Jane Lends A Hand Part 38

"You've come back! I knew it! I knew you would!" she cried, patting his shoulders and the wet, rough sleeves of his shabby coat in a perfect ecstasy of delight. "Oh, Paul-come in! come in quickly!" But he drew back.

"No, no Janey. I can't do that. But what's going on, anyway?"

"Why, Paul-don't you know? It's Elise-Elise's wedding. And what do you think? There's another Winkler after all-Oh, you've got to come in, Paul-"

"No; Janey-I can't," he repeated firmly. "I'll come back again some day, as I promised-but not now. I can't do it now. I only stopped to look in-I'm on my way down to Riverbury-there's a fellow down there who says he has some work for me, if I want to come. I-I just stopped to peek in, thinking that perhaps I'd see you all sitting around the fire. A fine wedding guest I'd make," he added laughing. "I'd be a worse mortification to Uncle Peter than ever I was. No, Janey, I can't. Walk in there like this? The black sheep of the family coming in like a vagabond at the wedding feast?"

Indeed, he was shabby enough-and in his laugh was a tell-tale note of something like shame. It stung his pride not a little to have even Janey see the plain evidences of the rather unsuccessful struggle he had been waging with circ.u.mstances. He wore the same old seaman's cap, the same old short, thick jacket-but frayed edges, patches, and empty b.u.t.tonholes did not escape Janey's eyes, and he knew it, and tried to draw out of the light. He was much thinner too, and even a trifle taller, so that his garments, which had never fitted him kindly were now still looser in the places where they had once been much too loose and tighter where they had once been much too tight. He felt also that the light showed only too plainly the traces that actual hunger had drawn in his face, and of these he was more ashamed than of his clothes.

"You mustn't stand out here, Janey-you're shivering in that thin dress.

And I must say good-bye-you've left the door open, and here come some people."

Janey glanced over her shoulder. Through the door from the hall, her father was entering the dining room, with Elise, followed by Hyacinth and Aunt Gertrude, and then the remaining guests. The ceremony of solemnly drinking the bride's health was about to take place. Granny sat at the head of the table.

"How lovely Elise looks," said Paul, "and how nice it is to see them all. There's Mrs. Deacon-and Lily and Mr. Sheridan-and there's my friend, Amelia. Is that fellow with the beard the bridegroom?"

"That's Hyacinth. And he's a Winkler-a real true Winkler, Paul. I found him."

"Did you?" said Paul, laughing, "I'm not surprised."

"Only I didn't know he was a Winkler-so it doesn't count-"

"Here comes Uncle Peter! He's seen you, Janey. Good-bye, dear." But she held both his hands tightly.

"I won't let you go! I won't, Paul! You don't understand. It's all right-"

Just then, Mr. Lambert pushed the half-open door wide.

"Jane! What are you doing? Come in at once-you've chilled the whole house!"

Everyone had turned, and was staring in amazement, as Jane pulled Paul to the threshold, under her father's very nose.

"What's this?" cried Mr. Lambert, seizing his nephew by the arm.

"It's-me, Uncle," said Paul. "I am going. I only-"

"Going!" cried Mr. Lambert. "Going! Not at all! Come in! Come in!"

The next thing that the bewildered Paul was conscious of was that he was standing inside the room, facing the table full of guests, with his uncle's arm jovially embracing his shoulders, Jane clinging to his hand, and everyone exclaiming over the returned prodigal.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" announced Mr. Lambert, but his speech was cut short, as Aunt Gertrude rushed forward to kiss the utterly dazed, uncomprehending, and horribly embarra.s.sed boy.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Mr. Lambert began again, "you are aware, I think, of the recent honor bestowed upon my nephew-an honor which is shared not only by his family, but by this community of which he is a part!" The remainder of the speech, no less than its resounding introduction was pure Greek to Paul, who stood with his long arms dangling, helplessly, and with open mouth, gazing from face to face, as if trying to piece out the solution of the mystery.

Then everyone began to clap their hands. His appearance had for the time being absorbed all interest. Granny, almost hidden behind the towering wedding cake, which had just been brought on to be cut, pulled him to her, and kissed him. Carl, looking very clean and spruce in his new suit, and snowy collar and polished shoes, shook hands with him. Elise embraced him, regardless of her silk dress, and her flowers and her veil; Hyacinth, looking abnormally solemn and important-the exuberant nature lover and enemy of civilization had miraculously vanished to give place to one of the most civilized and sedate of young men-Hyacinth shook his hand, and said something very incoherent and flowery about the pleasure and honor of meeting his distinguished cousin, and about their being in some sense, kindred spirits.

And then Paul, understanding nothing whatever, not at all sure that he was not dreaming, but feeling as happy as he was puzzled, took his place beside his uncle, to drink the health of the bride, and long life to the name of Winkler. It was nice to be there, to see all the familiar faces, to hear the familiar voices-above all it was good to have his part in this celebration of family happiness, to feel that these were his kin folk whose joys and sorrows must affect his life just as his affected theirs. But why was it that the glances that he met shone with pride?

