and a complaining
wind whistling mournfully through the bare trees. The young man's face
almost seemed to reflect the gloominess of the dull gray evening sky
into which he gazed with the vain hope of discovering a let-up that at
least would permit a pleasant evening's walk.
A knock at the door interrupted his gloomy reflections and in his eager
haste to admit his visitors he knocked over several pieces of furniture
that impeded his progress.
The next moment four boisterous forms, not awaiting Joe's invitation
burst into the room rather unceremoniously. Two of them were Sophomore
room-mates whose rooms were located on the same floor of the dormitory.
Joe did not know them intimately but he did know that they were regarded
rather dubiously by some of the students who had had dealings with them.
In fact there was a rumor that the younger of the two was closely
watched by the authorities. The other two were from the city, but were
frequent callers at the college.
As a rule Joe shunned the company of the two "Sophs," but this evening
he was glad that it was the merry quartette that had thus visited him
rather than some of his quieter and more studious friends.
"What's on tonight, Joe?" began one by way of opening the conversation.
"Nothing," replied Joe gloomily, kicking spitefully at the mantle top,
"unless you fellows will stay and spend the evening."
"And all become as glum as you," replied another, mimicking Joe's
dejected appearance.
"See here, Joe, we want you to come with us tonight. Why can't you?"
Joe whistled dolefully, but his interest aroused, he inquired
questioningly:
"Where are you going?"
"To Bordell's--for a harmless little game of pool. Everybody goes,
everybody but a 'Percy dear,'" replied the younger of the Sophomores
with an air of superiority.
Joe's face flushed and he faced the speaker, but the other Sophomore
spoke before Joe's indignant thoughts could find utterance.