Aunt Jane's Nieces Abroad
Since Uncle John had
settled a comfortable income on his niece the grocer was paid promptly
and Mrs. De Graf wore a silk dress on Sundays and held her chin a little
higher than any other of the Cloverton ladies dared do. The Professor,
no longer harrassed by debts, devoted less time to the drudgery of
teaching and began the composition of an oratorio that he firmly
believed would render his name famous. So, there being less to quarrel
about, Beth's parents indulged more moderately in that pastime; but
their natures were discordant, and harmony in the De Graf household was
impossible.
When away from home Beth's disposition softened. Some of her
school-friends had seen her smile--a wonderful and charming phenomenon,
during which her expression grew sweet and bewitchingly animated and her
brown eyes radiant with mirthful light. It was not the same Beth at all.
Sometimes, when the nieces were all at Aunt Jane's, Beth had snuggled in
the arms of her cousin Louise, who had a way of rendering herself
agreeable to all with whom she came in contact, and tried hard to win
the affection of the frankly antagonistic girl. At such times the
gentleness of Elizabeth, her almost passionate desire to be loved and
fondled, completely transformed her for the moment. Louise, shrewd at
reading others, told herself that Beth possessed a reserve force of
tenderness, amiability and fond devotion that would render her adorable
if she ever allowed those qualities full expression. But she did not
tell Beth that. The girl was so accustomed to despise herself and so
suspicious of any creditable impulses that at times unexpectedly
obtruded themselves, that she would have dismissed such a suggestion as
arrant flattery, and Louise was clever enough not to wish to arouse her
cousin to a full consciousness of her own possibilities.
The trained if not native indifference of this strange girl of fifteen
was demonstrated by her reception of Uncle John's telegram. She quietly
handed it to her mother and said, as calmly as if it were an invitation
to a church picnic:
"I think I shall go.
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There was once an honest journeyman tailor, by name Labakan, who learned his trade with an excellent master in Alexandria. It could not be said that Labakan was unhandy with the needle; on the contrary, he could make excellent work: moreover, one would have done him injustice to have called him lazy. Nevertheless, his companions knew not what to make of him, for he would often sew for hours together so rapidly that the needle would glow in his hand, and the thread smoke, and that none could equal him.
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