Hearts and Hollyhocks

Jearts andfjolfyhocks c/7 Story of Love, Struggle and Society JluthMoenchBeJt Chapter III "There ne'er was a gallant like Young Lochinvar!" Edna laughed happily as she cuddled up to John in the little car he had hired to escape the mob. It was thrilling to be spirited away in so romantic a fashion. It was the pinnacle of a maid's ambition to be wed' to one who could so cleverly make his es- cape from the showers of rice and old shoes, that Phil, with all his wealth, had been forced t o take. A woman Ion es a big man, a strong man, a masterly man. Edna knew that John was all these as she felt the joy of adventure with her hero. "Where are you taking me to, Young Lochinvar?" she demanded, glorying in the fact that she was almost lost to view beside his broad shoulders. "I'm going to take you to a spot where no best man or other admiring swain can have another glimpse of you for two weeks." Even a Ford sedan runabout can be steered with one hand. John used the other arm to draw Edna to him. "I'm starved for you. I'm almost jealous. The way some of those fellows were adoring you was more than I could en- dure." "They weren't looking at me at all," Edna maintained. "Every woman and girl in the crowd was admiring you and en- vying me." "What about Phil and Judith?" "Didn't they look splendid? It was certainly a wedding to remember." "It was, little woman, and I'm glad you had it. I'm glad you had the center of the stage with your girlhood friend. I'm glad of the bridal finery, the veil, the bridesmaids, the flower girls and all th,e beautiful setting for two lonely flowers." "Why are you saying it sadly?" "I remember my baby sister trailing a table cloth about the house. It was wound about her head like a turban and swept after her for several yards. She was getting the sensation of being a bride. So I'm glad you have had it all." "\ou are making me anxious," Edna pouted prettily, "That's the way father always led up to something disagreeable." "Oh, darling, I hope it won't be disagreeable," John wavered

HEARTS AND HOLLYHOCKS 129 and incidentally nearly ran the car into a tree. "But you are right. I am leading up to something with clumsy masculine tact. I was trying to tell you that I was glad you had realized your dream, and hoping you would enjoy mine for we are al- most at our destination." John glanced covertly at Edna's face. Was it disappoint- ment or dismay or only suspended judgment he read there? "Then we are not going on any train?" Edna asked nerv- ously. They were drawing near the outskirts of town, a region Edna scarcely knew. "Where are you taking me?" "To a little hut among the hollyhocks," John breathed as he stopped the car before a small adobe cottage almost hidden by hollyhocks and climbing roses. It was an alluring spot, but Edna bit her lip in vexation. The shock was too great. So this was where they were to spend their honeymoon. When Judith told of the beauties of Florida, she would have to remain silent or — really, it was too stupid oi John. "Just for tonight," Edna demurred. "Then off on a journey tomorrow?" "Only in fancy, dear," John pleaded. "Don't you love me enough to be happy with me here?" "I could be happy with you anywhere," Edna recovered herself. "Only this was so unexpected." "Now, I'm just going to take you to the door, dear," John kissed her gratefully. "Then I'll leave you to rove about and dream while I take the little car back. It was only borrowed, you know. Then I'll walk back, thinking every step of the way that my dream has come true. My dream that a lovely little woman loves me and is waiting for me in a 'hut half hidden among roses, herself the fairest rose of all." "John I'd love you better than any other man on earth if this were alii the worldly wealth we should, ever possess. If you were poor or — or — why, I'd be prouder of you en en if I had to go through poverty of the very poorest kind. I'd even share dis- grace with you rather than be the wife of the richest, most hon- ored man on earth." John drew her to him tenderly. "I don't imagine I'll ask you to share very dire poverty, little woman, certainly not disgrace. I'm not contemplating any desperately criminal acts. But it's going to be rather hard to play up to Phil and Judith. He'll have a car. We'll walk." "Splendid exercise," Edna laughed. "Just so we walk to- gether." "That's what I was trying to get at the other night," John agreed, and that's the thought I'll leave you with. And I'll be back as quickly as possible."

