At the Little Brown House Part 36

"I don't b'lieve it! Let's see you do it!"

Mr. Strong laid aside his hat, rumpled up his s.h.i.+ning black hair, and went through some fearful contortions of face, which almost paralyzed Peace for the moment. Then she screamed her delight, hopping about on one foot, and shouting boisterously, "You win, you win, Mr. Strong! If I can ever make faces like those, I shall be perfectly happy. Do you s'pose I am young enough to learn? It must have taken you all your life to do it so beautifully. Will you teach me how?"

On the other side of the fence something moved in the thick brush, and there was a sound of a man's deep chuckle, but the two contestants in the art of making faces were too much occupied to notice anything of their surroundings, and the unknown watcher enjoyed this novel entertainment for some moments.

At length the preacher said, "Well, Peace, I came over to see Gail.

Where can I find her?"

"In the kitchen, most likely. Come along; I will hunt her up."

The two strolled off toward the house, and a crouching figure in the hazel thicket followed them until they entered the kitchen door, when it dropped flat on the ground again and remained there alert and listening during the conference in the little brown house.

When at last, as dusk was falling, the minister strode down the path to the gate, a shabby, gray-haired man emerged from the shadows along the roadside and hurried after him. Hearing footsteps so close by, the young man halted, expecting to see some of his paris.h.i.+oners or acquaintances of the village trying to overtake him, and was naturally somewhat startled when accosted by a stranger.

"I beg your pardon," said Mr. Strong. "I thought it was someone who wanted me."

"It is," replied the shabby man. "I take it that you are pastor of the Parker Church,--Mr. Strong, I believe?"

"Yes, sir," answered the preacher, still a little bewildered.

"My name is Donald Campbell--"

"President Campbell of the University?" gasped Mr. Strong in surprise, involuntarily looking down at the stranger's threadbare clothes.

"As you prefer. Oh, I am in disguise! I will make explanations as we walk along if you can give me a few moments of your time. I should like to interview you in regard to our late Brother Peter Greenfield's family."

CHAPTER XXI

SURPRISES

"Why, Gail, what are you doing?" asked Faith one cold, dull November day, as she hurried into the kitchen from her village trip, and found the older sister picking two plump hens.

"Can't you see?" smiled the girl, glancing up from her task with an excited, happy sparkle in her eyes.

"Yes, I can see, but what is the occasion? Has Peace made another raid on the hen-house with poison or rat-traps? I shouldn't suppose we could afford chicken unless by accident. Thanksgiving is more than two weeks off."

"What day is tomorrow? Am I the only one who remembers?"

"November tenth--your birthday! Oh, Gail, it had slipped my mind for the minute! No wonder you are getting up a celebration if everyone forgets like that."

"Oh, it isn't on account of the birthday, Faith; that just happened.

It's the mortgage--"

"Of course, I knew it was due soon, but the relief at being able to get the money made me overlook the exact date, I guess. So that is the cause of your excitement!"

"Partly, and then we are to have company for dinner, too."

"Who?" demanded Faith, again surprised.

"Mr. and Mrs. Strong and Glen and Mrs. Grinnell."

"What in the world will we do with them all? Eight is a tight fit for our dining-room."

"It will crowd us a little, but I have it all planned nicely. Glen must sit in his daddy's lap--he often does at home when they have company and haven't room at the table for his high-chair--and of course I will wait on the people, so there will be room for all."

"Of course you _won't_ wait on the people! What waiting there is to attend to I shall look after. You are mistress of this house. Oh, I can't help hugging myself every other minute to think Mr. Strong was able to get the money for the mortgage and we won't have to leave this dear little brown house after all."

"Do you care so much?" asked Gail, with such a curious wistfulness in her voice that Faith stopped her ecstatic prancing to study the thin, flushed face.

"I should say I do!" she exclaimed emphatically. "Someway, in these last six months it has grown ever so much dearer than I ever dreamed it could. I used to think I hated farm life, and it fretted me because we couldn't live in Pendennis or Martindale, and have things like other folks. I did want a piano so much, instead of a worn-out, wheezy old organ."

"Wouldn't you still like all that?" questioned the older girl, keeping her eyes fixed on the half-picked fowl in her lap, as if afraid of betraying some delightful secret.

"Oh, yes, indeed! But I gave up thinking about such things a long time ago. The farm is all we have, and there is the mortgage to pay on that; so I just shut up my high-falutin notions, as Mrs. Grinnell calls them, and mean to be happy doing my part in the home. I have wasted too much time already."

"You have done your part splendidly," cried Gail with br.i.m.m.i.n.g eyes, letting the chicken slip unnoticed from her hands as she threw one arm around Faith's waist; "and now that--" She bit her tongue just in time to keep the wonderful secret from tumbling off, and flushed furiously.

"And now that what?" questioned the other girl, without the faintest trace of suspicion in her voice.

"Now that this hard year is over, we are going to do a little celebrating even if we can't afford it," answered Gail, thinking rapidly. "Will you make a caramel cake for our dinner? Mrs. Grinnell is so fond of it, and I know it will hit the right spot with the minister.

It was his suggestion that he tell--" Again she stopped in confusion.

"About the mortgage money," Faith finished. "Well, he certainly has earned the right. We have a lot to thank him for. Do you know who is loaning the money, or is that still a secret from you, too?"

"No, Mr. Strong told me, but he wants the privilege of telling the rest of you, so I promised to keep still."

"Oh!" There was a long pause, during which both girls busied themselves with the chickens; and then Faith ventured the question, "Is it Judge Abbott?" Gail smilingly shook her head. "Nor Dr. Bainbridge?" Again the brown head shook. "Then it is Mrs. Grinnell. I thought of her in the first place--"

"You are wrong again. All the money she has is tied up in her farm and in the house in Martindale."

"Is it anyone in town?"

"No."

Faith was plainly puzzled. "Man or woman?"

"Both," answered Gail after a slight hesitation.

"Do I know them?"

"About as well as I do."

"Where do they live?"

"In Martindale."