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Elmhurst, this Washington estate was called, and it was well known there, with its straight road approaching and its great trees and its wide-doored halls whereby the road itself seemed to run straight through the house and appear beyond and its tall white pillars and hospitable galleries, now in the springtime enclosed in green.
"I'm wondering that myself," said the little man, meekly. "Ah! You can stay here," said the boy, suddenly arousing from his apathy. "No," replied Uncle John, "the Merricks are out of Elmhurst now, and it returns to its rightful owners. You owe me nothing, my lad." "But I like you," said Kenneth, "and you're old and homeless. Stay at Elmhurst, and you shall always be welcome."
At this time Mr. Watson rendered his accounts and turned over the estate to its owner. He would then have retired, but Kenneth would not let him go. Twenty-one years of age sounds mature, but the owner of Elmhurst was as boyish and inexperienced as it is possible for one twenty-one years old to be. He had grown accustomed, moreover, to depend much on Mr.
"Surely, two girls will have a better time in this lonely old place than one could have alone. For my part, I am delighted to find you at Elmhurst." "Thank you," said Beth. "That's a nice thing to say, but I doubt if it's true. Don't let's beat around the bush. I hate hypocrisy, and if we're going to be friends let's be honest with one another from the start."
"You know, Ken," she reminded him, "that whatever happens we are always to remain friends." "Of course," replied the boy, briefly. The girl had thrown aside her crutches, by this time, and planned to return to her work immediately after the funeral. The brief services at the cemetery being concluded, the little cavalcade returned to Elmhurst, where luncheon was awaiting them. Then Mr.
This reckless life was greatly to his liking; I saw him occasionally by appointment, usually at Elmhurst, and became aware that his old quarrel with Captain Grant was seemingly forgotten. There appeared to be some understanding, some special connection between them. They met once, at least, and I delivered one note between them."
"James has been neglecting his work, lately," she said, sharply, to her attendant. "He's very queer, ma'am," replied old Martha, "ever since the young ladies an' Master John came to Elmhurst. Strangers he never could abide, as you know, and he runs and hides himself as soon as he sees any of 'em about." "Poor James!" said Miss Merrick, recalling her old gardener's infirmity.
And then he began to discuss political questions in general and his own merits in particular, so that Kenneth and Mr. Watson, disgusted at the way in which the Honorable Erastus had captured the meeting, left the school-house and indignantly returned to Elmhurst. "This man Hopkins," said Mr. Watson, angrily, "is not a gentleman. He's an impertinent meddler."
What at first seemed a mere matter of "borrowing" until she could work one more little week to pay it back, had suddenly become a crime impossible to atone. Desperately she tramped through the long country roads, tugging her bag, using it often as a stool to rest on. No one noticed the girl maids often left employment in Elmhurst and journeyed out to the trolley line just as she was doing.
Finally he remarked: "Ef ye buy up the sign painters, so's ye can wash off the letters, like enough ye'll hev to pay him fer th' paint an' paintin', too." "I don't mind," was the response. The farmer chuckled. Here was an interesting adventure, for a fact. What on earth could possess the "young 'un" from Elmhurst to object to signs, and be willing to pay for having them erased?
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