Ellen Robinson buttoned her long cloak forcefully, and arose with a haughty air from the rocking chair where she had pointed her remarks for the last half hour by swaying noisily back and forth and touching the toes of her new high-heeled shoes with a click each time to the floor. Julia Cloud said nothing. She stood at the front window, looking out across the sodden lawn to the road in the gray sky in the distance. She did not turn around to face her arrogant sister. 2 What I'd like to know is what you do propose to do, then, if you don't accept our offer and come to live with us. Were you expecting to keep on living in this great barn of a house? Ellen Robinson's voice was loud and strident with a crude kind of pain. She could not understand her sister, in fact, never had. She had thought her proposition that Julia would come to live in her home and earn her board by looking after the four children and being useful about the house was most generous. She had admired the open handedness of Herbert her husband for suggesting it. Some husbands wouldn't have wanted a poor relative about. Of course Julia always had been a hard worker, and it would relieve Ellen and make it possible for her to go around with her husband more. It would save the wages of a servant too, for Julia had always been a wonder at economy. It certainly was vexing to have Julia act in this way, calmly putting aside the proposition as if it were nothing and saying she hadn't decided what she was going to do yet for all the world as if she were a millionaire. I don't know, Ellen. I haven't had time to think. There have been so many things to think about since the funeral I haven't got used yet to the idea that mothers really gone. Julia's voice was quiet and controlled, in sharp contrast with Ellen's high-pitched, nervous tones. That's it, snapped Ellen. When you do you'll go all to pieces, staying here alone in this great barn. That's why I want you to decide now.  I've spent just as much time away from home as I can spare the last three weeks, and I've got to get back to my house. I can't stay with you any more. Of course not, Ellen. I quite understand that, said Julia, turning around pleasantly. I hadn't expected you to stay. It isn't in the least necessary. You know I'm not at all afraid. But it isn't decent to leave you here alone when you've got folks that can take care of you. What will people think? It places us in an awfully awkward position. They will simply think that I have chosen to remain in my own house, Ellen. I don't see anything strange or indecent about that. Julia Cloud had turned about and was facing her sister calmly now. Her quiet voice seemed to irritate Ellen. What nonsense, she said sharply, how exceedingly childish, letting yourself be ruled by whims, when common sense must show you that you are wrong. I wonder if you aren't ever going to be a woman. Ellen said this word woman as if her sister had already passed into the antique class and ought to realize it. It was one of the things that hurt Julia Cloud to realize that she was growing old, apparently without the dignity that belonged to her years, for they all talked to her yet as if she were a little child and needed to be managed. She opened her lips to speak but thought better of it and shut them again, turning back to the window in the gray, sodden landscape.  I shall have to go and leave you to the consequences of your folly. I'm sure I don't know what Herbert will say when he finds out how you've scorned his kindness. It isn't every brother-in-law would offer. Yes, offer, Julia, for I never even suggested it to take on extra expense in his family. But you won't see your ingratitude if I stand here and talk till doomsday, so I'm going back to my children. If you come to your senses you can ride out with Boyce Baines tomorrow afternoon. Goodbye, and I'm sure I hope you won't regret this all your life. Julia walked to the door with her sister and stood watching her sadly while she climbed into her smart little Ford and skillfully steered it out of the yard and down the road. The very set of her shoulders as she sailed away toward home was disapproving.  It was time for a sunset but the sky was leaden. There would be nothing but grayness to look at. Grayness in front of her, grayness behind in the dim silent room. It was like her life, her long gray life, behind and ahead. All her life she had had to serve and see others happy. First as a child, the oldest child. There had been the other children, three brothers in Ellen. She had brought them all up, as it were, for the mother had always been delicate and ailing. She had washed their faces, kissed their bruises, and taken them to school. She had watched their love affairs and sent them out into the world one by one. Two of the brothers had come home to die, and she had nursed them through long months. The third brother married a wealth-figure on California and never came home again except on flying visits. He was dead now too, killed in action in France during the first year of