What had _he_ done? Why were they not ashamed of him as he stood there, tattered and muddy-the very picture of the aimless, shiftless wanderer that his father had been before him? He blushed for himself, feeling vaguely that he ought not to be there, after all, that he should have resisted Jane and Mr. Lambert and gone his way. He looked around the familiar room,-above the chimneyplace hung the old, clumsily executed portrait of Great-grandfather Johann, in his snuff-colored Sunday suit-a severely pleasant-looking old man, with a constant expression of honesty and self-respect-who now seemed to gaze down placidly and commendingly upon the united gathering of his descendants. He had worked for them, had old Johann Winkler; it was his industry, his self-respect, his respect for the opinions of his fellow-citizens that had laid the foundations of their comfort and prosperity and their good standing in the community; from him had come the simple principles upon which they lived and worked together. And Paul felt, as he looked up into the painted blue eyes that old Johann would have dealt harshly with those who disregarded family responsibilities, or brought any shadow of public censure upon the name. And there, under those keen little blue eyes, he stood, ragged and disreputable-looking, and the keen little blue eyes seemed to ask him, "What does this mean, sir?" Yet, Uncle Peter had bidden him to the feast, and was even now filling the gla.s.s in front of him.

And then the toasts were drunk, and the gla.s.ses clinked, and the wedding cake was cut. And after that, Elise went up to her room to change her dress, for the sleigh was at the door, and it was high time that the bride and bridegroom should be on their way. Of peculiar interest, the fact should be chronicled that when the ascending bride tossed her bouquet over the bannisters into the midst of her maids, Dolly and Amelia, and Lily, and Annie Lee, it was Amelia who caught the nosegay!

And at last, the sleigh with its jingling bells had driven swiftly away over the snowy road. The last handful of rice had been flung; the last guest had gone, and Aunt Gertrude stood laughing and weeping over the flight of the first of her little flock-though indeed Elise and her Hyacinth were going no farther than Salisbury, and would be back in two days!

Paul and Jane stood side by side on the rice-strewn steps looking up the moonlit street.

"Mr. Daniels is building a porch on his house, isn't he?" remarked Paul, quickly detecting the little alterations that had occurred on that familiar street since his going.

"Come in, children," said Aunt Gertrude, "come in, my dears, and let me count you all to make sure that no more than one has run away from me!"

And when they had all gathered around her in the old dining room in the midst of the gay disorder of the wedding-feast, she made a pretense of counting them, laughing and crying at the same time.

"Here is my Jane and my Carl, and my two sleepy twinnies! That's four-and here's my missing fifth!" And she gave Paul an extra kiss.

Paul looked around him. Then turning to his uncle he said;

"Uncle Peter, you've been very kind to me. I had no intention to come in here to-night-I only stopped to look in at you all-and I'm afraid I wasn't anything to be proud of at Elise's wedding-"

"Come, my boy, no more of that!" said Mr. Lambert briskly; then he came closer to Paul, and laying his hand on his shoulder looked keenly into the lean, and somewhat haggard face.

"You've not found life easy since you went away?" he asked kindly.

"Not too easy, sir-and not so bad either," returned Paul, st.u.r.dily.

"I've been out of luck a bit lately, but I'm on my way now to Riverbury.

There's a man there that has good, honest work for me. With a little time, sir, I hope-"

"Why should you be on your way to Riverbury for work when there's work enough in this town, and a comfortable home for you?"

Paul looked uncertainly from face to face, and then at his uncle again.

"It's here that your people have lived these many years," went on Mr.

Lambert. "It's here that those who are proud of you live now,-"

"_Proud_ of me?" repeated Paul; then he hung his head as he said in a low voice, "It is not long since that you showed me you had good reason to be ashamed of me, sir. I was only hoping that in a little I might do-I might be of some account, sir-as _he_ would expect," and he jerked his head as he spoke toward the picture of old Johann.

"My boy, I do not say but that I may have judged you over-harshly for what to other men might seem a light enough indiscretion. I thought you-a scatter-brained lad that thought too little of things that old men know to be worth valuing. I had but little sympathy with your notions, and was angered that you should prattle of pictures and what-not when-ah, well, let all that be forgotten."

"But Daddy!" cried Jane suddenly, "Paul doesn't know!"

"Doesn't know what?"

"Let _me_ tell him! Let me tell him! It's your picture, Paul-"

"What picture?" asked Paul, with a puzzled frown, looking down at her eager little face.

"It won, Paul! Don't you understand-it won! And we're all so proud of you-and it was in the papers-only we didn't know where you were, and-"

"What _are_ you talking about, Janey?" demanded Paul, cutting short this rush of breathless words. "_My_ picture won? What picture? Won what?"