The Wall Between Part 9

"The Howes'!" Ellen fairly hissed the name. "You went to the _Howes'_ for eggs?"

"Why not?"

With a swift motion her aunt strode forward and s.n.a.t.c.hed the box from Lucy's light grasp.

"You went to the Howes--to the Howes--an' told 'em I didn't give you enough to eat?"

Livid, the woman crowded nearer, clutching the girl's arm in a fierce, merciless grip; her blue eyes flashed, and her lips trembled with anger.

"I didn't say you didn't give me enough to eat," explained Lucy, trying unsuccessfully to draw away from the cruel fingers that held her.

"What did you tell 'em?"

"I just said you couldn't spare any eggs for us to use."

"Spare eggs! I can spare all the eggs I like," Ellen retorted. "I ain't a pauper. If I chose I could eat every egg there is in that pantry." She shook her niece viciously. "I only sell my eggs 'cause I'd rather," she went on.

"I thought you said we couldn't afford to have eggs when they where so high," explained Lucy. "You said they were sixty-six cents a dozen."

"I could afford to eat 'em if they was a dollar," interrupted Ellen, her voice rising. "If they were two dollars!"

"I didn't understand."

"'Tain't your business to understand," snapped her aunt. "Your business is to do as I say. Think of your goin' to the Howes--to the Howes of all people--an' askin' for eggs! It'll be nuts for them. _The Howes._" The circling fingers loosened weakly.

"I wonder," she continued, "the Howes sold you any eggs. They wouldn't 'a'

done it, you may be sure, but to spite me. I reckon they were only too glad to take the chance you offered 'em."

"They weren't glad," protested Lucy indignantly. "They didn't want to sell the eggs at all, at least two of them didn't; but the one called Jane insisted on letting me have them."

"What'd they say?"

"I couldn't understand," Lucy replied. "They seemed to be afraid of displeasing somebody called Martin. They said he wouldn't like it."

"Martin wouldn't, eh?" Ellen gave a disagreeable chuckle. "They're right there. Martin won't like it. They'll be lucky if he doesn't flay them alive for' doin' it."

"But why, Aunt Ellen? Why?" inquired Lucy.

"Because the Howes hate us, root an' branch; because they've injured an'

insulted us for generations, an' are keepin' right on injurin' an'

insultin' us. That's why!" Ellen's wrath, which had waned a little, again rose to a white heat. "Because they'd go any length to do us harm--every one of 'em." Again the grip on Lucy's arm tightened painfully.

Dragging the girl to the window the old woman cried:

"Do you see that pile of stones over there? That's the wall the Howes built years an' years ago--built because of the grudge they bore the Websters, likely. Did you ever look on such an eyesore?"

"Why don't they fix it?" asked Lucy naively.

"Yes, why don't they? You may well ask that!" returned Ellen with scathing bitterness. "Why don't they? Because they're too mean an' stingy--that's why. Because they think that by lettin' it go to ruin an' makin' my place look like a dump heap, they can drive me to spend my money to do it, so'st they can save theirs. Because they're such lyin', deceitful critters they actually pretend the wall don't belong to 'em anyhow--that it's mine!

_Mine!_ That's why. So they leave it there, lookin' like the devil's own playground, hopin' that some day I'll get so sick of seem' it that way that I'll build it up."

She choked for breath.

"But I shan't," she went on. "I never shall, long's I live. If I was to be drawn an' quartered I wouldn't do it. No. If Martin Howe thinks he's the only person in the world who can hold out for a principle, he's mistaken.

I've got a will that can match his, match his an' beat it, too, an' he'll learn it sometime. I can put up with seein' that wall just as long as he can."

A light of understanding began to break in on Lucy's bewilderment.

"I don't see----" she began, then halted before her aunt's stern gaze.

"You don't see what? Out with it."

"I don't see why you couldn't build it up together."

"You don't!" sneered Ellen contemptuously, "You'd help those Howes fix their wall, I s'pose, same's you'd go an' buy their eggs."

The withering intonation of the words echoed through the room.

"I'm goin' to tell you right now, Lucy Webster, that if you have a spark of pride, an atom of regard for your father, your grandfather, or your great-grandfather, you'll put all such notions as that plumb out of your head. You'll have no dealin's with the Howes. You'll just hate 'em as your folks have always hated 'em; an' you'll vow from now on that if Heaven ever gives you the chance you'll get even with 'em." The tense voice ceased.

Through the stillness the whispers of the great elm on the lawn could be heard blending with the song of a vesper sparrow. Already twilight had folded the valley in mystery until only the peaks of the hills were tipped with light.

Contrasted with the peace of the night, man's strivings seemed peculiarly out of harmony. But to Ellen's heart the scene brought no tranquillity.

"Now you know what your duty is," she concluded, with a final vindictive outburst.

"If it is my duty," the girl answered, her eyes still upon the distant landscape.

"Of course it's your duty. There ain't no question about that."

"Each of us must settle with his own conscience what his duty is," Lucy observed slowly.

"Not if it's been handed down to him," put in Ellen quickly. "I guess your duty's chalked out for you pretty plain; an' I reckon if you're any sort of a Webster you'll do it an' not go branchin' off followin' notions of your own--not after all these years."

"I don't believe in keeping up traditions unless they are good ones."

The older woman's lips tightened.

"You mean you'd break off from what your folks thought?"

"If I felt it to be right, yes."

Ellen drew a quick, impatient breath.

"You mean to say you'd set yourself up as knowin' mor'n your people before you did?"

"I believe each generation grows wiser, or ought to--wiser and kinder."