 A Real New England Girl by Anna I. Parsons 1. The Shower 2. Oxford County 3. The Stranger and the Girl 4. The Youth and the Girl 5. Pansy and Richard Go Trading 6. The Marvelous Storyteller 7. The Dinner 8. The The Minister Comes for Tea 9. Pansy's Father 10. Pansy and Her Mother 11. Poland Springs 12. The Birthday Cake 13. Ned Patterson Comes for a Visit 14. The Blue Berrying Party 15. The Beginning of Wisdom 16. The Tempted and the Penitent 17. The Concert 18. Stanley's Ride 19. The Bench by the Wayside 20. The Banker and the Widow 21. The Bag of Nuts 22. How They Kept Thanksgiving at Little Farm 23. Hardly a Merry Christimas 24. A Call Down and a Caller 25. The Pride of Mrs. Bradford 26. A Happy New Year 27. Amusement and Winter Sport 28. Kim 29. Richard, the Lion Hearted 30. A Tour of the White Mountains 31. Talking Over the Trip with Henry Bright 32. Thoughts That Lie Too Deep for Words 33. Economics 34. His Toast 35. The Busy Haunts of Man 36. Christmas in New York 37. The Last Night of Their Visit 38. The Language Understood by All 39. Sugaring Off 40. Correspondence 41. Commencement 42. Conclusion Afterward     |
The Banker and the Widow. "Time has laid his hand Upon my heart, gently, not smiting it, But as a harper lays his open palm Upon his harp to deaden its vibration." -- Longfellow August slipped away and September came in with clear, cool weather. Here and there the foliage of a maple had turned to deep red, the golden rod and frost flower blossomed profusely by the roadside, corn was ripe and the full ear ready for plucking. The undulating fields, shorn of their summer crop of hay, were springing up anew with verdure. Everywhere the dark green of the pine mingled with the lighter shades of foliage and turf, and all made up a landscape fair indeed to behold. The Winthrops had postponed their departure on Stanley's account, and he was almost glad to be incapacitated for the sake of spending a few more days in the country. Between eight and nine o'clock one evening, Mr. Winthrop walked through the avenue of maples. He liked to feel the cool night air on his chest and shoulders, to view the fruitful land under the soft light of a summer night, to look into the boundless space above and see the indisputable evidence that a wise creator directed all things and compelled obedience to his laws. The lights of Norway shone in front of him a mile or so away; the lights of Oxford shone back of him more distant still; and to the southeast the Summit Spring Hotel rested on its pinnacle like a pillar of fire. He stopped at the half way tree, examined the new bench, and smiled as he read the dedication thereon. Now and then snatches of a song or a ripple of laughter floated down from the fields above, reminding him so vividly of the lapse of years that he grew reminiscent. Yes, it was true, over a quarter of a century had passed since he lived the life of a farmer's son, and tonight his boy was participating in the same sport that he had often indulged in before disappointment drove him out into the world. At the Bradford home, a lamp in the living room revealed Mrs. Bradford seated by one of the windows, rocking alone and in silence. He gazed long and earnestly at the face he remembered so young and fair and animated, but now in early middle life, index of a record that had mingled sadness with the happy and commonplace things of life. He recalled her girlhood days when surrounded by gay, young brothers she seemed the embodiment of all that was joyous. Now she watched and waited, and one, at least, who had shared her joys and sorrows would never come again. "You gave me more pain once than I ever knew before or since, but if it were in my power to give Richard Bradford back to you I would do so." He had removed his hat, but replaced it and resumed his walk up the hill and over the stretch of level road until he reached the Parish house where he waited. Soon a group of merry makers, led by a country youth with a Jack o'Lantern on his head, came from the corn field where they had been roasting the ripened ears over a huge bed of coals. Stanley was one of the party, and still using his crutch, walked between Ruth Bradford and Mr. Alden. Pansy and Richard were here and there in the group, but when they saw the erect figure of the banker waiting by the roadside, hastened with the others to join him. "Feeling pretty well, Stanley?" asked Mr. Winthrop, his keen eyes resting on his son. "Why, yes sir, and I've had a good time in spite of my lameness. Think I'll be able to discard this crutch in a few days now." Most of the merry makers bade the Bradfords good night in front of the Parish house, but one brawny youth, Leonard Frost by name, voluntarily accompanied them to Little Farm. He stalked along in front of the party and said little, but now and then half turned and looked askance at Stanley whom the Bradfords treated with special consideration because of his infirmity. "Len's going up to Moosehead Lake to be a guide, and wants to get experience," remarked Richard jocosely. " 'Taint no such thing. There's game enough down here that needs looking after without hiking up state." "You'll never get a moose in these parts if you tramp through the woods the whole open season." "I aint a saying that's