the Great War. Then her father had been thrown from his horse and killed, and she had borne the burden for her mother, settled up the estate, and made both ends meet somehow, taking upon herself the burden of the mother, now a chronic invalid. From time to time her young nieces and nephews had been thrust upon her to care for in some home stress, and always she had done her duty by them, all through long days of mischief and long nights of illness. She had done it cheerfully and patiently, and had never complained even to herself. Always there had been so much to be done that there had been no time to think how the years were going by, her youth passing from her forever without even a glimpse of the rose color that she supposed was meant to come into every life for at least a little while. She hadn't realized it fully she had been so busy. But now, with the last service over, an empty house about her, an empty heart within her, she was looking with startled eyes into the future and facing facts. It was Ellen's attempt to saddle her with a new responsibility and fit her out to drudge on to the end of her days that had suddenly brought the whole thing out in its true light. She was tired, too tired to begin all over again and raise those children for Ellen. They were nice, healthy children and well behaved, but they were Ellen's children and always would be. If she went out to live with the Robinson's, she would be Ellen's handmaid at her beck and call, always feeling that she must do whatever she was asked, whether she was able or not, because she was a dependent. Never anything for love. Oh, Ellen loved her in a way, of course, and she loved Ellen, but they had never understood each other, and Ellen's children had been brought up to laugh and joke at her expense as if she were somehow mentally lacking.  Perhaps it was pride, but Julia Cloud felt she would rather die than face a future like that. It was respectable, of course, and entirely reliable. She would be fed and clothed and nursed when she was ill. She would be buried respectfully when she died, and the neighbors would say the Robinson's had been kind and done the right thing by her, but Julia Cloud shuddered as she looked down the long, dull vista of that future which was offered to her, and drew back for the first time in her life. Not that she had anything better in view, only that she shrank from taking the step that would bring inevitable and irrevocable grayness to the end of her days. She was not above cooking and nursing and toiling forever if there were independence to be had. She would have given her life if love beckoned her. She would have gone to France as a nurse in a moment if she had not been needed at her mother's bedside. Little children drew her powerfully, but to be a drudge for children who did not love her in a home where love was the only condition that would make dependence possible looked intolerable. Julia Cloud had loved everybody that would let her and had received very little love in return. Back in the years when she was twelve and went to school a boy of fifteen or sixteen had been her comrade and companion. They had played together whenever Julia had time to play, and had roamed the woods and waited the creeks in company. Then his people moved away, and he had kissed her goodbye and told her that some day he was coming back to get her. It was a childish affection, but it was the only kiss of that kind she had to remember. The boy had written to her for a whole year, when one day there came a letter from his grandmother telling how he was drowned in saving the life of a little child.  The tears that she shed in secret were never allowed to trouble her family, and gradually the pain had grown into a great calm. No one ever came her way to touch her heart again.  Julia Cloud was not one to pity herself. She was sane, healthy, and not naturally morbid, but to-night, for some reason, the gray sky and the gray sodden earth and the gray road of the future had got her in their clutches, and she could not get away from them. With straining eyes she searched a little bit of west between the orchard tree that always showed a sunset if there was one, but no streak of orange, rose, or gold broke the sullen clouds. Well, what was she going to do anyway? Ellen's questions seemed to ring on stridently in her ears. She tried to face it looking down the gray road into the gray sky. She had the house, but there were taxes to pay, and there would be repairs every little while to eat up the infinitesimal income which was left her when all the expenses of her mother's long illness and death were paid. They had been spending their principal. It could not have been helped. In all, she knew, she had something like two hundred dollars a year remaining. Not enough to board her if she tried to board anywhere to say nothing of clothing. All this had been fully and exhaustively commented upon by Ellen Robinson during the afternoon. The house might be rented, of course, though it was too antiquated and shabby looking