130 IMPROVEMENT ERA Edna stood watching his car out of sight while a thousand memories were assailing her. "What is it?" she finally asked herself. "Why it is this old- fashioned garden! It is just like grandma's. There are the very hurdock leaves I used to fashion into hats. And here are the hollyhocks to trim them with. And there are larkspur and mari- golds and candytuft." Fully an hour later John came upon her unexpectedly. She was surrounded by the works of her hands: the most be- witching doll parasols, exquisit creations of Paris hats, ballet dancers, adorable elderly ladies and a perfect colony of dolls, all fashioned from satiny hollyhocks, burdock leaves and old fashioned flowers. "Why, this is paradise," Edna exclaimed, dropping her fascinating treasures to run to John. "This is grandma's gar- den all over again. I used to think it was heaven and fairyland all rolled into one. And I'm starving to death and just found it out." "So am I. Let's see what we can find." They opened the back door and there as cozy as could be was the kitchen table set out with an old fashioned supper, bowls of creamy milk, a plate of brown bread, sliced so daintily, honey in the comb. It was all so homey and inviting, the spot- less kitchen, the snowy cloth, the informal meal. Th^ey were at home at once. "How could paradise be so close to town," Edna laughed after she had eaten her capacity of brown bread and milk, and, armed with a plate of cookies and a plate of apples, was making for the next room. "I know there is another room and a fire-place where we can munch cookies and apples before the blaze. But who owns it all and how did you come to find it?" "You are right," John exclaimed opening the door before he answered all the questions. "Here is the fire-place and the fire all laid." He struck a blaze and placing the apples and cookies on a small table, evidently for the very purpose, he brought up the big chair and drew Edna into it while he perched on the arm. "It belongs to a beautiful woman, whose soul time has not tarnished. She goes up town to work but lives here with her flowers and her memories; and a more serene countenance, a heart more brimming with good-will I have never encountered. I have admired the place so often she invited us to spend our honeymoon here while she was away on a visit." "Two could sit comfortably in this great chair," Edna invited, making room beside herself. "I want to dream on your shoulder before this grate fire. A person could live a thousand

HEARTS AND HOLLYHOCKS 131 years in a quiet nook like this. It is so much like grandma's home. It seems so strange now as I look back on it. There were always aunts and uncles and grandchildren visiting her, several families at one time. I never remember less than three families at any time. And yet I never heard a quarrel, a cross word, a sarcastic criticism. I never thought of it till now. And I never heard an unpleasant word between grandpa and grandma in my life. I don't remember seeing a frown or ugly glance. No one was ever in a hurry or worried. I can see the table set and the children, aunts, uncles and grandpa and grandma around it. That table reached from one end of the long room, which was kitchen and dinning room, clear to the other. I wonder why we were so quiet and well-behaved! Was it grandpa's sweet in- fluence? I know it was not because we were afraid of him or grandma. Then the evenings after supper. We played so quietly, while grandpa read his paper and grandma sat knitting. I remember hearing the old clock tick. We all listened for the hour of nine. That was the signal for grandpa to fold his paper and lay it on the table, take off his glasses, and turn his chair towards the center of the room. Each one found a chair and turned it in a circle or knelt with someone while grandpa prayed. He was a lengthy petitioner, when it came to prayers. And many a time we just had to snicker oner some absurd thought that popped into our heads while the prayer lasted And oh, how our kness ached before he got through. Then everyone went to bed. But why was everything so quiet and peaceful there? We children were noisy enough at home. With all these families under one roof, why was there no discord, no quarreling or fault-finding?" "Maybe it was the atmosphere of the place," John ven- tured under the spell of Edna's words, and wondering himself at her narrative. "Maybe you explained it all when you said no one was ever in a hurry, no> one ever worried." "Or, if they did thev left their worries at the gate," Edna smiled. "I know we aty had the greatest reverence for grandpa, with his snowy beard, his kindly voice. He said so little. We children always knew when he was concerned about anything. He put his hands behind him and walked way up to the back of the lot where he could be alone to think. And no one ever disturbed him. When he returned, we could see bv his clear brows that he had solved his problem or subdued his sorrow, or calmed his anger. He was the sam? serene soul that said so little but was always kind and loving." "That is what I should like to be, young or old," John ex- claimed. "And you have described the kind of home I have al- ways wished for, a place of peace."

