II HAPPY HOUSE II
By Jane D. Abbott I
COPYRIGHT. 1920. BY J. B. IJPPLNCOTT COMPANY
lint Miss Sabrina's long face
grow longer. She shook her head
disapprovingly. “We vc never
t.ailed Anr.e Leavitts anything
but Anne since the first one and
I guess in every generation
there’s been one Anne Leavitt!
My mother gave the name to an
older sister who died when she
was a baby. My own name is
Sabrina Ance. Eat thc’strawber
rics! Jonathan says they’re the
last from the garden.”
Rebuked Nancy bent her head
over the fruit. “I am ashamed to
know so little—of my family 1
You will forgive me, won’t you,
- when 1 seem ignorant? I do
want to learn.” And she said this
with all her heart, for unless she
could either get Aunt Sabrina
quickly away from the beloved
subject of family or learn some
thing about them, she was sure, to
make some dreadful blunder.
Making little patterns on the
tablecloth with the end of one
thin finger, Miss Sabrina cleared
her throat twice, as though she
wanted to say something and
found it. difficult to speak. Her
eves, as she levelled them upon
Nancy, turned steely gray with
cold little glints in their depths.
1 “As '[ wrote to you, T believe,
1 struggled—for a long time —
with my conscience before T took
the unwarranted step of inviting
you to Happy House. Now 1
must make one command. Never,
\vhile you are here, are you to
mention the name of your father
or grandfather—and A likewise
will refrain from so doing!” She
stood tip stiffly as she finished
her singular words.
Nancy had lifted a round
strawberry to her lips. She was
so startled that the hand that,
guided it dropped suddenly and
the berry rolled over the cloth,
leaving a tiny red trail across the
white surface.
Was there ever anything in
the world as strange as this?
Why shouldn’t she mention
Anne’s father or her grandfath
er? To he sure, as all she knew
about them was the little Anne
had told her during the last, two
weeks, she was not likely to
to nay much about them -
nevertheless she was immense
ly curious. Why should Miss
Sabrina make such a singular
command and why should she he
so agitated?
Nancy knew she wuni say
something in reply. 111—I’ll he
glad to do just—what you want
me to do!” she stammered. ”1
just, want to—make you like me
—if l can.”
\r...i 1.1 •. i_i.i.i
bo sincerely thut it won a smile
from Miss Sabrina. Nancy did
not. know, of course, that the old
woman had'been trying hungrily
to find something in Nancy’s
face that was “like a Leavitt!’’
And as Nancy had spoken she
had suddenly sccn.au expression
cross the voting face that, she to
herself, was “all Leavitt!" So
her voice was more kindly and
she laid an affectionate hand
upon the girl’s shoulder.
“1 am sure t shall grow very
fond of you, my dear. Now 1
must leave you to amuse yourself
This is my rest hour. Make
yourself at home and go about
as you please!”
Nancy did not move until the
last sound of her aunt’s footstep
died away. A door shut, then
the house was perfectly still.
She drew a long qu; cry breath.
“Thank gooclne. s—she does
have to rest! Nancy Leavitt,
how are you ever going to stand
all that pomposity—for days and
days. Wouldn't it be funny if I
took to talking to myself in this
dreadful stillness? Happy House
—Happy, indeed.”
It was not at all difficult for
Nancy to know what each room,
opening from the long hall, was
or what it looked like. The par
lor opened from one side, the sit
ting room from the other;the din
ing room was behind the sitting
room and the kitchen in a wing
beyond that. The parlor with its
old mahogany and walnut furni
ture, its faded pictures and ugly
carpeting was, of course, just like
the sitting room, except that, to
give it more of a homey air, in
the sitting room there were some
..^axed /lQw$rs under a glass, a
huge old bible on the marble
topped table, a bunch of peacock
feathers in a corner and croehet
. ed tidies on the horsehair chairs
*«-Aud the old mantel that had
f-Oine from England, Webb had
said, was in the “sittin’ room.”
Sh* tiptoed through the hall
and opened the floor on the right.
jt
Accustomed now to the prevail
ing dimness, her eyes swept im
mediately to the old fireplace.
