Katherine's Sheaves Part 51

The man's laugh rang out full and clear, but with a note of genuine mirth in it that made Katherine's cheeks tingle afresh, for it told her that his main object in seeking her had not been to get the picture.

"Oh! if that child would but vanis.h.!.+" he thought, with an adoring look at the pretty, drooping figure in its dainty robe of pale yellow; but little Miss Marplot evidently had no such intention, and he reluctantly turned away to save Katherine further embarra.s.sment.

"Good-by, Miss-Katherine; we will be with you again this afternoon," he said, with a thrill in his voice as it lingered over the name; then he stepped through the low window, slipped his arm around unconscious Dorrie and led her away to the carriage.

The reunion of the afternoon was a most delightful occasion. Mr.

Minturn had chartered a yacht to take the whole party out for a few hours' sail, and, the day being perfect, the sea in its bluest attire and quietest mood, there was nothing to mar their enjoyment, and the experience proved ideal for everyone.

They returned just at sunset, to find numerous daintily laid tables awaiting them on one of the broad verandas and groaning beneath an abundance of the many luxuries that had been provided to tempt and regale; while spotlessly attired maids and white- jacketed men were in attendance to serve the hungry excursionists.

As twilight dropped down o'er land and sea, as the numerous lanterns were lighted and flung their soft radiance and vivid spots of color upon the scene, while a fine orchestra discoursed melodiously from some green-embowered nook, the place seemed like an enchanted realm where one might almost expect to discern, flitting among the playful shadows, those weird forms that people the elf land of childhood's fancy--

"Fairies, black, gray, green and white, Those moons.h.i.+ne revelers and shades of night."

And thus the evening was spent in a delightfully informal manner, each and all appearing to feel as if they were members of one happy family, as, indeed, they were, in Truth and Love.

But the final farewells had to be said at length, for railway time-tables are absolute, and the last train for Boston would leave at ten o'clock.

At half-past nine the carriages were at the door and fifteen minutes later all were gone, excepting the Seabrooks, who lingered for a few last words with the family, and to take leave of Miss Reynolds, who would go home on the morrow.

They were all standing together in the brilliantly lighted reception hall, Dorothy with one arm linked within her father's, the other encircling Katherine's waist.

"Hasn't it been a wonderful day, papa?" said the girl, during a little lull in the general conversation.

"It certainly has, dear," he replied, giving the small arm a fond pressure.

"And see!" she continued, glancing around the circle, "all of us, except Mr. and Mrs. Minturn, belong to Miss Katherine."

"Well, bless my heart!" here laughingly interposed Mr. Minturn.

"Miss Dorothy, I think that is very unceremoniously crowding us out of our own domain."

"You'll know I didn't mean to do any crowding when I tell you my thought," she returned, and nodding brightly at him. "You see, it was she who interested everyone of us in Science, and I think we ought to be called Miss Katherine's sheaves. You know it says in the Bible 'he who goes forth bearing precious seed shall come again bringing his sheaves with him.' She sowed the seed at Hilton and has 'gathered us all in' here."

"That is a very sweet thought, Dorrie, and it is true enough, too," said her mother, as she bestowed a fond look upon Katherine.

"But," she added, moving towards the door, "we must go home this very minute, for it is getting late," and with general "good- nights" they also went away.

Katherine followed them out upon the veranda, where she stood leaning against the bal.u.s.trade and watched their forms melt away in the darkness, a thrill of loving grat.i.tude in her heart, for, were they not indeed her "sheaves"?

Presently she heard a step behind her, then a firm yet gentle hand was laid upon hers.

"May I have it for always, Katherine?" questioned Phillip Stanley, in a low voice, as he lifted and inclosed it in both of his. "I could not say half I wished this morning, dear. Poor Dorrie!"--in a mirthful tone--"did not realize how exceedingly de trop she was, and, for a moment, I was half tempted to be cross with her. I saw Mr. and Mrs. Minturn after I returned from my drive and told them something of what I had tried, under such difficulties, to make you understand."

"You told papa and mamma!"

"I had to--I simply could not keep it. I know you had given me no verbal authority to ask for what I wanted; but, ah!--that look, that smile, as I left you, made me bold enough for anything."