to bring much, if Julie was not so ridiculously sentimental about it. Julia had really very little sentiment connected with the house, but Ellen had chosen to think she had, so it amounted to the same thing as far as the argument went. Julia knew in her own heart that the only thing that held her to the dreary old house with its sad memories and its haunting emptiness was the fact that it was hers and that here she could be independent and do as she pleased. If she pleased to starve, no one else need know it. The big ache that was in her heart was the fact that there was nobody really to care if she did starve. Even Ellen's solicitations were largely from duty and a fear of what the neighbors would say if she did not look after her sister. Julia was lonely and idle for the first time in her busy dull life, and her heart had just discovered its love hunger and was crying out in desolation. She wanted something to love and be loved by. She missed even the Peavey's childish invalid, whose last five years had been little else than a living death, with a mind so vague and hazy as seldom to know the faithful daughter who cared for her night and day. She missed the heart and soul out of life, the bit of color that would glorify all living and make it beautiful. Well, to come back to sorted things, what was there that she could do to eke out her pitiful little living? For lived she must, since she was here in this bleak world and it seemed to be expected of her. Keep borders? Yes, if there were any to keep, but in this town there were few who boarded. There was nothing to draw strangers, and the old inhabitants mostly owned their own houses. She could sew, but there were already more sewing women in the community than could be supported by the work there was to be done, for most of the women in Stirling did their own Stirling. There were two things which she knew she could do well, which everybody knew she could do, and for which she knew Ellen was anxious to have her services. She was the best nurse in town and a fine cook, but again the women of Stirling, most of them, did their own cooking, and there was comparatively little nursing where a trained nurse would not be hired. In short, the few things she could do were not in demand in this neighborhood. Nevertheless, she knew in her heart that she intended trying to live by her own meager efforts, going out for a few days nursing or to care for some children while their mothers went out to dinner or to the city, to the theater or shopping. There would be but little of that, but perhaps by and by she could manage to make it the fashion. As she looked into the future, she saw herself trudging gloomily down the sunset way into a leaden sky, caring for the brown twins all day while their mother was shopping, while they slept mending stockings out of the big round basket that Mrs. Brown always kept by her sewing chair. Coming home at night to a cheerless house and a solitary meal for which she had no appetite, getting up in the night to go to Grandma Fergus taken down suddenly with one of her attacks, helping Mrs. Smith out with her sewing and spring cleaning. Meneo, monotonous tasks, many of them. Not that she minded that, if they only got somewhere and gave her something from life besides the mere fighting for existence. She looked clear down to the end of her loveless life and saw the neighbors coming virtuously to perform the last rites and wondered why it all had to be.  Her life seemed to have been so without point, so useless heretofore, and all that could yet be how useless and dreary it looked. Her spirit was at its lowest ebb. Her soul was weary unto death. She looked vainly for a break in that solid wall of cloud at the end of the road, and looked so hard that the tears came and fell plashing on the window-seat and on her thin-tired hands. It was because of the tears that she did not see the boy on a bicycle coming down the road, until he vaulted off at the front gate, left his wheel by the curb, and came whistling up the path, pulling a little book and pencil out of his pocket in a business-like way. With a start she brushed the tears away, pushed back the gray hair from her forehead, and made ready to go to the door. It was Johnny Knox, the little boy from the telegraph office. He had made a mistake, of course. There would be no telegram for her. It would likely be for the Kramer's next door. Johnny Knox had not been long in the village and did not know. But Johnny did know. Telegram for Miss Julia Cloud, he announced smartly, flourishing the yellow envelope at her and putting the pencil in her hand. Sign ear, indicating a line in the book. Julia Cloud looked hard at the envelope. Yes, there was her name, though it was against all reason. She could not think of a disaster in life of which it might possibly be the forerunner. Telegrams, of course, meant death or trouble. They had never brought anything else to her. She signed her name with a vague wonder that there was nothing to pay. There had been so many things to pay during the last two painful weeks and her little funds were almost gone.  