The marble mantel stood out in
all its purity against the dark
wall; age had given a mellow lus
ter to its glossy surface. Nancy,
remembering Webb’s story about
that Anne Leavitt who, ages ago
had placed it there, went to it and
touched it reverently. “ Jl-a-p-p-y
II-o-u-s-e”, she spelled softly, her
finger tracing the letters graven
into the marble. Doubtless it had
come across the sea on one of
those slowr sailing ships of long
ago—that other Anne Leavitt
had waited impatiently months
and months for it!
llad lliat Anne Leavitt, like
poor old Aunt Sabrina, worried
and fussed over Leavitt tradi
tions? Of course not—she had
made them.
A curiosity seized Naney to
find B’lindy. Webb had said she
knew everything. She must be
somewhere beyond that last
closed door in the long hallway
—the omelette had come from
that direction.
Under Nancy’s pressure the
door opened into a pantry and
beyond, in a big, sunny kitchen,
shiny in its spotlessness, stood
B’lindy before a table, putting
the last touches to a pie. She
turned at the sound of Nancy’s
stej). Nancy paused in the door
way.
“May I come in?” she asked.
“Are you B’lindy?” She imitat
ed Webb’s abbreviation.
“Yes,” tlie woman at the table
answered shortly. “And you’re
the niece.” She gave Nancy a
long, steady look. “Ain’t a bit
like a Leavitt’s I can see! Miss
Sabriny would have you come.
I hope you’ll like it.”
“The hateful creature.”
thought Nancy. Why couldn't
some one in Happy House act
natural and kind and jolly?
Like Miss Sabrina, B'lindy was
tall and almost as old; her for
bidding manner came not from a
Homan nose but from heavy
brows that frowned down over
■ deep-set eyes—eyes that pierced
fu thofr keenness. Like Miss Sa
brina she had a certain dignity,
too, which seemed to set her apart
from her fellow creatures—the
result, no doubt, as Nancy
thought, of having been born in
the Leavitt household.
“Of course I’m going to love
it. It's so -so quiet 1 And that
omelette you made me was de
licious. 1 was dreadfully hungry.
And oh, there is so much I want
to know about Happy House.
Webb told me—coming here—
that yon knew everything. I’ve
just gone in and looked at the old
fireplace. Tell me all about that
Anne Leavitt.”
Nancy’s coaxing tone covered
tlie fire that was within her
heart. To herself she was say
ing: “The old iceberg—I’ll
thaw her out now or never!”
B’lindy set her pie down; her
voice warmed a little. She rest
ed her hands on her hips and as
sumed what Webb would have
called her “speakin- ®ir.”
“Well, now, if it’s pryin’
B’lindy Guest don’t know noth
in', but if it's hist’ry—Webb’s
just about right. Justin Leavitt
brought Anne Leavitt down from
Montreal 'along ago as 1740,
when there was first a settle
ment lip to Isle la Motte. He
bought most this whole Island, I
guess, from the Indians and when
they wanted a home Anne Leavitt
laid her finger on this very spot
we’re sittin’ on. Justin built the
house out of the stone they dug
from the Island itself. And she
planned that there mantel—just
set her heart on it and It seems
how a Leavitt could have any
thing—anyways they lied it made
in England and brought over
here jest’s she planned with Hap
py House spelled on it all carved
like ’tis now. And she helped
put it up with her own little
hands. The house’s been ehanged
a lot sence but no one’s ever
touched that mantel!”
“And then she died,” put in
Nancy, breathlessly.
“Yes—she was just nothin’
raore'u a child and delicate at
that and wa’n’t built to stand
them pi’neer hardships, hidin’
from the Indians and eatin’ corn
and roots and the like when she
was used to food as good as the
king’s, for noble blood she had—
the book over at North Hero says
so! She just seemed to live ’til
that there mantel come and she
saw it with her very own eyes.
she hung on spite of everything
’til she’d got that done and then
jest ’sif she was tuckered out
she laid down and died!”
“In what room, B'lindy?'’
“What’s now the guest room
—so the book says.” B'lindy
ignored Nancy’s stifled, “Oh,
goodness me! ” “ That next year
the Indians attacked all the set
tlers and Justin Leavitt and his
brother, RemembrantV, was
killed along with a half dozen
other pi’neers heatin’ back the
red men while Robert’s wife and
the other women folk escaped in
an open boat across the lake and
Robert’s wife hid little Justin un
der her cape. Then Happy House
was empty ’til little Justin
growed up and came back. ’ ’
“And had the Indians gone
then?”
