Miss Theodosia's Heartstrings Part 13

"Something appropriate, you know," encouraged Miss Theodosia, brightly.

"In lovely pink writing on top."

"'She hath starched what she could,'" he offered tentatively.

"Oh, for shame! Something nice and romantic."

"But romance is dead--hold on, I beg pardon! That is not decided yet; I remember. You shall have your poetry, you and Evangeline. Something after this wise:

"'Our most esteemed Stefana, May rough winds never pain her'

"Do winds 'pain' people? But, to speak modestly, I call that a pretty neat sentiment to turn out extempo like that. 'Stefana'--you can't deny Stefana is a hard word to rhyme with. Now tell me a harder one!"

"Evangeline--Theodosia," she murmured. Her eyes dwelt lovingly on the little white cake. He should not make fun of it!

"I'll decorate it myself," she said, "I'll have a little pink heart on it--_two_ little pink hearts."

"With but a single thought. Make them with but a single thought--beat them as one. There! I'm perfectly sober and sane now. It's a fine little cake, and I'm not worthy to write poetry for it.

Longfellow--Shakespeare--Whitcomb Riley--we'll canva.s.s them. Don't think I'm not respectful to Stefana's birthday."

"I don't know what you call respect!" she retorted. But she knew the next day. She found out what he called respect. The knowledge came, as so much that was worth while came, through Evangeline, Elly Precious in its wake. They came running this time. Elly Precious' small body rolled and lurched with their hurry and the agitation of Evangeline's soul.

"Somethin's--happened."

"Give me the baby. Sit down, dear. Now."

"The flower wagon brought Stefana--roses," whispered Evangeline. "In a long box--an' tissue paper. Oh, my mercy gracious, stopped right straight at our house! An' n.o.body dead." Evangeline's whisper rose to a weird little cry. The wonder of the flower wagon stopping right straight! And every one alive!

"Stefana's countin' 'em. I guess she's counted 'em a hundred times.

They's--thirteen! They've got the longest stems you ever _saw_! Stefana can't get over their stems; she said they most made her cry."

For very breath Evangeline stopped. Over the little uneasy head of Elly Precious shone Miss Theodosia's eyes. Miss Theodosia was softly thrilled. The stems appealed, too, to her; she loved them long--long.

"Roses, you say? Oh, Evangeline! Birthday roses for Stefana! What color?"

"Red--red--red," chanted Evangeline "Thirteen red roses an' thirteen long stems. In a pasteboard box with 'Miss Stefana Flagg' wrote on it.

You ought to seen how Miss Stefana Flagg looked! She--she kissed the box. I guess now she's kissin' the roses. She never 'spected to have any roses till she was dead. An' then she couldn't 've kissed 'em an' cried at the stems," added Evangeline softly. She was suddenly a softened little Evangeline, curiously gentled by Stefana's sweet, red roses. Miss Theodosia caught her breath at the sight of the child's face and the thought of Stefana kissing her roses.

"I wish--I wish you'd go over an' congratcherlate Stefana," whispered Evangeline. "She'd be so tickled. I'll keep Elly Precious ever here, an'

Carruthers is playin' ball in a field." As though this ceremony of 'congratcherlation' demanded quiet and privacy.

And by and by Miss Theodosia went. She had a whimsical impulse to carry her little silver card case, but she did not yield to the whimsey. She did take off her little white ap.r.o.n and smoothe her hair. Stefana to-day was a person for ceremonies and respect. Oh, the kindness, the clearness of those long-stemmed roses! She had not thought to do it herself, but he--a man creature--Miss Theodosia's eyes were tender.

Stefana was still sitting among her roses. They lay across her lap.

"Oh! Oh, come right in, Miss Theodosia!" she cried welcomingly. "But please to excuse me for not getting up--I can't bear to disturb them.

Seems as if I could sit right straight in this chair till they withered!

I'm breathing easy so not to breathe the smell out. I never had any roses before."

Her voice lowered to almost a whisper. She whispered a little laugh.

"Seems as if I'd ought to be married while I have 'em! They're such beautiful roses to be married in!"

And this was Stefana, their matter-of-fact, starchy little white-washer!

This rapt, dreamy little face was Stefana's face!

"Sometimes," Stefana murmured, "sometimes I've dreampt--" but Miss Theodosia did not quite catch what it was Stefana had sometimes "dreampt," but it was something sweet. Stefana a little dreamer of sweet dreams! One of them must have been a rose-dream, and this was that dream come true.

The call of congratulation was a brief one. It seemed little short of irreverence to have seen at all that picture of Stefana rocking her roses in the little wooden rocker. Miss Theodosia slipped away with it hung on the walls of her mind--she would never take it down.

John Bradford was coming along the road and she went a little way to meet him. Some of Stefana's radiance was in her own face.

"I've found it," she announced in soft triumph.

"Good!" he hazarded at random. It was always good to find things. But he wondered at the radiance.

"My romance that I knew was somewhere. I've found it! I told you so!"

"Found it where?" he demanded. He was unconsciously stirred by her emotion. He followed her glance to the little House of Flaggs.

"Not--there?"

"Yes, there. Stefana is dreaming it over a lapful of red roses. I have been there and seen her. Is romance dead--is it? Go and look at Stefana!" But she held him back from going. "No, no, I didn't mean it!

Not in cold blood--I didn't go in cold blood. You will have to take my word for it."

"I will take your word."

"That romance is not dead?"

"That romance is alive. But who would have thought of it's being _Stefana_!"

"Who would have thought!" echoed Miss Theodosia.

Elly Precious was fretting restlessly when she got back. The children were on the porch.

"Nothing's the matter with him," Evangeline explained, "unless it's because he's a-goin' to be taken. I told him he was. It is kind of scaring to be taken. I feel kind of that way, too."

"Taken where?"

"Not any where--just _taken_. His picture an' mine an'

Carruthers'--we're all goin' to be taken now, pretty soon. I must go home an' prink Elly Precious an' Carruthers. You see, Mr. Bradford promised to take Stefana because it's her birthday, an' first we knew he said he'd take all o' us! He's got a camera. That's him now! I guess he's waitin' for Elly Precious an' me."

She was hurrying away, but bethought herself of something. "The cake!"

she said. "If Elly Precious'll be still, I can carry it on my other arm.

Maybe we'll be so busy being taken that I can't come over again before supper."

"Run along," Miss Theodosia said; "I'll take it over. I haven't quite got it ready yet," for there were the two little pink hearts to add,--Stefana's heart and a little dream-heart. She smiled tenderly over the fashioning of those little pink hearts. Miss Theodosia was not an artist--they wavered and leaned, but they leaned toward each other!

Perhaps they were better to be little leaning hearts.

She carried the cake over, covered with a napkin. There were other things, too, that she had prepared, and several trips were necessary. A mold of quivering, scarlet jelly, full of fascinating glints of light; scalloped, currant-rich cookies, a little platter of cold chicken--Miss Theodosia carried them all over covered with napkins.