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Jests were bandied about her high spirits and Doctor Friedrich remarked that she must surely be going to some rendezvous at Vienna. "I should like to put a stop to that, though!" exclaimed Richard, so angrily that the hilarity became general. Only Elly remained serious, and gazed at her aunt in downright astonishment.
She gave a scream, picked it up and held it in her cupped hands, her little face drawn in horrified incredulity. She looked up at her mother and said in a whisper, "Mother, he's dead." Marise nodded silently. Poor Elly! She wished she could think of something comforting to say. But what is there to say? For her there had never been anything but stoic silence.
She envied Frau Martin because of the tender affection of her husband; the tobacconist's wife because she was loved by Herr Klingemann and the captain; her sister-in-law, because she was already old; Elly, because she was still young; she envied the servant, who was sitting on a plank over there with a soldier, and whom she heard laughing.
Even then she could not stop talking. Her excited little voice followed Miss Theodosia home. "He took us! He's blue-printing us to see if we wiggled. Elly Precious did mercy gracious! But maybe one of him, just one, didn't. He's goin' to make reg'lar black an' white pictures of the unwiggled ones. I guess you'll be surprised when you see us!" She was surprised.
"What is the matter?" "Oh, dearie me; Miss Elly, Miss Elly!" exclaimed old Hetty; with a fresh burst of tears. "Tell us Hetty Mammy what has happened?" said Miss Wyllys, as she approached. "Oh, Miss Aggess, Miss Aggess dreadful news!" said the old negro woman, burying her face in her apron. "My father?" asked Miss Agnes, faintly, and trembling with alarm.
It was with an effort that she brought her attention back to Elly, who had come in behind her and was saying something urgently. Marise turned around on the piano-stool, her head humming with the unfamiliar, tantalizing beauties and intricacies of the page she had left half unread, and considered the little girl for an instant before she heard what she said. How Elly did grow!
Elly pulled her along rapidly to the chicken-yard where grossly self-satisfied hens scratched in trash and filth undiscriminatingly, and complacently called their families to share what they had found there, or indeed at times apparently to admire them for having found nothing. Marise stood regarding them with a composed, ironic eye.
Elly and Paul sprang forward to join their little brother. "What in the world are we going to see?" asked Marsh. "You forget you haven't given us the least idea." "You are going to see," Marise set herself to amuse them, "you're going to see a rite of the worship of beauty which Ashley, Vermont, has created out of its own inner consciousness."
Elly's hand was hot and clasped her mother's very tightly. Marise bent over the little girl and divined in the darkness that she was crying. "Why, Elly darling, what's the matter?" she asked. The child cried out passionately, on a mounting note, "Nothing, nothing! Nothing!" She flung her arms around her mother's neck, straining her close in a wild embrace.
"When's he going to get through his business, up there?" "Before long, I guess. Mother said maybe he'd be back here next month." Elly was aware that she was again not being talkative. She tried to think of something to add. "I'm very much obliged for these cookies," she said. "They are awfully good." "They're the kind your mother always liked, when she was your age," said Aunt Hetty casually.
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