The Story of the Big Front Door Part 36

"The heights by great men reached and kept Were not attained by sudden flight, But they while their companions slept Were toiling upward in the night."

"Cousin Zelie thinks I am lazy," he said, laughing.

"Mine is better than Dora's, and I know where it came from, and she has not an idea," said Carl. His lines were:

"My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten Because my heart is pure."

"I don't care, for I can find out, and that is half the fun," Dora replied, comparing hers with Louise's, which had lilies of the valley on it, and these lines:

"I pray the prayer of Plato old-- G.o.d make thee beautiful within, And may thine eyes the good behold In everything save sin."

Uncle William put his card away before anybody had seen it, and refused to show it, in spite of much coaxing.

"It is too complimentary; modesty forbids," Carl suggested.

"Why didn't you and Miss Helen favor us with something original, Mrs.

Howard?" asked Mr. Caruth.

"He is making fun of the Harp Man's Benefit," said Miss Hazeltine.

"I am afraid we exhausted our genius on that occasion," her cousin answered, laughing.

"Uncle William, there is one thing you must tell us," said Bess, "and that is, _when_ you were more surprised than to-night?"

"Oh, that was long ago!" he replied. "It was Aunt Marcia who surprised me." All eyes turned to Mrs. Hazeltine.

"Aunt Marcia, how did you do it?"

"I am sure I can't tell you. I think I am the one most apt to be surprised."

"You'll have to tell," said Carl, turning to his uncle.

"Well, if you must know, it was when she said '_Yes._'"

Everybody laughed, and his wife said majestically: "My dear, you are very absurd." But she did not appear seriously displeased.

"I don't understand," remarked Helen; "what did she say yes _to_?" and this of course brought down the house.

After supper was over they danced and played games till, all too soon, the evening was over.

"Good times never last quite long enough," Louise said, as her uncle was arranging for the farewell Virginia reel.

"I thought they lasted the year around," remarked Mr. Caruth, who stood beside her.

"I mean special ones," she answered gayly, as she went off with him to take her place, leaving Ikey rather crestfallen.

The others had quickly paired off: Carl and Dora, Aleck and Bess, Jim and Elsie, Will and Constance. Elsie called "Tucker" aggravatingly as she pa.s.sed.

"Anyway, I didn't want to dance with her," he said to himself.

Miss Hazeltine was playing for them, and Aunt Marcia sat with Miss Brown looking on; Aunt Zelie stood in the doorway.

She smiled at Ikey when he looked in her direction, saying: "Do you want a partner?"

His gloom turned to rapture. "Oh! Mrs. Howard, will you?"

"I'll try," she answered, as they took their places, his heart beating quickly with pride and delight. And never was a dance performed with more reverent devotion.

"Why, Aunt Zelie, that is not fair!" called Carl, as he and Dora danced down the middle and back again.

"I didn't know you danced, Mrs. Howard," said Jim, upon whom Ikey cast a triumphant glance.

When it was over she was besieged with partners for another, but she refused, declaring it was too late.

So ended Uncle William's surprise party.

When the door had closed on the last guest and Bess at the piano was playing a s.n.a.t.c.h of a waltz, Carl pounced upon his aunt and carried her off before she knew it.

"Ikey shall not get ahead of _me_," he said, as after sailing twice around the room he dropped her breathless on the sofa.

CHAPTER XXIII.

JIM.

For various reasons, after a flourishing existence of two winters, the G.N. Club was given up, or perhaps it should be said was merged in the Order of the Big Front Door, which still held monthly meetings, and whose members wore their silver keys and tried in different ways to carry out their motto.

There was hardly time in the press of school work for the weekly meetings, and, besides, out of the little club had grown what was known as the Boys' Civic League, an organization among schoolboys, in which, under the direction of one of their professors, they studied the history of their own town and pledged themselves to do all they could for its welfare. So, as Mrs. Howard wished it, the Good Neighbors gave up their club and joined the League.

They still considered themselves her boys, however, and a week seldom pa.s.sed in which some of them did not spend an hour with her. They owed more than they knew to her companionship, for in varying degrees her love for what was pure and true had left its impress on their characters. Her interest in them had grown with their years, and she looked forward with regret to the next winter, when most of them would go away to school. She would miss their boyish devotion, and she dreaded the temptations which they must so surely meet. Each one must fight his own battle, she knew, and she had not much fear for quiet, painstaking Will, or even for Carl, with all his faults; Ikey was still a good deal of a child, conscientious and open-hearted; but Aleck, with his brightness and indolence, and Jim, with his handsome face, engaging ways, and money, gave her most concern.

Three years had brought about some changes. Little John's place was vacant. A sudden sharp illness, and the frail life went out, leaving a sweet and gentle memory, for John had helped in ways he did not dream of. Every one of those merry girls and boys was more thoughtful and tender for the a.s.sociation with him. Seeing the pleasure their companionship gave him, they learned the value of simple friendliness.

Fred Ames had gone to Chicago to live, and this reduced the members of the Order to ten, not counting, of course, the "Honoraries," as Miss Brown and Aunt Zelie were called.

"I can't imagine what ails Jim," Carl remarked at the lunch table one day, a week or two after Uncle William's birthday; "he wasn't at school and when I stopped there on my way home the man said he believed he had a headache and could not see anyone. That is not in the least like Jim."

"I see nothing so strange in that. A headache can be a very serious thing while it lasts," said his father.

"But if you had seen the man. He looked as if he were making it up."

"Much study has affected your imagination, Carl," laughed Cousin Helen.

"And what is the matter with you, then, Cousin Helen? Who sent Aunt Zelie a postal card with nothing on it but the address?" inquired Louise.

This caused a laugh, for Miss Hazeltine was just now the target for all the teasing her young relatives could contrive.