“No, but they were friendly
like and a good thing it was for
they’d never been worse en’mies
than the Yorkers was then. 1
guess Ethan Allen and his Green
Mountain Boys slept right here
many a time, for there wasn’t
much they did fightin’ the York
ers without consultin’ a Leavitt!
But here I am rattlin’ on and
the oven waitin’ for them pies.”
“Oh, B’lindy—it’s like a won
derful story! Will you show me
the book that tells all about it?
I’m so glad my name is Anne,
too. If you’re busy I’ll run out
and look at the garden—and find
Jouathnn. Webb told me about
him, too.”
Nancy's spirits were soaring;
instinctively she felt that she
had won B’lindy! It was a good
beginning. She opened the great
oak door and stepped out upon
the path. At one time the
grounds of Happy House must
have been pretentious—they
were quaintly beautiful now in
their age and half neglect. Flow
ering perennials had crept out
from their old beds and had
spread unchecked around among
the giant trunks of the trees so
that from hedge to hedge there
was a riot of color.
Among the gay blossoms
Nancy picked her way, skirting
the walls of the house to discover
what might lie beyond. In the
back she found Jonathan potter
ing among some raspberry
bushes that bordered the flagged
walk. He was very bent and
very old and very wrinkled; his
eyes twitched and blinked as>be
lifted his head to look at her.'
“Good afternoon ! I am Anne
Leavitt,” Nancy called blith<$y.
He was such a perfect part of
the old, old garden that she
loved him on the spot.
“Wal, wal—little Anne Leav
itt,” and he nodded and blinked
nf lion
l'I wish you’d call me Nancy,”
Nancy ventured. ‘‘Everyone
does, and I don’t seem nearly big
enough to be Anne. I love your
flowers and oh, what a lot of
berries you are going to have!”
The old man straightened his
shoulders—at least he tiled to!
His flowers were his children.
‘‘In my younger days this here
garden was the show of the isl
and,” he answered proudly.
‘‘Folks come from all round to
look at it! Thirty-two kinds of
posies and that want countin’ the
hollyhocks that grew like trees—
taller'n I am. And vines and
berries and vegetables. But I
can’t work like I used to, and
Miss Sabriny don’t like anyone
but me to touch things. So things
huvo to go abit. Miss Nancy,
huh ! Ye are a little thing.” But
his smile was kindly. “Ami I
hope ye bring some sunshine to
Happy House.”
Suddenly Nancy exclaimed:
‘‘Oh—the lake! I didn’t realize
how close we were to it.”
Beyond the raspberry patch
and the kitchen garden stretched
an old orchard. Through the
trees Nancy had glimpsed the
sapphire blue of Lake Champlain.
“Is that orchard ours?” she
asked Jonathan.
‘‘That it is. 1 helped my fath
er plant those thar trees myself
and they’re the best bearin’ on
the hul of Nor’ Hero!”
Nancy stood irresolute. She
wanted to explore further—to
run out among the apple trees to
the very cliff of the lake. But
she was bursting to write to
Claire—there was already so
much to tell her.
So with one long, lingering
look she retraced her steps back
to the house. As she passed
slowly under the trees she was
: startled by the movement of a
! single slat in one of the upstairs
j blinds. And instinctively she
i knew that an eye peeped at her
from behind it.
Miss Milly—it must, of course,
be the ‘‘poor Miss Milly” of
whom Webb had spoken!
Nancy closed the front door
softly behind her that it might
not disturb Miss Sabrina’s hour
of rest. Then she tiptoed up the
ilong stairway. It took but a
moment’s calculating to decide
which door led to the room where
the blind bad opened. She
stopped before it and tapped
gently with one knuckle.
“Come in,” a voice answered.
Opening the door, Nancy
walked into a room the counter
part of her own, exeept that a
couch was drawn before the
blinded windows. And against it
half lay a frail little woman with
snow white hair and tired eyes,
shadowing a face that still held a
trace of youth.
As Nancy hesitated on the
threshold a voice singularly
sweet called to her:
“Come in, my dear! I am
your Aunt Milly.”
CHAPTEE IV.
- „ fl*
Aunt Milly.
“So this is Anne Leavitt!”
But Aunt Milly did not say it
it at all like Aunt Sabrina, or
even crisply, like B’lihdy’s “so
you’re the niece,” but with a
warm, little trill in her voice that
made Nancy feel as though she
was very, very glad to have her
there!
