protesting, from the head of his command to the ignominy of an afternoon nap. II Now all this time the mountain was flaunting forth its glories unobserved. Even at sunset, when, gathering an angry splendor of cloud about its formidable head, it stood magnificent against the flaming West, Buckhout's was engaged in tying up bundles with gay tissue-paper and ribbons, decorating the parlors, and hurrying through an early supper so as to be ready for the evening's fun. Rosalind, over at the cottage, had tied up her contribution a string of amber-colored beads which she had in her trunk, a little white gauze fan, half-a-dozen postal-cards which she had decorated with views before she began to dress. Tommy John had already gone over with Maggie to the house. He had absolutely refused to show Rosalind the contents of his "packidge," which, however, he had spent an ecstatic hour grubbing out of the hole by the apple-tree, and had tied up with lingering joy in a grimy paper with a dingy string. Rosalind looked with a shudder at this object, clasped proudly to the breast of an immaculate white suit. But suggestions of a possible blizzard still lurked in Tommy John's candid eye, and she held her peace. She was hurrying at last with her belated dressing, when the mountain began to growl. O, it could growl gloriously, could the mountain, when once it was aroused! It could command attention, if need were, with the imperious and wrathful majesty of a monarch! It Rosalind was timid in a thunder-storm. was foolish, she knew, and she tried not to be; but she was. She glanced out at the black sky, pierced by slender zigzags of lightning, and hurried faster with her dressing. If only she could get over to the house before the storm came fairly up! But the storm hurried faster than she. The mountain was in earnest now. Deeper and deeper sounded its splendid roar, brighter and brighter darted the vivid flashes round its head. Then, with a stealthy rustle among the leaves, with a cautious patter on the roof, with a sudden, swift, tumul tuous rush and roar that drowned even the rumble of the thunder in its wake, down came the rain. Rosalind dropped her hands and stood still. Even if she were dressed, she could not go over now. The rain cut her off, in her little solitary cottage, as if she were on a desert island. How empty the place seemed about her, how silent! Perhaps old Miss Tappan was in her room below. She ran down the dark stairs and knocked. No? Then she remembered. Miss Tappan was spending the evening in the village. She was quite alone. She opened the door a crack, and peeped fearfully out. The rain swept by in straight white streaks, lit by the trembling glare of the lightning. The road was a torrent. She ran up again to her little kerosene-lighted room. Here it was more cheerful, at least. She wished she did not feel so wretchedly alone. She wished there might be a pause, if only for a moment, in the steady, terrifying onslaught of the rain, the roar, and the glare. She laughed at herself to feel that her hands were cold and that her heart beat fast, and as she laughed, the tears came suddenly. And at that moment the door slammed below. "Oh!" cried Rosalind, springing to the stairs in the immense relief of feeling a human presence near. "Who is it?" "It's me," answered a voice, coolly, out of the darkness. Rosalind gasped. A human presence was all very well, but if it could have been somebody that one liked-! "It 's raining," said Rosamond, quite casually; from below. "I thought I'd better come into the nearest place and get dry." "Won't you come upstairs?" asked Rosalind, very politely. "Thank you," replied Rosamond, very frigidly. She really had to accept the invitation, for the hall was too small to turn around in, and the stairs were steep. "Bad storm to be caught out in," observed Rosalind, sitting down on the side of the bed with a fine air of unconcern. "Very," replied Rosamond, withdrawing to the window, and leaning there in an attitude of equally superb indifference. The conversation here coming to a dead stop, she looked hard at Rosalind. "You're crying!" she said abruptly. "And what do you care if I am!" demanded Rosalind. "I don't care!" returned Rosamond. "I thought, possibly, you might be afraid of the storm," she suggested with scorn. "Not at all!" declared Rosalind with spirit, turning pale and cowering visibly as a great peal of thunder shook the house. “I—well, if I was crying, it was because I-I miss my mother!" "Oh!" said Rosamond, dryly. "Yes,-I suppose people do miss their mothers, — when they have them to miss." denly; "why did you take that page out of my music?" A queer little smile quivered on Rosamond's lips. She looked at her enemy a moment, and then spoke, as if with a sudden determination. "I did n't," she said. "I knew you thought so, but I did n't. It was Tommy John." Tommy John!" "I met him going across the meadow with it that day. He was making paper boats to sail in the brook." 