His whistle lingered far behind, and her ears strained to hear it. Now if a whistle like that were coming home to her, someone who would be glad to see her and want something she could do for him. Why, even little snub-nose impudent Johnny Knox would be a comfort if he were all her own. Her arms suddenly felt empty and her hands idle because there was nothing left for her to do. Involuntarily she stretched them out to the gray dusk with a wistful motion. Then she turned and went back to the window to read her telegram. Dear Cloudy Jewel, Leslie and I are on our way east for a visit, and will stop over Wednesday night to see you. Please make us some caraway cookies if not too much trouble. Your loving nephew, Allison Cloud. A glad smile crept into Julia Cloud's lonely eyes. Leslie and Allison were her California brothers' children, who had spent three happy months with her when they were five and seven while their father and mother went abroad. Cloudy Jewel was the pet name they had made up for her. That was twelve long years ago, and they had not forgotten. They were coming to see her and wanted some caraway cookies. A glad light leaped into her face, and she lifted her eyes to the gray distance. Low the leaden clouds had broken and a streak of pale golden rose was glowing through the bars of gray. End of Chapter 1 Recording by Joy Easton Chapter 2 of Cloudy Jewel Recording by James O'Connor Cloudy Jewel by Grace Livingston Hill Chapter 2 Leslie and Allison Julia Cloud stood gazing out into the west while the whole sky lightened and sank away into dusk with a burning ruby on its breast. The gloom of her spirit glowed into brightness, and Joy flooded her soul. Leslie and Allison, what round little warm bodies they had, and what delicate refined faces. They had not seemed like Ellen's blousy, obstreperous youngsters, practical and grasping to the last extreme after the model of their father. They had starry eyes and hair like tangled sunbeams. They laughed a ripple like Brooks and Summer, and their hands were like bands that bound the heart. Cookies and stories and long walks and picnics. Those had made up the beautiful days that they spent with her. Roaming the woods and meadows, picking dandelions and violets, and playing fairy stories. It had been like a brief return of her old childish days with her boy-comrade. She remembered the heartache and the empty days after they had gone back to their western home, and the little printed childish letters that came for a few months till she was forgotten. But not really forgotten after all, for some link of tenderness must still remain that they should think of her now, after all these years of separation, and want to visit her. They remembered the cookies. She smiled reminiscently. What a batch of delectable cookies she would make in the morning. Why, tomorrow would be Wednesday. They would be here tomorrow night, and there was a great deal to be done. She turned from the belated sunset unregretting, and hastened to begin her preparations. There were the two front rooms upstairs to be prepared. She would open the windows at once and let the air sweep through all night.  But she had brought the invalid downstairs to the little sitting room the last few months to save steps and be always within hearing. The second story had been practically unused except when Ellen or the children were over for a day or two. She hurried upstairs and lit the gas in the two rooms, throwing wide the windows, hunting out fresh sheets and counterpains. She could dust and run the carpet sweeper over the rooms right away and have them in order, and that would save time for tomorrow. Oh, it was good to have something cheerful to do once more. Just supposing she had yielded, as once that afternoon she almost had to Ellen's persistent urges and had gone home with her tonight, why the telegram might not have reached her till after the children had come and found the house empty and gone again. Julia bustled around happily, putting the rooms into charming order, hunting up a little picture of the child's Samuel kneeling in the temple. But Allison used to like going to the bottom of an old hair truck for the rag doll she had made for Leslie to cuddle when she went to sleep at night. Mrs. Ambrose Perkins across the way looked uneasily out of her bedroom window at half past nine and said to her husband, seems like Julia Child is staying up awful late tonight. She's got a light in both front rooms too. There can't be company. I suppose Ellen and some of her children have stayed down after all. Poor Ellen. She told me she simply couldn't spare the time away from home any longer. But Julia was set on staying there. I never thought Julia was selfish. But I suppose she doesn't realize how hard it is for Ellen living that way between two houses. Julia go to live with Ellen now, of course. It's real good of Herbert Robinson to ask her. Julia to appreciate having relatives like that. Relatives nothing said Mr. Ambrose pulling off his coat and hanging it over a chair. She'll be a fool if she goes. She's slaved all her life and she deserves a little rest now. If she goes out to Herbert Robinson, she won't be allowed to call her eyelash as her own. You mock my words. Well, what else can she do, said his wife. She hasn't any husband or children and I think she'll be mighty well off to get a good home. Men are awful hard on each other, Ambrose. I always knew that. Julia cloud, meanwhile, with the last look at the neat rooms, put out her lights and went to bed, but not to sleep. She was so excited that the darkness seemed luminous about her.  