Two frail little hands caught
Nancy’s and squeezed them in
such a human way that Nancy
leaned over impulsively and
kissed Miss Milly on her cheek.
“I am so very glad to know
you.” Aunt Milly dashed a tear
away from her check. “I've
counted the hours—after Sa
brina told me you were coming.
Today I lay here listening for
Webb and then must have fallen
asleep, so that when you really
came I didn’t know it. Wasn’t
that silly? Sit right down, dear
—no, not in thot old chair, it’s so
uncomfortable—pull up that
rocker. Let me get a good look
at you!”
Nancy did not even dread Miss
Milly’s “good look”—she was so
delightfully human! She pulled
the rocker close to the lounge
and stretched out in it with a
happy little sigh.
“I thought I’d never get here!
It seems as though this is way
off in the corner of the world.
And I’m just tired enough to
find the—the quiet downright
restful.”
Aunt Milly laughed. “I’ve
been worrying over the ‘quiet’.
It’s so dreadfully quiet here—
for young folks. 1 was afraid
it would make you homesick.
Now tell me all about your trip
and your commencement. I’ve
been going over in my mind just
what your commencement must
have been like—ever since Sa
brina told me we had a niece
who was a senior in college. It
must be wonderful!” she fin
ished, with just the tiniest bit of.
a sigh.
Suddenly Nancy realized that
here was someone hungry to
know all that was going on in
the world outside of North Hero
—not the world of men and wom
en, but her girl’s world—that
world that had ended commence
ment day. She told a few little
things about senior week, then,
a little homesick for all that had
just been left behind, she rattled
off one recollection after another
with an enthusiasm that kindled
an answering fire in Miss Milly’s
eyes.
“I can’t bear to think it's all
over—except that life itself is
one grand adventure and prob
ably, after a little, I’ll look back
on the school days ana trunk how
empty they were of—real
things!” Then Nancy, looking
down at the frail white hand that
clasped her own, though with a
sort of shock that life was
scarcely an adventure for poor
Miss Milly.
But Miss Milly answered con
tentedly. ‘‘I love to hear all
about it. I'm glad you had it,
my dear. 1 hope you’ll come in
and talk with me often—it’s like
sunshine hearing your young
voice!”
‘‘Oh, I shall like to. You won't
think I’m dreadful, will you, if
I tell you that Aunt Sabrina
frightens me awfully and so does
B'lindy—just a little. But you
don’t seem a bit like them.”
Miss Milly laughed outright—
a laugh that had a silver tinkle in
it. ‘‘No, I suppose I’m not—
a bit like them.”
‘‘So when I’m so frightened I
don’t know what to do I shall
come straight to you. And,
please, Aunt Milly, will you call
I me Nancy! No one has ever
called me anything but that and
i it makes me feel—like someone
| else—when they call me Anne.
! Aunt Sabrina was horrified when
II asked her.”
: ‘‘Yes—she would be! Of
; course I shall call you Nancy—or
i anything that you wish ! I can't
! be much company for you, dear,
tied to this couch, but you can
bring a great deal of happiness
i to me.” __
• (Continued next week.)
«
WARNING ! Say “Bayer” when you buy Aspirin.
Unless you see the name “Bayer” on tablets, you are
not getting genuine Aspirin prescribed by physicians
over 22 years and proved safe by millions for
Colds Headache Rheumatism
Toothache Neuralgia Neuritis
Earache Lumbago Pain, Pain
Accept only “Bayer” package which contains proper directions.
Handy “Bayer” boxes of 12 tablets—Also bottles of 24 and 100—Druggists.
Aspirin Is the trade mark of Bayer Mannfacture of Moooaceticacldester of SaUcyllcaeid
DRUG DREAMS CALLED MYTH
Research Has Shown That Habitual 1
Users of Opiates Can Do No
Lasting Good Work.
The gulf between the songs of pop
pies Hint breathe of sloop, the golden
and green dragons, and tlie ecstatic
dreams that mark the “literature” of
drug addiction and the dismal side
of the vice which the police behold,
is brought out in an article by Dr.
Carlton Simon, who emphasizes in the
Scientific American the fact that
opium, hasheesh, cocaine, heroin,
morphine and the rest are far from
lyrical.