132 IMPROVEMENT ERA "At home, we were hurrying to go somewhere, or worrying about expenses, or hoping for something new, and straining to pay for it. Furniture, clothes, dishes, carpets or something else, was always in demand and always crying out to be paid for." "It is a terrible strain to be forever standing on tiptoe straining to reach a mark just beyond our grasp," John agreed, "and that is what makes our modern lives so trying on our soul strength. 'We hio\ e traveled far from leisurely; lane','' he quoted. "And that reminds me," Edna cried, "is Tennyson in the bookcase? I thought of something this morning that I wanted to look over again." "I know what it is," John exclaimed with almost uncanny insight. "I thought of the same thing when I saw you in the iiltar room. It is what the prince says about his mother." "Yes in 'The Princess,' how could you have known?" "Suggestion. When hearts are in tune, they receive thought messages just as easily as spoken messages. When mother was living, I never thought of a song, when we were in a room to- gether that she didn't begin singing it. And if she thought of one I was whistling it right away." "I hope we can always be in tune with each other, like that," Edna sighed. "And both together in tune with God," John added, kissing her tenderly. "Here is the message you wished. I memorized it years ago, after mother died: "Not learned, save in gracious household ways, No angeL but a dearer being, all dipt In angel instincts, breathing paradise, Interpreter between the gods and men. * * * "Happy he with such a mother! faith in womankind Beat with his blood, and trust in all things high Comes easy to him, and though he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay." And so the evening passed and th,e other evenings, too. They found an old guitar. John knew a few chords, so they sang old songs together, or read, or dreamed by the fire-place, or walked in the moonlight. Fishing in the river that flowed by one side of the lot, work in the little garden, housework and visiting with each other, took up their days. And soon the two weeks were over. "It has been so perfect, I dread the change," Edna sighed as they sat by the fire for the last evening. "It is one dream that came true," John added.

HEARTS AND HOLLYHOCKS 133 Yet neither realized that the memory of those beautiful hours together, would bless and torture them in the years that were to come. Neither realized that unseen forces were even then upon their threshold, forces that would inevitably change the set of their sails. "Didn't you say that Judith and Phil were to come in and sp,3nd this last evening with us?" Edna asked. "Yes, I told Phil, where we were to be. They were to drop in on us on their way from the train before anyone expected them homie." "That sounds like them, now," Edna exclaimed as a car was heard to stop at the gate. Chapter IV "It's our last evening in this dear, little home. I wish we might stay here always," Edna sighed. John leaned over and clasped her in his arms. "It's worse than that, dearest, it's our last minute. Judith is at the door right now." There was an impetuous ring at the old fashioned bell, then Judith tried the knob. She was in the room in a minute in a blaze of wrath. Phil followed right after, anxious to explain and make up. But Judith sprang away from him. "Why, Judith," Edna cried in dismay, clasping Judith's storm-shaken body in her arms. "Whatever has happened?" "It's Phil! and I just hate him! I never will make up with him!" Judith sobbed passionately. "She's just tired," Phil apologized. "We've had a deuce of a time. There was a wreck just ahead of us And there we were side-tracked without a diner for about twenty-four hours. Judy and I finally got out and walked into a miserable, little, one-house town. But we hired a man to bring out his Tin Lizzie and get us to a real town. There we sat in a cold sta- tion, half-starved for hours — " "Oh, for pity's sake, don't make me live it all over again!" Judith exclaimed. "It was bad enough to go over it once." Edna took command of the situation at once. "You sit right here in this easy) chair, Judie. Phil, stir up the fire. And John, you can take her hat and gloves and then come and help me get something warm for her. She's just tired and hungry and sleepy and everything else that's miserable." The men did as th,ey were bidden and in a few minutes John wheeled the little table, on which he and Edna had enjoyed so many cozy, fireside meals, close to the fire-place. "Oh, this