Allison was nineteen and Leslie nearly seventeen now.  Their guardian was an old gentleman, a friend of their mother's. That was about all she knew concerning them. Would they seem like strangers, she wondered? Or would there be enough resemblance to recall the dear girl and boy of the years that were gone? How she clung to those cookies with hope. There was some remembrance left, but they would not have put cookies in a telegram. How impetuous and just like Allison, the boy, that telegram had sounded. It was scarcely daylight when Julia cloud arose and went down to the kitchen to bake the cookies, and the preparations she made for baking pies and donuts and other twosome dainties would lead one to suppose that she was expecting to feed a regiment for a week at least. She filled the day with hard work as she had been wont to do, and never once thought of gray sunsets or dreary futures. Not even the thought of her sister Ellen come to trouble her as she put the house in order. Filled her pantry with good things to eat, and set the table for three with all the best things the house afforded. At evening she stood once more beside the front window, looking out sunset wood. There was nothing gray about either sky or road or landscape now. There had been brilliant sunshine all day long, and the sky lay mellow and yellow behind the orchard, with a clear, transparent greenish blue above, and a hint of rosy light in the long rays that reached their fingers along the ground between the apple trees. In a few minutes evening train would be in, and there would be rose in the sunset. She knew the signs, and the sky would be glorious tonight. They would see it as they came from the train. In fifteen minutes it would be time for her to put on her hat and go down to meet them, how her heart throbbed with anticipation. Four bonings came to shadow her brightness. Suppose they should not come. Suppose they were delayed, or had changed their minds and should send another telegram saying so. She drew a deep breath and tried to brace herself for the shock of the thought. She looked carefully down the road for possible Johnny Knox beating along with another telegram, and was relieved to see only Ambrose Perkins ambling home for supper, followed by his tall, smiling Airdale. There was a shadow, too, that stood behind her, though she ignored it utterly. It was the thought of the afterwards, when the two bright young things had been and gone, and she would have to face the gray in her life again without the rose. But that would be afterwards, and this was now. Ten minutes more and she would go to the station. At that minute a great blue automobile shot up to the front gate and stopped. A big lump flew into Julia Cloud's throat and her hand went to her hut. Had it then come, that telegram, saying they had changed their minds? She stood trembling by the window, unable to move.  A tall boy and a little girl, just as the sun dropped low and swung a deep red light into the sky, flooding the front yard with glory, and staining the heavens far up into the blue. They had come. They had come before it was yet train time. Julia Cloud got herself to her front door in a trimmer of delight, and instantly four strong young arms encircled her, and nearly smothered the life out of her. Oh, you dear cloudy jewel, you look just the same. I knew you would.  Sure she is just the same. What did I tell you, cried Allison, lifting them both and carrying them inside. Now, who on earth can that be? said Mrs. Ambrose Perkins, flying to her pile of window at the first sound of the automobile. It isn't any of them folks from the city that were out to the funeral, but there wasn't a car like that there. I'm certain. I mean to run over and borrow a spoonful of soda pretty soon just to find out. It couldn't be any of Tom's folks from out west, but they couldn't come all that way in a car. It must be some of her father's relations from over in Maryland, though I never heard they were that well off. A chauffeur in livery. The idea of all that style coming to see Julia Cloud. No, we didn't come on the train, explained Leslie eagerly. We came in Allison's new car. Mr. Luddington, that's our guardian, was coming east, and he said we might come with him. We've been dying to come for ages, and he'd been promising Allison he might get this new car. So he stopped in the city and bought it, and Allison drove it down. Of course, Mr. Luddington made his van come along. He wouldn't let us come alone.  