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Updated: June 12, 2025
Everidge the next day at dinner, as he selected the choicest portions of a fine roast duck for his own consumption, "during the period of their nation's highest civilization, subsisted almost exclusively upon millet, dates and other fruits and cereals; and athletic Greece rose to her greatest culture upon two meals a day, consisting principally of maize and vegetables steeped in oil.
"No, you wouldn't dear, not if you were Penelope." "But, Aunt Marthe, how does she stand it? Why, it would drive me crazy in a week! To think of that poor soul, working like a slave all day, and then grudged the few winks of sleep she gets on a hard old sofa. I declare, it makes me feel hopeless!" "The day I climbed Mont Blanc," said Mrs. Everidge softly, "we had a wonderful experience.
You know she promised her mother she would never leave him." "In that event, my dear, you will have an opportunity to become more intimately acquainted with the mysteries of the culinary art," observed Mr. Everidge cheerfully. "It will be a splendid chance to evolve that finest of character combinations, Spartan endurance coupled with American progressiveness." Mrs. Everidge smiled.
"Aunt Marthe, what is culture?" she asked suddenly, as later in the afternoon Mrs. Everidge sat beside her hammock. "Is Louis right? Is it just the veneer of education and travel and environment?" "You can hardly call that a veneer, little one. Real education goes very deep.
"I am not aware that Socrates thought it necessary to acquaint the worthy Xantippe with the reasons for his conduct," remarked Mr. Everidge suavely. "The feminine mind is too much disposed to jump to hasty conclusions to prove of any assistance in deciding matters of importance.
"Oh, Aunt Marthe!" cried Evadne, as she drove slowly under the trees, "shall I ever, ever learn to be like you?" She found the old lady sitting by the fire wrapped up in a shawl, although the day was sultry. "Good-morning," said Evadne, as she deposited her parcels on the table. "I come from Mrs. Everidge. She thought you would fancy some of her fresh brown bread and currant jelly."
Everidge spoke the last words softly and Evadne, looking at her uplifted face, shining now with the radiance which always filled it when she spoke of her Lord, saw again that glowing face which she had watched across the gate at Hollywood and heard the strange, exultant tones, 'He is my King! Ah, that was beautiful! That was what Aunt Marthe meant, and Pompey and Dyce.
Pauline lifted Polly from her uncomfortable position with a warm glow about her heart, which all the sick woman's bitterness was powerless to quench. If she could see Richard Everidge, she would tell him that she did believe in altitudes now. It was possible even in the valleys to live above the clouds.
Always brightness and fun and laughter, for Aunt Rutha's hospitable house was a favourite resort with many of the Harvard students, and it was the glorious summer time, when all the world their little world was free to be gay. She, Pauline Harding, was like other girls at last! Then she must learn to row and to ride, with Richard Everidge for her teacher.
"And now, oh, Aunt Marthe, life is so desperately lonely!" she said at last with a sobbing sigh. Mrs. Everidge leaned over and kissed the trembling lips. "I think sometimes the earthly fatherhood is taken from us, dear child, that we may learn to know the beautiful Fatherliness of God. We can never find true happiness until our restless hearts are folded close in the hush of his love.
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