134 IMPROVEMENT ERA tastes so good," Judith .exclaimed ravenously. "I'm nearly starved to death. Wherever did you find this cozy nest? I didn't know you could cook, Edna." "I can't," Edna laughed. "Any dining-car chef could make my simple attemps look silly, indeed." "Don't say dining-car chef," Phil begged. "The things they served us in the name of food and the prices we paid and the tips we gave!" " 'When I was at home I was in a better place'," John quoted in imitation of Touchstone. " 'But travelers must be con- tent'." "Never again for me," Judith groaned. "You'll forget all about it by morning," John predicted, "and be telling everyone that will listen how wonderful Florida is. Why, a month from now you'd undertake a trip to the moon, if there was a chance, and Edna would be ready to go with you." "Florida is lovely," Judith cried, "and, oh, those southern roses." "Not half so fragrant as the honeysuckle all over this old porch, and not half so pretty as the hollyhocks and marigolds rnd batchelor buttons — " "And the burdock leaves — " John interrupted Edna teas- ingly. He psver could get over the array of Paris hats she had fashioned from them that first night in the over-grown garden. "You two seem frightfully happy," Judith sighed enviously as she noted the tender intimacy between th,em, at the same time casting about for some way to slip her hand unobtrusively into Phil's by way of an attempt at making up. John and Edna, noting her, contrived to gaze studiously into the fire, and soon both couples were building castles in the flames and embers. "You are going to stay with us, you know," Edna urged when they finally spoke of going home. "There is a spare bed- room all ready for you. It is the last of our vacation and honey- moon, and we ought to spend it together." "We'll have to go home," Judith spoke with reluctance. "Our families will be expecting us. But I'd like to dream here forever. Traveling is interesting;, but it can get on one's nerves when everything goes frightfully wrong." This was recognized as Judith's apolosry for her little out- burst against Phil when she first arrived. Phil patted her hand affectionately to show he understood and cherished no resent- ment. "Well, we couldn't afford a real trip, so we came here to 'The Forest of Arden,' as Edna calls it, and dreamed all kinds

HEARTS AND HOLLYHOCKS 135 of adventure, not one of which could be so wonderful as to lhe here all the time." "It would be lonely for Edna while you were gone all day," Judith demurred. "And then it would be awkward for you to have to walk so far after work." "Walking is good exercise," John maintained. "But I hadn't thought it might be lonsly for Edna here all day." He spoke like a school boy whose pet bubble has burst just when he had hoped it might last forever. "It is surely cozy here," Phil agreed, "but there is no use turning hermit yet awhile." Here Judith and Phil exchanged meaningful glances and a minute later there was the sound of a car stopping and a medley of voices and laughter coming up the graveled walk. There was a chorus of oh's and ah's! when the door opened and the parents of all but John stood on the threshold. "We tracked you young scallywags," Phil's father laughed. "How did you come to think of this place to hide a honeymoon in "It was entirely John's idea," Edna smiled proudly. "Yes, and he wants to hide Edna here for the rest of her life," Phil joked. "Nonsense," Phil's father exploded, "we'll soon put a stop to all that. Get on your toggery all of you. We're going to kidnap you and take you all back to civilization." "All except Edna and her captor," John declared. "We must finish our honeymoon here. Unless she'd rather go." "I couldn't go yet," Edna agreed. "It's going to be hard enough in the morning, even. We've been so happy here. I almost dread to change. " She spoke so sincerely and with such evident regret at the thought of leaving, that after a few protests, the group went merrily away. "This may change your minds somewhat," Phil's father smiled as he placed a sealed envelope in John's hands and hurried away. "And this may change Edna's notions," her father cried, affectionately pressing a similar envelope into her hand. "Now, don't open them till we are out of sight," he commanded. "And remember John's letter is to be opened first." "What do you suppose it is?" Edna wondered, when the sound of the cars was no longer audible. "Something good, of course," John hazarded. "Phil's father never does anything else. And yet somehow I dread to open it. I'm superstitious I suppose. These two weeks have been so perfect, I know they can't last forever. And I know nothing else