“From the standpoint of the po
lice." he writes, “all the romance of
the songs and short stories is swept
away on tlie fumes of a drug which
tilings depression, poverty, despair,
and death.” It has long been sus
fiecfed that the drug dream, ns a
literary motif, was much overrated,
iiy the time the addict is able to write
of Ids visions— if he has them—after
a doham-h, he is ill and purposeless
and ready for another dose. For any
body but a DeQulncoy a sniff is in
spiration enough for a drug poem or
mlc. <o> further, and the dreams van
ish in a loathsome reality.
Not From the Heart.
He Imd come borne with a breath—
■ ne of those breaths llint makes a fel
iiw about as popular with Ids wife
is a fly in a candy kitchen. The
Missus had company and tried to ease
dm through the hull to the kitchen,
lie v.a feelai. jovial met wished
0 sm cute tlrngs. Si he valid his
rife an unusunily high-powered eom
iliment.
“Huh!" she blurted. “That didn't
•nine from the heart. That come from
1 bottle:" Indianapolis News.
Ballroom Dancing.
The earliest form of ballroom danc
ing was the quadrille, started about
iSIo. 'lids was followed by the lan
cers, invented in 1 Slid. The polka tens
adopted in 18.'!o. The waltz, which
came front Germany, in 17iV>, did not
become popular as a ballroom dance
rill later. The two-step is an Ameri
can invention.
HIS GOOD BUSINESS SENSE
Easy to See That This Restaurant
Proprietor Will Succeed in His
Line of Trade.
First Guest—HI, waiter, open that
window, please, i can’t stand this
heat.
Waiter—D'reotty, sir. (Opens the
window.)
Second Guest (n little later)—
Walter, there’s draught enough to
give one a death of cold. Do shut the
window.
Waiter—Yes, sir. (Shuts the win
dow.)
First Guest—Walter, are you mad?
Why have you closed the window?
Open It again at once.
Walter—Very good, sir. (Goes to
proprietor.) Sir, one of the gentle
men wants the window open and the
other wants me to shut It. What am
I to do?
Proprietor—Do what the gentleman
says who hasn’t dined yet.—X’eterson’s
Weekly.
Fur Beavers.
The government forest rangers re
port a great number of beavers this
year, and the indications are that there
will he plenty of skins for furs unless
the laws which now protect the ani
mals are greatly relaxed. Two years
ago- in the Coehetopa forest in Colo
rado there were 200 beavers, estimat
ing four or five to a bouse, which is
a conservative estimate. Tills year
tlrere are 12,000 animals. Beavers
have complete protection In 25 states
and have become so numerous that
they are a nuisance.
Manner of Administering.
A cowboy living near Big Stranger
was complaining to the new school i
mar tii about bis stiff legs.
“1 think.” she said, “a course in dei
sartc would benefit you.”
"How do you take that?” lie asked.
“Do you take it witii a spoon or does
it come in capsules?”
“It's the kind of tiling,” she replied,
“that you shake while taking.”—Union
Pacific Bulletin.
Poverty often pinches the body and
wealth sometimes pinches the soul.
“Those Who Dance
Must Pay The Fiddler ”
There’s a settlement in profit or loss, for
nearly every indulgence.
Sometimes the pay day is long deferred, and
in that case the settlement may bear compound
interest.
Often a payment in ill health is required for
the dance had with tea or coffee during earlier j
years. Sometimes the collection comes in sleep
lessness, sometimes in headaches, sometimes in
high blood pressure, or in nervous, indigestion—
sometimes in all these penalties.
Nerves won’t always stand the whipping of
tea and coffee’s drug, caffeine.
If you’ve been dancing to tea or coffee’s fid
dling, why keep on till payment time comes? If
you’re beginning to pay, now, why not cancel the
contract?
There’s an easy and pleasant way to avoid
tea and coffee’s penalties, as thousands have found
who have changed to Postum. It is a delight
with any meal—rich, comforting and satisfying
—and it never harms. Even the little children
can have a breakfast cup of Postum, with no fear
for what may happen to sensitive nerves. ^
Instead of paying penalties for your meal
time drink, let it pay benefits to you, by giving
natural health a full chance—and begin the new j
arrangement today. Any grocer will sell you, or \
any good restaurant will serve you Postum. |
Postum comes in two forms: Instant Postum (In tins) |s
made instantly in the cup by the addition of boiling water. j>;i
Postum Cereal (in packages of larger bulk, for those who !p;
prefer to make the drink while the meal is being prepared) ||i|
made by boiling for 20 minutes. | ^
Postum for Health
“There’s a Reason” ||