Jewel Weed Part 5

And when he had worked like Daedalus--and you've probably forgotten who Daedalus was, now that you have been a few weeks out of college--when he had worked like Daedalus, I say, and got the hardest of it done, he began to look at something besides the Falls and to pine for means of dalliance. Behold then at his hand, Lake Imnijaska! And now Madeline Elton is the best thing on its sh.o.r.e. Gee up, old motor!"

They sped along and d.i.c.k took up the tale. He was used to talking while Norris listened and appreciated.

"Evidently you don't know who Daedalus was or you would have answered back. What kind of an omniscient editor are you going to make, think you? Never mind, Daedalus is dead; and, anyway, Edison has beaten him by six holes.

"The lake, as I was saying, twists and turns so that it gets in more sh.o.r.e to the square inch than any other known sheet of water. Therefore the real-estate dealer loves it. And if you elevate your longsh.o.r.e nose and sniff at our lake because no salt codfish dry upon smelly wharves and no sea anemones or crabs appear and disappear with the tides, then will the entire population of St. Etienne rise and howl anathemas at you. They will run you out of town on the Chicago Express, and as you fly for your life they will shriek after you, 'Well, anyway, we feed the world with flour!' Yes, sir, that is the way we Westerners argue."

d.i.c.k halted at the top of the hill up which the faithful motor had coughed, and the two looked down on the shimmering blue that stretched below them with arms of broken opals sprawling for miles, now here, now there. Long tortuous pa.s.sages opened out anew into ever more bays, as though the water were greedy to explore. Around it rolled the woodland in billows of intense green with sandy beaches in the troughs and straight cliffs at the crests. The green islands were vivid in color. So was the sky above, like the flash in a sapphire. A half-dozen sails fluttered gull-like, and as many launches darted along, suggesting living water creatures.

"By Jove!" Ellery exclaimed, moving uneasily. "When you sniff this air it makes you want to stand on tiptoe on a hilltop and shout. And when you look at these colors, they are too brilliant to be true."

"Even you, you old conservative slow-poking duffer!" cried d.i.c.k. "This is the land to wake you up. It calls 'harder--harder!' every-day."

"It's a different kind of beauty from what I'm used to." Ellery sobered down again. "I've been trying to a.n.a.lyze it ever since I came West. It wouldn't appeal to the tired or the world-weary. Its charm is for the vigorous and the confident and the hopeful--for the young."

"For us, my boy," d.i.c.k said.

"At Madeline's," as d.i.c.k called it, with that obliviousness of the older generation shown by the younger, Norris felt as they entered, as he had felt at Mrs. Percival's, that he was in a candid, human, refined home, with a full appreciation of the finer sides of life. They pa.s.sed through the drawing-room and by long gla.s.s doors to the broad piazza, with every invitation to laziness, easy chairs, cushions, magazines, all made fragrant by a huge jar of roses and another of sweet peas. And there was not too much. The veranda in turn gave upon a wide expanse of green that stretched steeply down to that cool wet line where the lapping waters met the lawn. The trees whispered softly around. Every prospect was pleasing, and only man was vile; for there was another man, sitting in the most comfortable of chairs and engaging Madeline all to himself, as he contentedly sipped the cup of tea that he had taken from her hand.

This other man, whose name was Davison, was making himself agreeable after the fashion of his kind, a fashion quite familiar to every girl who has been so unfortunate as to get a reputation, however little deserved, for superior brains.

"Afternoon," he said, "I didn't suppose any other fellows except myself were brave enough, to call on Miss Elton. I hear she's so awfully clever, you know. Taken degrees and all that sort of thing. Give you my word it comes out in everything around her. Why, this very napkin she gave me has a Greek border. Everything has to be cla.s.sic now."

"Not everything, Mr. Davison," said Madeline indulgently. "You know I am delighted to have you here." She turned abruptly to the new-comers as though she had already had a surfeit of this subject. It is a pleasant thing to have had a good education, but one does not care to spend one's time thinking about it, any more than about how much money there is in one's pocket.

"You had a fine ride out?" Madeline asked.

"Great!" answered d.i.c.k. "To be young, on a summer day, seated in a good motor with a thoroughly tamed and domesticated gasoline engine, and to be coming to see you--what more could we ask of the G.o.ds?"

"You see Percival feels that he must lard the G.o.ds into his intercourse with you, Miss Elton," Mr. Davison interjected.

"That's because the G.o.ds have become nice homey things," retorted d.i.c.k.

"Even in the West we couldn't keep house without Dionysius a.s.sisted by Hebe to superintend our afternoon teas, and Hercules as a patron of baseball."

Madeline laughed and cast a grateful look in his direction.

"You see how pleasant it is to feel familiar with the G.o.ds so that you can use them freely," she said.

"So you don't think it's necessary, in order to be clever, to despise everything that's done nowadays, because the Greeks used up all the ideas first?" asked Davison.