136 IMPROVEMENT ERA could ever be better. I feel like Adam and Eve must have felt when they turned their backs on Paradise." "Silly boy," Edna laughed happily. "We'll take our Para- dise right along with us. Now open the letter." After John had opened it, he stood silent so long that Edna came and peeped over his shoulder. "It's just what I feared," he said thoughtfully. "Feared," Edna almost shrieked for joy. 'O, goody, goody, goody! Why can't you read, you foolish? Oh, hurrah! hur- rah! They've given us the lot next to Phil's and Judith's. It's right where they are going to build. Judie and I will be side by side again. We won't even have a fence between. It will be just as Judie and I have always been. Oh, isn't h,e the grandest man on earth, Phil's father? He must love you as if you were his son. I suppose he knows how Judith and I have always been. Oh, aren't you glad, darling?" "You don't realize, sweetheart," John explained seriously. "There is the lot right enough, but how can pennyless John build a house on it?" "Couldn't we mortgage the lot for enough to build the house?" "We might get one third of th,e amount necessary, that way." "Well, couldn't we build just a small house at first?" "How would you feel in a small house while Judith was next door in a large one?" "Oh, I shouldn't mind it at first." "But that is the residence! part of town. Every house along the street is handsome and pretentious. I hoped we might stav here or in some modest neighborhood where we would not have to be in competition always with those whose fortunes are made. Then we could save and build when we could afford to and as we could afford to build, instead of being forced into some- thing beyond our means." "But we can't refuse," Edna cried in dismay. "Why, we haven't opened father's letter yet." John looked on while Edna hurriedly tore open the en- velop. Then she suddenly flung the letter into the air and caught John about the neck. "Oh, you darling. It is solved. The whole thing is solved. Isn't he the dandiest daddy?" "He is going to put up for us to build with?" John asked with- out enthusiasm,. "However could you guess? No, it isn't that. Poor daddy couldn't do that. He will go on our notes though, and help us to get the money so we can build right while we are about it. Why, you don't seem a bit relieved, John I think you are dreadfully ungrateful."

HEARTS AND HOLLYHOCKS 137 "It isn't that, sweetheart. It's only — oh, well, I guess it will come out all right. After all it's the set of the sail, and not the gale that determines the way we go!'" Edna went to sleep that night to dream happily of a beau- tiful modern home of her own. John was at her side, and Judith was just across the yard. John, however, tossed wakefully. "I suppose it is wicked and stupid and ungrateful of me," he thought to himself. "But I don't want a home on another man's bounty. And I know that notes have a way of falling due just whether one is ready to meet them or not. And usually one is no more ready to meet them when they fall due than he was when he made them out. But that is not the worst feature of this. It is that living up to Judith and Phil eternally, whether we can or not. It is the one fear I have about our marriage." Towards morning John dozed off to dream ridiculously of sheriff's scales, bridge luncheons, sedan cars and> — well, he wouldn't even name the other picture that came. But as this latter figment of a troubled brain flitted before the vision of his unconsciousness, he woke with a start and a yawn of grateful return to consciousness. "Whatever happens; it is Edna's happiness, not my notions, that must be considered," he decided. "I must make the little girl happy. And her heart seems set on this. Come on, little worr»an," he called gaily, as Edna opened her eyes. "We've got to get back to realities and plunge into life in earnest." (To be continued) In the Beautiful Valley of Life I was weary and worn with much care. Great sorrow and grief I had known ; The hour seemed as one of despair Whence joy, like a fleet hird, had flown. Yet e'en down by the valley of death I found that my Savior seemed near, To whisper of comfort and faith, Saying this — "You have nothing to fear." 0 blessed Redeemer of mine, If the valley of death be so sweet, Then what of the valley of life, With a harvest of glory replete? 0 ye who now strive for that goal, Take courage, the victory is near; Remember His dear, precious words, And you will have "Nothing to fear." Berkeley, California Annie G. LaurUzen