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She cleared her throat with difficulty once or twice, during his description of his ministering night with Aunt Clara.
Several gentlemen were staying in the house, and there was to be a dinner party on the day when he was expected, so that she thought the best chance of seeing him would be to stay in the garden with Gerald, while the others took their walk, so that she might be at hand on his arrival. Clara, though by no means wanted, chose to stay also, and the two girls walked up and down the terrace together.
Patience observed it, and after a time said "You will be able to watch over your sisters, Mr. Armitage, as well here, almost, as if you were at the cottage. You do not return till to-morrow? How did you come over?" "I rode the pony Billy, Mistress Patience." "Why do you call her Mistress Patience, Edward?" said Clara. "You call me Clara; why not call her Patience?"
If we should now go into the home of Maria Clara, a beautiful nest set among trees of orange and ilang-ilang, we should surprise the two young people at a window overlooking the lake, shadowed by flowers and climbing vines which exhaled a delicate perfume. Their lips murmured words softer than the rustling of the leaves and sweeter than the aromatic odors that floated through the garden.
For every suspected woman slacker there were ten known men slackers yea, ten times ten and ten to carry. Each day, during that war, the story of Mary Magdalene redeemed was somewhere lived over again. Every great crisis in the war-torn lands produced its Joan of Arc, its Florence Nightingale, its Clara Barton.
He understood how men have gone mad under pressure of household cares; he realised the horrible temptation which has made men turn dastardly from the path leading homeward and leave those there to shift for themselves. When on the point of lowering the lamp he heard someone coming downstairs. The door opened, and, to his surprise, Clara came in.
Italian cypresses are hard to transplant, particularly if their feet have become accustomed to the peaceful conditions of Santa Clara Valley cemeteries, where most of them, I understand, enjoyed an undisturbed existence until they were used so very effectively in the Exposition.
"I never heard of any one doing such a thing before! In a cupboard meant for clothes, Adelaide, what do I see at the bottom but a heap of rolls! Will you believe it, Clara, bread in a wardrobe! a whole pile of bread! Tinette," she called to that young woman, who was in the dining-room, "go upstairs and take away all those rolls out of Adelaide's cupboard and the old straw hat on the table."
I arose, and with delightful unanimity the chair arose also, clinging like a passionate porusplaster to my pantaloons. "Mercy'" exclaimed Clara J., "that little villain, Tacks, has been making molasses candy!" "It strikes me," I said, trying hard to be calm, "that after making the candy he decided to make a monkey of me. Darn the blame thing, it won't let go!
And she was not a girl to be satisfied with a big house and a high-nosed husband. There was a rapid alteration of the sad history of Clara the unloved matron solaced by two little ones. A childless Clara tragically loving and beloved flashed across the dark glass of the future. Either way her fate was cruel.
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