'Rosamond! And you never told—!” "Told-on a baby!" There was something wonderfully whimsical and sweet in that little smile of Rosamond's. "You are a dear!" cried Rosalind, with a warm impulse, which she probably regretted, "You have n't for she added, in the same breath, "I wish we "I remember." liked each other!" Rosalind looked up quickly. any mother!" she said. And you have n't any Aunt Kate, of course. But then,-you have Tommy John." "Yes," said Rosalind with a little gasp. "Oh, yes, we have Tommy John! Sometimes you're glad you have Tommy John, you know, and sometimes you 're-not. When he's a fire-engine, or a-But it would be bad not to have any Tommy John at all, Rosamond. I can see that. Or any mother. Why, you would n't believe it, but I've been just-homesick, this afternoon!" How sweet the wistful eyes of the White Rose would have been-if one had liked her! "Yes," said Rosamond, forgetting, “that was why I ca-I mean, of course, why I-why I am glad I happened in when I did," she finished, sternly, but she was too late. Rosalind's eye was upon her, startled, accusing. "Rosamond Lee, do you mean to say that you came over here on purpose, because you knew that I was alone-and scared?” "Yes," said Rosamond, rather bitterly, "it is a pity. But I am going away, anyway, soon. If you had n't told everybody about my being sent for to take those examinations-" "Told!" cried Rosalind, breathless. "I did n't tell a soul! You asked me not to!" "I know, but—" "Rosamond! That must have been Tommy John, too! Don't you remember, he was in the room that day when I opened your letter by mistake? He must have heard what we said, and he 's a perfect little parrot, you know Boom! bang! The mountain was doing its work well! The flash that marked the climax of the storm, tearing its way down the steep with a splitting crash and crackle of thunder, was so bright that Rosalind hid her face in her hands suddenly, and shivered. When she opened her eyes again, Rosamond was standing close beside her. "Don't be frightened-it won't hurt you,dear!" she said. Rosalind looked up at her. The whimsical 'Maybe I did, and maybe I did n't," said Rosamond, with much composure. But her cheeks were as red as her name. The others supposed Miss Tappan was here," she little smile still hovered on her lips. Her eyes added, by way of explanation. O, what a dear Red Rose-if only one had liked her! To come over in all that storm for the sake of an enemy! How kind, after all! How were very kind. A dimple deepened demurely in the White Rose's cheek as she gazed. "Rosamond!" she said, with a little catch in her voice, midway between a laugh and a sob, "Rosamond! It's very queer, but I queer,—but "Rosamond!" said the White Rose, sud- think, do you know, I really think-that fectly irresistible. The Red Rose held out her arms, and the White Rose flew into them. perhaps perhaps it might have been the cook, fectly irresistible. after all!" "I'm almost certain," returned Rosamond, positively, "now that I really come to think of it, that it must have been the laundress!" They looked at each other, breathless. 44 BOOM! BANG! THE MOUNTAIN WAS DOING ITS " WORK WELL! Bang! crash! But it was not the thunder this time. It was the door, below, and the voice of Alec shouted imperiously up the stairs. "Rose!" he cried, "where are you? What! both of you!" He gaped in astonishment as they appeared together on the landing. "Wait for us-we 'll come!" they cried, haughtily ignoring his alarmed and ardent offers of assistance in binding up wounds and removing the debris of battle; and hurrying into coats and overshoes, they tumbled, laughing and breathless, down the stairs. Buckhout's was all alight with lamps and brave with flowers and greens. A gay hum from the parlors penetrated the hall, and there on the lowest stair sat Johanna, thrilling with delicious agitation, and bursting into wild sobs of emotion whenever the progress of events was reported to her from within. "Don't cry, Johanna!" begged Rosalind, fervently, running to her, waterproof and all. "And, O, Johanna, don't forget that you must never judge people by their looks, even if they are thin!" "And if they happen to share your room, Johanna," urged Rosamond, earnestly, on the other side, "that shouldn't make you suspicious of them, remember, especially if they are fat and good-natured!" "Yes 'm,-no 'm!" sobbed Johanna, looking wildly from one to the other, and convinced that she was indeed losing her senses. "And me money, Miss,-me lit-" "Here, ladies and gentlemen," cried the Dusenberry boy, in the parlor, "here we have a unique and remarkable package,-one of the most unusual and-er-engaging, in the whole collection. This, we may be sure, is no ordinary article. It bears the unmistakable stamp of-I was about to say, of genius, but I with "Then there's nothing left to quarrel draw the inadequate expression-the stamp about!" said Rosalind. "Not a thing!" declared Rosamond. "And if we only liked each other-O Rosamond! I would lend you Tommy John-!" The laugh and the sob brimmed over together all at once, in a sparkle that was perVOL. XXXIII.