"And they--"

"They told me that it would have to be just as Katherine said.

What does my 'brown-eyed la.s.sie' say?"

Involuntarily the girl's slender fingers closed over his hand as she lifted frank, sweet eyes to him.

"Yes, Phillip." Softly, shyly, the coveted answer fell on his ears.

"That means that you are mine, as I am yours," he said, a great joy throbbing in his tones, "and"--reverently--"we are also to be one, in heart and purpose, in the service of our great cause."

Drawing the hand he held within his arm, he led her down the steps out among the fairy shadows to a great rock that overlooked the sea.

Meantime, the "news" was being whispered among the family inside and was received with general satisfaction, Sadie, particularly, expressing great delight in view of what she termed a "perfectly elegant match."

Jennie, on the other hand, accepted it as a matter of course.

"It didn't need to be announced, at least to me," she declared, with a wise nod of her head. "I've seen it coming this long while, for Science isn't the only absorbing subject that a certain gentleman has been investigating during the last year and a half.

But just let me tell you--if my name had been Jimmy instead of Jennie that handsome M.D. wouldn't have found such clear sailing in this harbor."

When Katherine finally came in, trying hard to appear unconscious, but looking rosy and starry-eyed, Sadie sprang forward and threw her arms around her, kissing her heartily.

Then drawing back, but still holding her a prisoner, she mockingly exclaimed:

"Moss rosebuds! Katherine, have you ever taken the trouble to ascertain what they mean when sent by a swain to a maid?"

"Oh! Sadie, how you do love to tease!" cried the blus.h.i.+ng girl as she tried in vain to release herself from the clinging arms.

"Well, honey," continued her tormentor, "it was as plain as A B C to me that night, and I chuckled right smart to myself when I saw you innocently pin them, on your breast. It was simply delicious!

But"--suddenly laying her hands on the pretty brown head--"bless you, my children! you have my unqualified sanction and I'll put my whole heart into my toes when I dance at your wedding."

With a light laugh the gay girl bounded to the piano and vigorously began playing Mendelssohn's wedding march. But Katherine had vanished.

Phillip Stanley, however, sitting on the veranda, across the way, caught the suggestive strains and laughed softly to himself, as, in imagination, he surmised something of what was going on in the Minturn mansion.

The following day brought Mr. Arnold to make his promised call upon Jennie and her friends, when, as the proud and happy girl had predicted, it did not require much discernment to realize that he was every whit a "gentleman." He told them, among other things, that his life had been rather a lonely one, as he had no family.

Several years after going to the East he had married the daughter of a planter, but she had been taken from him two years after their union, and he had never cared to marry again.

When his partner died he became sole proprietor of their business, which he had successfully conducted until he determined to return to America, when he had sold out to some of his clerks, satisfied to retire with a moderate fortune and allow them to have their day, as he had had his.

He brought with him letters, papers and numerous photographs which convinced Mr. Minturn that he was, in truth, akin to Jennie and ent.i.tled to be her future protector, as he both desired and claimed the right to be.

He expressed his grateful appreciation of what the Minturns, particularly Katherine, had done for his niece, but insisted upon refunding all that they had thus far expended upon her education.

"It is but just and right," he persisted, when Katherine demurred, saying it had been "a love offering, and she did not wish it back." "I am abundantly able to do it and also to give her every advantage in the future. I do feel, however, that nothing can ever repay you for the great kindness you have shown her."

He afterwards had a private conversation with Jennie, during which he proposed to legally adopt her, if she had no objection to taking his name, and would be content to make her home with an "old gentleman" like himself.

"Content!" she exclaimed, drawing an ecstatic breath. "Well, for a girl who has always felt that she didn't really belong anywhere, that is a prospect that would just about turn my head if I hadn't found a new chart and compa.s.s to steer by. As for the 'old gentleman,' if you don't mind"--with a roguish glance but flus.h.i.+ng slightly--"I'd--like to tell you I think he is just dear."

"I wonder what I'll have to pay for that?" said Mr. Arnold, laughing, but with a suspicious moisture in his eyes.

"Well," said Jennie, c.o.c.king her head on one side and giving him an arch look, "if you'll try to think the same of me we'll call it square."