Kathie's Soldiers Part 14

Charlie Darrell made his appearance quite late in the evening, with d.i.c.k Grayson. The tapers were just burning their last.

"Farewell to thee, O Christmas tree!" sang d.i.c.k. "Was Santa Claus good to you, Miss Kathie?"

"Very generous indeed."

"But O, didn't you miss Rob?"

Kathie had to tell them about Uncle Robert's visit. "And then, you know, I wasn't home last year"--in answer to their question.

"True. There was a gay time here at Cedarwood. When Rob sets out, he is about as funny as any boy I know. Don't you suppose he is just aching to be at home?"

"I expect to get off next year," said d.i.c.k, "to Yale. But I shall be dreadfully homesick at first."

"So should I," responded Charlie; "but Rob is such a jolly, happy-go-lucky fellow."

"Has he been in any sc.r.a.pes yet, Miss Kathie?"

"Not that I have heard," said Kathie, laughing.

A group around the piano were clamoring for Kathie to play. She had promised them some carols.

d.i.c.k and Charlie joined. A happy time they had, singing everything they knew. Kathie had become a very fair musician already.

While the little ones were hunting up their wraps, Kathie lingered a moment beside Charlie.

"How is Miss Jessie to-night?" she asked.

"Quite well." Then, looking into her eyes, "You have heard--"

"About Mr. Meredith? yes."

"It is too bad,--isn't it? And he has had a subst.i.tute in the war. I think he ought to have come back."

Kathie was silent. How much duty did a man or a woman owe to these great life questions? And was there not something grander and finer in this last act of heroism than many people were capable of? If she could have chosen for him, like Charlie, she would have desired his return; but if every wife and every mother felt so about their soldiers?

She kissed Ethel with a peculiar sympathy when she bade her good night.

Mr. Morrison was well and satisfied with the new life,--liked it, indeed.

For the next fortnight it seemed to Kathie that nothing happened,--school life and home life, and she a little pendulum vibrating between the two, waiting for some hour to strike.

She answered Sarah's letter, and promised that she and her uncle would drive up when there came a pleasant Sat.u.r.day with the roads in comfortable order.

There had been quite an accession to the school on the first of January.

Mrs. Wilder had twenty-one pupils now. Mr. Lawrence came in to give them lessons in music, French, and penmanship. Kathie felt quite small, there were so many young ladies.

Several new families had moved into Brookside the preceding summer, and the Alstons' acquaintance had slowly widened among the better cla.s.s.

Kathie remembered how grand she had once considered Miss Jessie, and now she was really beyond that herself.

At twelve the girls had fifteen minutes' intermission. Sometimes they took a little run through the long covered walk, but oftener gathered around the stove or visited at one another's desks. There was always a vein of school-girlish gossip on dress, or amus.e.m.e.nts, or parties, or perhaps the books they were reading. This generally took in the circle just above Kathie, yet she used occasionally to listen, and it always brought a thought of Ada to her mind.

She sat puzzling over some French verbs one rainy day, while Emma brought out her cathedral that she was doing in India-ink. The talk from the group before them floated to their hearing. It was styles and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g, velvet and laces that were "real," and gloves with two b.u.t.tons.

Emma glanced up with an odd smile. Kathie, seeing it, smiled too.

"Let us take a turn in the walk," Emma said.

She was so much taller that she put her arm around Kathie with an odd, elder-sisterly feeling.

"They seem never to get tired of it," she began. "I wonder if there isn't something better to this life than the clothes one wears?"

"Yes," Kathie answered, in a slow, clear tone, though she shrank a little from giving her opinion. She had a shy desire to escape these small responsibilities, yet the consciousness of "bearing witness"

always brought her back.

"What is it?"

The blunt question startled her, and a faint color stole into her face.

"I watch you sometimes when I suppose you are not dreaming of it. We have been sitting here together for three months, we were at the Fair,--and there is something different about you from what I find in most girls. I wonder if it is your taste or your nature."

"We are none of us alike," said Kathie, with a peculiar half-smile.

"It is not that specific difference which we all have. You appear to be thinking of others, you never answer crossly, you often give up your own ease and comfort, and there is a little light in your eyes as if something out of your soul was shining through them. And all this talk about dressing and what one is going to do by and by never touches you at all. I suppose you could have everything you want! Lottie Thorne says your uncle idolizes you, and--he is rich, I know."

"I have all that is necessary, and many luxuries," Kathie answered, slowly.

"But what makes you--what keeps you in such a heaven of content? O, I can't explain what I mean! I wonder if you have religion, Kathie Alston."

Do her best, Kathie could not keep the tears out of her eyes. What was there to cry about? But somehow she felt so strange and shy, and full of tender pain.

"I think we ought all to try," she answered, with a sweet seriousness in her voice. "Even if we cannot take but one step--"

"I wish I knew _what_ it was!"

Kathie's heart was in her throat. She only understood part of the steps herself. How could she direct another? So they took two or three turns in silence, then the bell rang.

"There! I had so much to say, and maybe I shall never feel in the mood again. About dress, too. Some of it troubles me sadly."

She stooped suddenly and kissed Kathie on the forehead, gave her hand a sudden, earnest pressure, and then was her olden grave self.

And Kathie wondered a little if she had not shirked a duty! It seemed now as if it would be very easy to say, "I have enlisted in that greater army of the Lord, and will do what service I can." Why had it been so hard a moment ago? Had she been challenged at the outpost and found without a countersign?

CHAPTER VII.

A VISIT.