Kathie's Soldiers Part 18

"A good many things, Uncle Robert. Some grave questions that I cannot understand," in a half-hesitating way.

"Can I help you?" The tone was gravely sweet.

"You always do,"--smiling. "Something Mrs. Strong said troubled me.

Sarah _is_ ambitious, she has a desire for education, and a longing for refinement,"--with deliberation in her slow tones. "But what if--she _should_ be ashamed of her home, after all? It is not so very attractive,--pretty, I mean. Why, the only lovely thing in that great parlor was the bright blazing fire."

"If Sarah takes hold of the right end of life, she will try to make her home more pleasant for the others as well as herself."

"But, Uncle Robert, it is so hard to see when you are right in the midst of a thing,--a sort of muddle. A person standing on the outside would be likely to discover the best paths. And I thought--what if I should be the means of making her discontented instead of happy."

"So you are not quite convinced that it is wisest to sow beside all waters?"--with his peculiar smile.

"If I was certain I had the right seed."

"The seed is all alike,--love, faith, patience. Yes, I can catch your meaning,"--as the little face grew very sober. "You do not want to rouse her to a sense of and love for beauty to which she can never attain."

"That is it."

"I do not imagine you need begin to feel anxious immediately. Her crude attempts at beautifying will be very good exercise for her awakening brain, and she has so much of the practical to learn that she will be less likely to run into vanity, at least no more than one would naturally expect. If you choose, Kathie, you might help her in a very good work."

"I do choose."

"When you find that you have too much on your small hands, you must pa.s.s the heaviest over to me. Remember that I shall always stand ready. And doing these bits of girl-work for girls will make the woman-work plainer by and by. It is taking up the little opportunities as they come, not waiting for a great deed to be shaped to your hand presently."

"I think I must always do little deeds. They seem so much safer to me than the large ones."

"I heard Sarah ask if she might write to you; what did you answer?"

"I said that I should be glad to hear. And I shall want to know how she likes her books. You do not think mamma would object?"

"O no. It is the best and wisest act that you could do for her. There was something so sweet and grateful in her sending you the lichen that I have a good deal of faith in her capabilities. It will be good ground in which to sow seed. Sarah's whole life may be the better for the chance friends.h.i.+p."

"But if she should become refined and--"

"That is looking to the flavor of the fruit, my dear. G.o.d means that we shall not see it any faster than it can grow."

She smiled, satisfied.

The air was very keen indeed now. A bitterly cold night it would be. The tender heart went out to the thousands on "tented field," and prayed for peace, that they might return to warm, pleasant firesides.

Aunt Ruth ran down stairs as she saw them coming.

"Let Freddy take the horses," she said. "A telegram has come for you, and it may be important."

Freddy was elated with the permission. He was indulged now and then with short drives, but, being rather anxious to display his skill, he was sometimes quite venturesome.

Kathie drew a long, anxious breath. As was natural, her first thought was for Rob.

An expression serious almost to pain crossed Uncle Robert's face.

"Sad tidings for the close of our happy day," he said. "I am summoned to Alexandria immediately. Mr. Meredith--" Then he handed the slip of paper to Kathie.

Mr. Meredith had been severely wounded, and sent to the hospital at Alexandria, whether fatally or not the message did not state.

"The express train goes through at six," Uncle Robert said, "and in this case there is no time to be lost."

They all felt that when Mr. Meredith sent, the summons must be urgent indeed. Mr. Conover had more than an hour to make the few preparations he would require. But there were two or three letters to answer, so he went to the library, while Mrs. Alston hurried the tea.

Kathie stood by the window in a mood of peculiar silence. Somehow, though she had known the danger all along, with the confidence of love she could hardly believe that any evil would betide her soldiers.

Numbers of men had served their three years without any serious mishap, and it seemed as if G.o.d would watch over these two among the many thousands.

"Aunt Ruth, do you suppose--"

"My darling, we can suppose nothing, only hope for the best."

"But it is so terrible to think of him--in any great peril."

So gay and laughing always, so full of vivacity with all his gentlemanly indolence, so strong and buoyant! In fancy she saw him stretched upon a hospital pallet, very white, like Aunt Ruth, last winter, or perhaps having undergone some fearful operation.

And then there came to Kathie a remembrance of the last drive together, of the few lines in the letter. It was so precious to know that, living or dying, all was well with him. Kathie clung to that comfort with all her fond, trembling heart. Was it G.o.d's love and grace that brought human souls so near together and made them one great family?

"I have one request to make," exclaimed Uncle Robert, entering the room; "if you should see any of the Darrells do not mention this circ.u.mstance, unless they may have heard. I will telegraph home as soon as I reach the hospital, and write at my earliest convenience. Kathie, will you run over to the Lodge and ask Mr. Morrison to drive me to the station by six?"

Kathie wrapped up head and ears in a blanket-shawl, and ran down the drive. When she came back supper was ready and Uncle Robert's portmanteau packed.

They bade him a tender good-by, and Kathie whispered a fond and precious message.

Afterward they went to Aunt Ruth's sitting-room. Kathie felt rather drowsy and indolent with her ride through the keen air, and took possession of Aunt Ruth's lounge; for she was in no mood to read or sew, or even to take up her fancy crocheting.

"Did you have a nice visit?" asked her mother, at length.

That roused Kathie. "It was very peculiar, mamma, and I enjoyed it a good deal. I like Sarah, although she is not--"

"Not much cultivated, I suppose," said Aunt Ruth.

"Mamma, why did not we, when we were very poor, grow careless? I don't know as I can explain just what I mean," Kathie raised her face, perplexed and rosy.

"I think I understand. It is not the result of a few years, or even of poverty, but the lack of culture. Often a whole village or settlement, where there is no particular ambition for education, will fall into careless and rough habits of action and speech. Every one does the same, and it is hardly remarked."

"But I suppose there has always been a school at Middleville,--and it is so near Brookside and other towns."

"Many of these old country settlers are very sensitive. They think their way as good as any one's, and, if a few families are particularly refined, accuse them of holding themselves in high esteem, and being above their neighbors. It often proves difficult to overcome old habits of p.r.o.nunciation and the manners and customs to which one has always been used. It was different in our case. Aunt Ruth and I were brought up in a city, and had the best advantages. I was not very likely to forget what I had learned as a girl."

It _did_ make some difference, then, whether a person was rich or poor; and if one could not help his or her position--

"Mamma, wasn't it very hard to lose your fortune?"

"Yes, dear," Mrs. Alston answered, simply.