Just David [76]
Jack steadily; and David did not know that only stern self-control had forced the steadiness into that voice, nor that, for Mr. Jack, the whole world had burst suddenly into song.
Neither did David, the next morning, know that long before eight o'clock Mr. Jack stood at a certain window, his eyes unswervingly fixed on the gray towers of Sunnycrest. What David did know, however, was that just after eight, Mr. Jack strode through the room where he and Jill were playing checkers, flung himself into his hat and coat, and then fairly leaped down the steps toward the path that led to the footbridge at the bottom of the hill.
"Why, whatever in the world ails Jack?" gasped Jill. Then, after a startled pause, she asked. "David, do folks ever go crazy for joy? Yesterday, you see, Jack got two splendid pieces of news. One was from his doctor. He was examined, and he's fine, the doctor says; all well, so he can go back, now any time, to the city and work. I shall go to school then, you know,--a young ladies' school," she finished, a little importantly.
"He's well? How splendid! But what was the other news? You said there were two; only it couldn't have been nicer than that was; to be well--all well!"
"The other? Well, that was only that his old place in the city was waiting for him. He was with a firm of big lawyers, you know, and of course it is nice to have a place all waiting. But I can't see anything in those things to make him act like this, now. Can you?"
"Why, yes, maybe," declared David. "He's found his work--don't you see?--out in the world, and he's going to do it. I know how I'd feel if I had found mine that father told me of! Only what I can't understand is, if Mr. Jack knew all this yesterday, why did n't he act like this then, instead of waiting till to-day?"
"I wonder," said Jill.
CHAPTER XXV
THE BEAUTIFUL WORLD
David found many new songs in his violin those early winter days, and they were very beautiful ones. To begin with, there were all the kindly looks and deeds that were showered upon him from every side. There was the first snowstorm, too, with the feathery flakes turning all the world to fairy whiteness. This song David played to Mr. Streeter, one day, and great was his disappointment that the man could not seem to understand what the song said.
"But don't you see?" pleaded David. "I'm telling you that it's your pear-tree blossoms come back to say how glad they are that you didn't kill them that day."
"Pear-tree blossoms--come back!" ejaculated the old man. "Well, no, I can't see. Where's yer pear-tree blossoms?"
"Why, there--out of the window--everywhere," urged the boy.
"THERE! By ginger! boy--ye don't mean--ye CAN'T mean the SNOW!"
"Of course I do! Now, can't you see it? Why, the whole tree was just a great big cloud of snowflakes. Don't you remember? Well, now it's gone away and got a whole lot more trees, and all the little white petals have come dancing down to celebrate, and to tell you they sure are coming back next year."
"Well, by ginger!" exclaimed the man again. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head with a hearty laugh. David did not quite like the laugh, neither did he care for the five-cent piece that the man thrust into his fingers a little later; though--had David but known it--both the laugh and the five-cent piece gift were--for the uncomprehending man who gave them--white milestones along an unfamiliar way.
It was soon after this that there came to David the great surprise--his beloved Lady of the Roses and his no less beloved Mr. Jack were to be married at the beginning of the New Year. So very surprised, indeed, was David at this, that even his violin was mute, and had nothing, at first, to say about it. But to Mr. Jack, as man to man, David said one day:--
"I thought men, when they married women, went courting. In story-books they do. And you--you hardly ever said a word to my beautiful Lady of the Roses; and you spoke once--long ago--as if you scarcely remembered her at all. Now, what do you mean by that?"
And Mr. Jack laughed,
Neither did David, the next morning, know that long before eight o'clock Mr. Jack stood at a certain window, his eyes unswervingly fixed on the gray towers of Sunnycrest. What David did know, however, was that just after eight, Mr. Jack strode through the room where he and Jill were playing checkers, flung himself into his hat and coat, and then fairly leaped down the steps toward the path that led to the footbridge at the bottom of the hill.
"Why, whatever in the world ails Jack?" gasped Jill. Then, after a startled pause, she asked. "David, do folks ever go crazy for joy? Yesterday, you see, Jack got two splendid pieces of news. One was from his doctor. He was examined, and he's fine, the doctor says; all well, so he can go back, now any time, to the city and work. I shall go to school then, you know,--a young ladies' school," she finished, a little importantly.
"He's well? How splendid! But what was the other news? You said there were two; only it couldn't have been nicer than that was; to be well--all well!"
"The other? Well, that was only that his old place in the city was waiting for him. He was with a firm of big lawyers, you know, and of course it is nice to have a place all waiting. But I can't see anything in those things to make him act like this, now. Can you?"
"Why, yes, maybe," declared David. "He's found his work--don't you see?--out in the world, and he's going to do it. I know how I'd feel if I had found mine that father told me of! Only what I can't understand is, if Mr. Jack knew all this yesterday, why did n't he act like this then, instead of waiting till to-day?"
"I wonder," said Jill.
CHAPTER XXV
THE BEAUTIFUL WORLD
David found many new songs in his violin those early winter days, and they were very beautiful ones. To begin with, there were all the kindly looks and deeds that were showered upon him from every side. There was the first snowstorm, too, with the feathery flakes turning all the world to fairy whiteness. This song David played to Mr. Streeter, one day, and great was his disappointment that the man could not seem to understand what the song said.
"But don't you see?" pleaded David. "I'm telling you that it's your pear-tree blossoms come back to say how glad they are that you didn't kill them that day."
"Pear-tree blossoms--come back!" ejaculated the old man. "Well, no, I can't see. Where's yer pear-tree blossoms?"
"Why, there--out of the window--everywhere," urged the boy.
"THERE! By ginger! boy--ye don't mean--ye CAN'T mean the SNOW!"
"Of course I do! Now, can't you see it? Why, the whole tree was just a great big cloud of snowflakes. Don't you remember? Well, now it's gone away and got a whole lot more trees, and all the little white petals have come dancing down to celebrate, and to tell you they sure are coming back next year."
"Well, by ginger!" exclaimed the man again. Then, suddenly, he threw back his head with a hearty laugh. David did not quite like the laugh, neither did he care for the five-cent piece that the man thrust into his fingers a little later; though--had David but known it--both the laugh and the five-cent piece gift were--for the uncomprehending man who gave them--white milestones along an unfamiliar way.
It was soon after this that there came to David the great surprise--his beloved Lady of the Roses and his no less beloved Mr. Jack were to be married at the beginning of the New Year. So very surprised, indeed, was David at this, that even his violin was mute, and had nothing, at first, to say about it. But to Mr. Jack, as man to man, David said one day:--
"I thought men, when they married women, went courting. In story-books they do. And you--you hardly ever said a word to my beautiful Lady of the Roses; and you spoke once--long ago--as if you scarcely remembered her at all. Now, what do you mean by that?"
And Mr. Jack laughed,