The Story of the Big Front Door Part 24

She was startled, for she had not heard him; but she turned and put her arms around him for a moment, without speaking.

"Aunt Zelie, I know how contemptible I am; you ought not to have anything to do with me," Carl exclaimed in a great burst of contrition. She took his hand and held it fast as she answered, "I can't throw stones at you, dear, but perhaps I can help you to learn the lesson I have had to learn many times."

He never forgot that afternoon. How he sat beside her with his head on her shoulder, while she talked to him as she had never talked before.

How his face glowed with mingled shame and pride as she said that, of all the children, he was, if possible, the dearest to her.

"But I have more fear for you than for the others. I long to have you grow up a strong, true man--master of yourself in every sense. If you do not, I shall feel that in some way it is my fault."

"I will try to be what you want me to be--like Uncle Carl--if I can; and n.o.body in the world could help me as you do."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE TOLD HER ABOUT THE TROUBLE AT SCHOOL."]

"I shall not leave you till you leave me," Aunt Zelie said, smiling rather wistfully at the tall boy.

"That will be never, and I will always take care of you," answered Carl, laying his cheek against her hand. He told her about the trouble at school too, finding it a relief to confess everything and she listened gravely.

"For a little misunderstanding like this, a little hateful pride, pleasant friends.h.i.+ps are given up, and the good times we expected to have in the club this winter! Have my Good Neighbors forgotten their motto already?"

"I'm afraid so," Carl said, thinking how hard it would be to make things right again.

"Have you told Father?" he asked.

"No, he did not come to lunch."

"Then I shall have to tell him," with a sigh.

This was not an easy thing to do. That they were the best of companions and friends made it all the harder, for he felt he had forfeited the right to this good-fellows.h.i.+p.

Carl told his story with such evident shame and repentance that, though he listened with a grave face, Mr. Hazeltine could not find it in his heart to be very severe.

"I did not think," he said, "that my only son could be guilty of such a cruel and ungentlemanly act."

Carl winced at this.

"You see," his father continued, laying his hand on his shoulder, "I always had such a tender feeling for my little sister that it is hard for me to understand how you could be so unkind."

It was Carl's private opinion that Aunt Zelie could never have been so trying as Helen, but he did not say so. They had a serious talk, and for a week after, Carl was seen only at the table, for he and his father decided that as he had sinned against the happiness of the family, he must forfeit the privileges of the family life for a while.

Everybody was glad when the week was over, Carl most of all.

No one else knew how lonely those evenings were, spent in his room, or how he longed to join the group around the library fire.

Helen was deeply impressed by her brother's humble apology, and decided that after all she wasn't glad she had spoiled his composition, but very sorry she had been so meddlesome.

Carl lost no time in starting out to find Ikey and make friends.

It was on Monday morning, and they met just outside the gate.

"h.e.l.lo!" said Carl.

"h.e.l.lo!" replied Ikey.

"Know your Latin?"

"Hope so, I have studied it a lot," and they walked down street together as if nothing had happened.

"Where were you going this morning when I met you?" Carl asked when his neighbor came in, in the old way, with his books that afternoon.

"I was coming over for you. I was tired of it."

"Were you? Why, I was going for you!"

CHAPTER XV.

DORA'S BRIGHT IDEA.

One thing troubled Carl. It was that Dora knew all about it. She came to lunch that dreadful Sat.u.r.day to go with the others to see Hermann, and of course Helen's bruises and his own absence had to be accounted for.

On his way home from school one morning he saw her and her mother coming towards him on the other side of the street. When they were within speaking distance, Mrs. Warner bowed, but Dora looked in another direction as if she wished not to see him.

Carl was hurt and mortified, for he was sure he knew the reason.

"I don't care, it is mean to be so hard on a fellow. Aunt Zelie isn't," he said to himself.

He did care, however, and was silent and gloomy at lunch. As he left the room on his way upstairs to study he heard Bess say, "Dora had such an accident to-day." But he did not wait to hear what it was.

An hour later, having an errand to do up town, he went off alone instead of asking Ikey to go with him as usual.

The clear, cold air was making him cheerful in spite of himself, when, as he drew near home after a long walk, he saw two familiar figures in front of him. His spirits immediately fell, for they were Ikey and Dora chatting together most sociably. Carl suddenly felt jealous.

He knew they were great friends, and he never had dreamed of objecting till now that he was himself out of favor. He began to walk slowly that he might not overtake them, his pride keeping him from turning back and going home some other way.

They paused a moment when they reached the corner; then Ikey, with his politest bow, left her and crossed the street. Dora stood waiting.

Carl advanced, trying to look unconscious and indifferent.

Her smile changed to a puzzled look, and then became positive astonishment when he was pa.s.sing without a word.

Always straightforward, she exclaimed, "Why, Carl! Aren't you going to speak to me? I am on my way to your house."

"I thought you would not care to speak to me, you didn't this morning," he answered somewhat loftily.

"Not speak to you? I don't know what you mean."

"You would not this morning," he persisted.