Just David [46]
only a plain low table, a work-basket, and three or four wooden-seated though comfortable chairs. With increasing wonder he looked into Miss Holbrook's eyes.
"Is it here that you stay--all day?" he asked diffidently.
Miss Holbrook's face turned a vivid scarlet.
"Why, David, what a question! Of course not! Why should you think I did?"
"Nothing; only I've been wondering all the time I've been here how you could--with all those beautiful things around you downstairs--say what you did."
"Say what?--when?"
"That other day in the garden--about ALL your hours being cloudy ones. So I didn't know to-day but what you LIVED up here, same as Mrs. Holly doesn't use her best rooms; and that was why your hours were all cloudy ones."
With a sudden movement Miss Holbrook rose to her feet.
"Nonsense, David! You shouldn't always remember everything that people say to you. Come, you haven't seen one of the views from the windows yet. We are in the larger tower, you know. You can see Hinsdale village on this side, and there's a fine view of the mountains over there. Oh yes, and from the other side there's your friend's house--Mr. Jack's. By the way, how is Mr. Jack these days?" Miss Holbrook stooped as she asked the question and picked up a bit of thread from the rug.
David ran at once to the window that looked toward the House that Jack Built. From the tower the little house appeared to be smaller than ever. It was in the shadow, too, and looked strangely alone and forlorn. Unconsciously, as he gazed at it, David compared it with the magnificence he had just seen. His voice choked as he answered.
"He isn't well, Lady of the Roses, and he's unhappy. He's awfully unhappy."
Miss Holbrook's slender figure came up with a jerk.
"What do you mean, boy? How do you know he's unhappy? Has he said so?"
"No; but Mrs. Holly told me about him. He's sick; and he'd just found his work to do out in the world when he had to stop and come home. But--oh, quick, there he is! See?"
Instead of coming nearer Miss Holbrook fell back to the center of the room; but her eyes were still turned toward the little house.
"Yes, I see," she murmured. The next instant she had snatched a handkerchief from David's outstretched hand. "No--no--I wouldn't wave," she remonstrated hurriedly. "Come--come downstairs with me."
"But I thought--I was sure he was looking this way," asserted David, turning reluctantly from the window. "And if he HAD seen me wave to him, he'd have been so glad; now, wouldn't he?"
There was no answer. The Lady of the Roses did not apparently hear. She had gone on down the stairway.
CHAPTER XV
SECRETS
David had so much to tell Jack and Jill that he went to see them the very next day after his second visit to Sunnycrest. He carried his violin with him. He found, however, only Jill at home. She was sitting on the veranda steps.
There was not so much embarrassment between them this time, perhaps because they were in the freedom of the wide out-of-doors, and David felt more at ease. He was plainly disappointed, however, that Mr. Jack was not there.
"But I wanted to see him! I wanted to see him 'specially," he lamented.
"You'd better stay, then. He'll be home by and by," comforted Jill. "He's gone pot-boiling."
"Pot-boiling! What's that?"
Jill chuckled.
"Well, you see, really it's this way: he sells something to boil in other people's pots so he can have something to boil in ours, he says. It's stuff from the garden, you know. We raise it to sell. Poor Jack--and he does hate it so!"
David nodded sympathetically.
"I know--and it must be awful, just hoeing and weeding all the time."
"Still, of course he knows he's got to do it, because it's out of doors, and he just has to be out of doors all he can," rejoined the girl. "He's sick, you know, and sometimes he's so unhappy! He doesn't say much. Jack never says much--only with his face. But I know, and it--it just makes me want to cry."
At David's dismayed exclamation Jill jumped to her feet. It owned to her suddenly that
"Is it here that you stay--all day?" he asked diffidently.
Miss Holbrook's face turned a vivid scarlet.
"Why, David, what a question! Of course not! Why should you think I did?"
"Nothing; only I've been wondering all the time I've been here how you could--with all those beautiful things around you downstairs--say what you did."
"Say what?--when?"
"That other day in the garden--about ALL your hours being cloudy ones. So I didn't know to-day but what you LIVED up here, same as Mrs. Holly doesn't use her best rooms; and that was why your hours were all cloudy ones."
With a sudden movement Miss Holbrook rose to her feet.
"Nonsense, David! You shouldn't always remember everything that people say to you. Come, you haven't seen one of the views from the windows yet. We are in the larger tower, you know. You can see Hinsdale village on this side, and there's a fine view of the mountains over there. Oh yes, and from the other side there's your friend's house--Mr. Jack's. By the way, how is Mr. Jack these days?" Miss Holbrook stooped as she asked the question and picked up a bit of thread from the rug.
David ran at once to the window that looked toward the House that Jack Built. From the tower the little house appeared to be smaller than ever. It was in the shadow, too, and looked strangely alone and forlorn. Unconsciously, as he gazed at it, David compared it with the magnificence he had just seen. His voice choked as he answered.
"He isn't well, Lady of the Roses, and he's unhappy. He's awfully unhappy."
Miss Holbrook's slender figure came up with a jerk.
"What do you mean, boy? How do you know he's unhappy? Has he said so?"
"No; but Mrs. Holly told me about him. He's sick; and he'd just found his work to do out in the world when he had to stop and come home. But--oh, quick, there he is! See?"
Instead of coming nearer Miss Holbrook fell back to the center of the room; but her eyes were still turned toward the little house.
"Yes, I see," she murmured. The next instant she had snatched a handkerchief from David's outstretched hand. "No--no--I wouldn't wave," she remonstrated hurriedly. "Come--come downstairs with me."
"But I thought--I was sure he was looking this way," asserted David, turning reluctantly from the window. "And if he HAD seen me wave to him, he'd have been so glad; now, wouldn't he?"
There was no answer. The Lady of the Roses did not apparently hear. She had gone on down the stairway.
CHAPTER XV
SECRETS
David had so much to tell Jack and Jill that he went to see them the very next day after his second visit to Sunnycrest. He carried his violin with him. He found, however, only Jill at home. She was sitting on the veranda steps.
There was not so much embarrassment between them this time, perhaps because they were in the freedom of the wide out-of-doors, and David felt more at ease. He was plainly disappointed, however, that Mr. Jack was not there.
"But I wanted to see him! I wanted to see him 'specially," he lamented.
"You'd better stay, then. He'll be home by and by," comforted Jill. "He's gone pot-boiling."
"Pot-boiling! What's that?"
Jill chuckled.
"Well, you see, really it's this way: he sells something to boil in other people's pots so he can have something to boil in ours, he says. It's stuff from the garden, you know. We raise it to sell. Poor Jack--and he does hate it so!"
David nodded sympathetically.
"I know--and it must be awful, just hoeing and weeding all the time."
"Still, of course he knows he's got to do it, because it's out of doors, and he just has to be out of doors all he can," rejoined the girl. "He's sick, you know, and sometimes he's so unhappy! He doesn't say much. Jack never says much--only with his face. But I know, and it--it just makes me want to cry."
At David's dismayed exclamation Jill jumped to her feet. It owned to her suddenly that