my ambition, but if you hear my .45 go off you'll known something has stopped breathing." "Sure, Len. Don't point it down our way." Len was the young Samson of the neighborhood, and though his mother's ambition was to have him wise and learned, following woodland paths with rod or gun was more to his taste than developing that portion of his brain known as the cerebrum. Once when hunting near Little Farm, he heard Pansy call the cosset lamb, and imitated its bleating so perfectly, that Pansy was decoyed to the edge of the woods, and when he stepped from his hiding place with a laugh, fled like a frightened fawn to cover. He had always been ready to carry her books, help her into the school team, and perform any feat of daring which he thought would win her notice. With exquisite tact, she evaded most of his attentions, and never gave his advances a second thought. To night she walked with Ruth and Stanley, serenely unconscious of the dissatisfied looks he cast in their direction. At the Bradford home, without a word to the others, he turned and retraced his steps, a disgruntled but determined youth. A day later, early in the afternoon, the Winthrop car stopped at Little Farm and Mr. Winthrop and Stanley stepped out, dressed in immaculate afternoon attire, and walked across the greensward. Ruth responded to their knock and ushered them into the parlor, a room which showed more plainly than anything else the modest circumstances of the family, because their best was there, and their best was oh, so simple. Mrs. Bradford joined them in a few minutes and shook hands quietly with the banker. If meeting him again brought by-gones to mind, she gave no evidence that they were of a disturbing nature, but conversed freely and pleasantly, while he responded in the quick, crisp tones that had become habitual. He was not long in disclosing that his call that a special purpose. Stanley had told him, he said, that Pansy and Richard were very desirous of going to college, and he would consider it a great privilege to provide the necessary funds; in fact, he felt that a much larger debt was owing to them for their great kindness to his son; that with her consent and approval, he would deposit a sufficient sum in the trust company to cover the expenses at any college they might choose. The widow, taken completely by surprise, looked away through the window to the willow tree where Pansy and Richard so often perused their books. That this opportunity would fill their hearts with gladness weighed heavily in the balance. Her eyes returned to the room again and rested on the portrait of her husband, the manly Richard Bradford. The balances poised for an instant and then dropped on the other side. In a low, firm voice she answered, "I cannot accept your offer, though I very much appreciate your kindness in making it." There was not much more to say, and Mr. Winthrop and Stanley took their departure, but were hardly seated in the car, when Pansy appeared hurrying down the road. "I had to go to the Parish's, and so I'm so sorry I missed your call. I suppose there won't be another one in a very long time." "We leave tomorrow, Pansy," said Stanley, "but mother has promised to come for a house party during the Christmas holidays, so we'll see you again in about four months." "If it weren't for going to school, Richard and I would be very lonesome without you. We've never had a friend like you before." "I'm greatly indebted to you for a most happy summer, and shall always think of you all as my best friends." "You and Richard are to have the use of the books in my library, and if any book you want is not there, you must let me know." Mr. Winthrop reached out and shook the little, brown hand, and the car moved on. When Pansy learned from Ruth of the offer Mr. Winthrop had made to pay the expenses of herself and Richard through college and of her mother's refusal to accept it, she was very quiet for a time, then slipped out of the house and sought Richard in the cornfield. "I bring good and bad news," she said, and seating herself on a rock by the stone wall, she told him all that had transpired. "We could pay him back if mother would only accept the money as a loan, but she says she wouldn't even do that." Much wrought up at the loss of an opportunity that seemed so golden, she seized her brother's arm impulsively and gave vent to her feelings: "O, Richard, I shall never be happy if you can't go to Orono and learn how to farm scientifically, and if I can't have something more than a high school education." The tears rolled down her cheeks, and she dropped her head into her lap, while her brother waited, almost in tears himself at her distress. After a time she grew quiet, and insisted on helping him pick corn so that her mother would not know of her disappointment. "Sometimes I forget, Richard, there's such a thing as foreordination. If a thing is to be ours, it will be ours and no power on earth can stop our getting it. If it is not to be ours, wishing and fretting won't bring it. I'm a backslider, but hereafter I'm going to be a real slider up to first base, and I'm going to hold it, too. Now, bring another basked and let's fill it before Uncle Will gets the other emptied into the cart." Click Here for Chapter 21 |