-109-110. of-Tommy John! What, ladies and gentlemen, am I offered for this extraordinary package?" Tommy John, watching the proceedings with laboring breath, could now be seen to squirm in a very ecstasy of excitement. A THE SAINTS PRESARVE US!' SHE GASPED. deeper hum of amusement and interest filled the parlor. The bids came thick and fast. Johanna rocked harder and sobbed louder with every bid. "Fifty! Sixty! Seventy-five!" shouted the auctioneer. "Lady from Boston-eighty-five! Gentleman from Arizona- make it a dollar! Dollar-only a dollar for-no price at all, ladies and gentlemen! Dollar-ten! Quarter! Thirty-five! No more? Thirty-five, oncetwice-Sold for a dollar-thirty-five to the gentleman from Arizona! Please step up, sir, and open the package, to see if the goods are O. K.!" There was a moment's hush. Then laughter, then a cry of surprise-of astonishment and wonder. The two Roses, divested of their wraps, ran to the door and looked in. The gentleman from Arizona, now the happy owner of a rubber ball, a choice, though half-broken stick of licorice, six tin soldiers, and a pegless top, held also, dangling from his finger, something thick and soft, something with a steel chain and a fringe that glittered. "Johanna!" rose an eager cry from the spectators. And Johanna, dragged to the door, uttered a shriek of ecstatic recognition. "The saints presarve us!" she gasped. "'Tis the very f'atures of me bag!" "But-but-Tommy John! turned, breathless, to her little brother. Rosalind "T IS THE VERY F'ATURES OF ME BAG!'" "She gave it to me!" cried Tommy John, sturdily, wriggling out of Maggie's clutch. "You look-a-here, Rosy Armstrong, what you lookin' at me for? She said shure I could have everything I found in the box, darlint,— yes, sir, she did-that's what she said!" "T is the truth!" affirmed Johanna, solemnly, with rolling eyes. "'Twas up in me room he was this livin' mornin', snoopin' around in me trash-box, as he's a way of doin'. 'Can I have iverythin' I finds, Johanna?' he says. 'Sure ye can, darlint,' I says, niver noticin' a thing, an' 't was meself put the bag intil the bottom of the trash-box for safe keepin's whilst I was makin' up me bed, and niver another thought of it till this blissed hour, if I was to die for sayin' it! An' lucky it was too, for who knows what might have happened, if Tommy John had n't 'a' tuk it." There was a silence, deep and considerate. Johanna was a good girl, but nobody had ever said that she had a strong mind. "Ladies and gentlemen!" cried the Dusenberry boy, wrinkling up his eyes, "our congratulations to Johanna, and our apologies to the cook and the laundress! They were neither too thin nor too fat. They were innocent and they were honest, though, as Johanna justly says, there's no knowing what might have happened, if Tommy John had n't 'a' tuk it! I now propose that we go on with the sale, and use the proceeds for a suitable celebration of this happy occasion, and-ahem! - of the Battle of Bosworth Field!" What a boy he was! He had caught sight, in that instant, of the two Roses, standing with arms entwined, in the doorway. Those who remembered their English History understood what he meant, and even those who did n't could see plainly enough that the Wars of the Roses were at an end. They were both Red Roses just then, as Bab and Bell and Alec and the rest came wondering up. his voice and led the laughing chorus in a new and felicitous version of the old refrain: "O seek no more to bind a bond Tommy John, the recipient of a bewildering mixture of scolding and petting which might have turned a wiser head than his, felt a vague but uplifting sense of having somehow achieved remarkable things; and perhaps it was really he, who, humanly speaking, was responsible "But what if it had been the cook!" cried for the Peace of the Roses. Bab. "Or the laundress !" cried Bell. The Roses looked at each other and smiled serenely; and the Dusenberry boy lifted up But without, in the darkness, the storm being over, the mountain swept the last cloud from its majestic forehead, and adorned itself, triumphant, with a great crown of stars. |