"Oh,yes.'I count no hours but unclouded ones'--and I liked that.'T was on a sundial,you know;and I'M going to be a sundial,and not count,the hours I don't like--while I'm pulling up weeds,and hoeing potatoes,and picking up stones,and all that.Don't you see?"For a moment the man stared dumbly.Then he threw back his head and laughed.
"Well,by George!"he muttered."By George!"And he laughed again.Then:"And did your father teach you that,too?"he asked.
"Oh,no,--well,he taught me Latin,and so of course I could read it when I found it.But those 'special words I got off the sundial where my Lady of the Roses lives.""Your--Lady of the Roses!And who is she?"
"Why,don't you know?You live right in sight of her house,"cried David,pointing to the towers of Sunnycrest that showed above the trees."It's over there she lives.I know those towers now,and I look for them wherever I go.I love them.It makes me see all over again the roses--and her.""You mean--Miss Holbrook?"
The voice was so different from the genial tones that he had heard before that David looked up in surprise.
"Yes;she said that was her name,"he answered,wondering at the indefinable change that had come to the man's face.
There was a moment's pause,then the man rose to his feet.
"How's your head?Does it ache?"he asked briskly.
"Not much--some.I--I think I'll be going,"replied David,a little awkwardly,reaching for his violin,and unconsciously showing by his manner the sudden chill in the atmosphere.
The little girl spoke then.She overwhelmed him again with thanks,and pointed to the contented kitten on the window sill.
True,she did not tell him this time that she would love,love,love him always;but she beamed upon him gratefully and she urged him to come soon again,and often.
David bowed himself off,with many a backward wave of the hand,and many a promise to come again.Not until he had quite reached the bottom of the hill did he remember that the man,"Jack,"had said almost nothing at the last.As David recollected him,indeed,he had last been seen standing beside one of the veranda posts,with gloomy eyes fixed on the towers of Sunnycrest that showed red-gold above the tree-tops in the last rays of the setting sun.
It was a bad half-hour that David spent at the Holly farmhouse in explanation of his torn blouse and bruised face.Farmer Holly did not approve of fights,and he said so,very sternly indeed.Even Mrs.Holly,who was usually so kind to him,let David understand that he was in deep disgrace,though she was very tender to his wounds.
David did venture to ask her,however,before he went upstairs to bed:--"Mrs.Holly,who are those people--Jack and Jill--that were so good to me this afternoon?""They are John Gurnsey and his sister,Julia;but the whole town knows them by the names they long ago gave themselves,'Jack'and 'Jill.'""And do they live all alone in the little house?""Yes,except for the Widow Glaspell,who comes in several times a week,I believe,to cook and wash and sweep.They aren't very happy,I'm afraid,David,and I'm glad you could rescue the little girl's kitten for her--but you mustn't fight.No good can come of fighting!""I got the cat--by fighting."
"Yes,yes,I know;but--"She did not finish her sentence,and David was only waiting for a pause to ask another question.
"Why aren't they happy,Mrs.Holly?"
"Tut,tut,David,it's a long story,and you wouldn't understand it if I told it.It's only that they're all alone in the world,and Jack Gurnsey isn't well.He must be thirty years old now.He had bright hopes not so long ago studying law,or something of the sort,in the city.Then his father died,and his mother,and he lost his health.Something ails his lungs,and the doctors sent him here to be out of doors.He even sleeps out of doors,they say.Anyway,he's here,and he's making a home for his sister;but,of course,with his hopes and ambitions--But there,David,you don't understand,of course!""Oh,yes,I do,"breathed David,his eyes pensively turned toward a shadowy corner."He found his work out in the world,and then he had to stop and couldn't do it.Poor Mr.Jack!"