"Not at all. Nature conducts a vast renovating and cleaning establishment, and whenever any old ideas look the least bit frayed or soiled around the edges, pop, in they go, and come out French dry-cleaned and as fresh as ever. They're sent home in a spick-span box and you couldn't tell 'em from new."

"If we don't get anything new I hope that we, at least, get rid of some of the old things--fears and superst.i.tions," said Madeline. "Things that are holy rites in one age are so apt to be holy frights in the next."

"Say, did you ever go down the streets of Boston and notice the number of signs of palmists and astrologers and vacuum cures?" exclaimed Davison. "But perhaps it ain't fair to take Boston for a standard."

Ellery, a true New Englander, stared at him in astonishment, as one who heard sacred things lightly spoken of.

"Most of us can see how funny we are," Davison pursued.

"Can we?" murmured d.i.c.k.

"But Boston," he went on calmly, "has lost her sense of humor. She peers down at everything she does and says, 'This is very serious.' That's why she takes astrologers in earnest. They're in Boston. Anyway, I think you were mighty sensible to come back to us, Miss Elton, rather than to stay in the unmarried state, alias Ma.s.sachusetts. A girl really has a much better chance in the West."

"Yes, that's where Miss Elton showed a long head," said d.i.c.k with evident glee.

"But really now, joking apart," Davison went on, having made his opening, "don't you think it's unsettling to a girl to do too much studying?"

"I hope you are not deeply agitated over the eradication of womanliness," Madeline remonstrated. "Really, Mr. Davison, it isn't an easy thing to stop being a woman--when you happen to be born one."

"But there are plenty of unwomanly women," he objected.

"That's true," she answered, "but I believe womanliness is killed--when it is killed--not through the brain, but through the heart. It's not knowledge, but hard-heartedness that makes the unwomanly woman."

She glanced up and met Norris' eyes. It was not easy for him to join in the chatter of the others, but he was thinking how she illuminated her own words. Manifestly she was not lacking in mind, and quite as evidently her brain was only the antechamber of her nature. She gave him the impression of "the heart at leisure from itself". There was the unconsciousness of sheltered girlhood, but already, in bud, the suggestion of that big type of woman who, as years mellow her, touches with sympathy every life with which she comes in contact. What she now was, promised more in the future, as though Fate said, "I'm not through with her yet. I've plenty in reserve to go to her making."

"Intelligence," said d.i.c.k pompously, "is the tree of life in man, and the flower in woman--and one does not presume to criticize flowers."

Mr. Davison changed his method of attack.

"Oh, of course I'm up against it," he said, "with you three fresh from the academic halls. But I can tell you you'll feel pretty lonely out here. The street-car conductors don't talk Sanskrit in the West. They talk Swede."

"Oh, this,--this is home!" cried Madeline, springing up as if to shake off the conversation. "You don't know how I love it! It's fresh and vigorous and its face is forward." She flung out her arms and smiled radiantly down on the three young men, as though she were an embodiment of the ozone of the Northwest.

"Sing to us, please, Madeline," said d.i.c.k.

"Very well, I will," she said. "I'll sing you a song I made myself yesterday, when I was happy because I was at home again. Perhaps it will tell you how I feel, for it's a song of Minnesota." She turned and nodded to Mr. Davison, and then slipped through the doors to the room where the piano stood.

The long shadows of afternoon lay across the lawn, and the gra.s.s, more green than ever in the level light, clasped the dazzling blue of the quiet waters. The three men stretched themselves in their easy chairs, as a stroked kitten stretches itself, with a lounging abandon which is forbidden to their sisters, as Madeline's voice rose fresh and true and touched with the joy of youth.

"Ho, west wind off the prairie; Ho, north wind off the pine; Ho, myriad azure lakes, hill-clasped, Like cups of living wine; Ho, mighty river rolling; Ho, fallow, field and fen; By a thousand voices nature calls, To fire the hearts of men.

"Ho, fragrance of the wheat-fields; Ho, garnered h.o.a.rds of flax; Ho, whirling millwheel, 'neath the falls; Ho, woodman's ringing ax.

Man blends his voice with nature's, And the great chorus swells.

He adds the notes of home and love To the tale the forest tells.

"Oh, young blood of the nation; Oh, hope in a world of need; The traditions of the fathers Still be our vital seed.

Thy newer daughters of the West, Columbia, mother mine, Still hold to the simple virtues Of field and stream and pine."

The song stopped abruptly, and d.i.c.k sprang to his feet.

"Good, Madeline!" he exclaimed. "You make me feel how great it is to be part of it."

"Do I?" she said. "I thought of you when I wrote it. Oh, here come father and mother back from their drive."

Mr. Davison rose hastily.

"I'd no idea it was so late," he said. "I must be going. Miss Elton, I didn't mean a word of all that about your being so clever. You're all right."

"Thanks for the tribute," Madeline smiled as he disappeared down the drive. "d.i.c.k, I wish you'd always be on hand when he comes. He makes my brain feel like a woolly dog."