Leslie was talking as fast as an express train, and Julia Cloud stood and admired her in wonder. She was slim and delicately pretty as ever, with the same mop of goldy brown curls, done up in a knot now, and making her look quaintly like the little five-year-old on the hot day with her curls, twisted on the top of her head for comfort. She wore a simple little straight frock of some dark silk stuff, with beaded pockets of marvelous pleats and belts and straps in unexpected places, such as one sees in fashion books, but not on young girls in the town of Sterling, and her hat was a quail little cap with a knob of bright beads, wonderfully becoming, but quite different from anything that Julia Cloud had ever seen before. Her movements were darting and quick like a humming birds, and she wore long, soft, suede loves and tiny high suede boots. The older woman watched her, fascinated. Are you sure we're not being an inconvenience dropping down upon you in this unexpected way? asked Allison, in a quite grown-up man's voice, and looking so tall and handsome and responsible, that Julia Cloud wanted to take him in her arms and hug him to make sure he was the same little boy she used to tuck into bed at night. So soon after Grandma's death, too, put in Allison. We didn't know, of course, till we got about a mile from Sterling and stopped to ask the way to the house, and a man told us about the funeral being Monday. We weren't sure then, but it would be an intrusion. You see, we left California about two weeks ago, and none of our mail has reached us yet, so we hadn't heard.  There aren't assured them rapturously that their coming was the most blessed thing that could have been just at this time. Oh, then I'm relieved, said Leslie, throwing off her hat and dropping into the nearest chair. Allison, tell that man to put the car somewhere in a garage and get back to the city. They said there was a train back about this time. The man who directed us told us so. No, dear, he doesn't need any dinner. He's not used to it till seven, and he'll be in the city by that time. He's in a hurry to get back. Cookies? Well, yes, you might give him a cookie or two if you're sure there'll be enough left for us. I've just dreamed of those cookies all these years. I'm so anxious to see if they'll taste as they did when I was a child. May I come with you and see if I remember where the cookie jar is? Oh, joy, Allison, just look. A whole crock and a jar full. Isn't this peachy? Allison, do hustle up and get that man off so we can begin our visit. It was like having a couple of dolls suddenly come alive and begin to talk. They talked so fast and they took everything so delightfully for granted that Julia Cloud was in a tremble of joy. It seemed the most beautiful thing in the world that these two strong, handsome, vivid young things should have dropped into her life and taken her into their hearts in this way as if she really belonged, as if they loved her. She was too excited to talk. She hardly knew what to do first, but they did not wait for her initiative. Allison was off with his car in his van, munching cookies as he went and promising to return in fifteen minutes hungry as a bear.  I'm crazy to see if I remember things. There was a little red chair that I used to sit in. It's here in your room, dear, and the old ragdoll Betsy. Do you remember her? Well, I should say I did. Is Betsy alive yet? Dear old Betsy, how ducky of you to have kept her for me all these years. Oh, isn't it perfectly peachy that we could come? That we really hear it last and you want us.  You're sure you do.  But what she saw there was fully satisfactory, because she smiled and rattled joyfully on in the old babbling Brooke voice that reminded one so of years ago. I'm not to tell you what we've really come for till Allison comes, because I promised. In any way he's the man, and he wants to tell you himself. But it's the dandiest reason, perfectly peachy. It's really a plan. And say, Cloudy dear, won't you promise me right here and now that you will say yes to what he asked you if you possibly, possibly can. Julia Cloud promised in a maze of delight.  Remembering how she used to comb those tangled curls with the plump little body, leaning sturdily against her knee. It seemed to be the first time since she was a child that youth and beauty had come to linger before her. All her experience had been of sickness and suffering and death, not life and happiness. There was stewed chicken and little biscuits with gravy for supper. It was a dish the children used to love. It was all dished up and everything ready when Allison came back.  Allison was so glad to be back that he had to take his aunt in his arms again and give her a regular bear hug till she pleaded for mercy. But there was a happy light in her eyes and a bright color in her cheeks when he released her that made her a very good looking aunt indeed to sit down at the table with two such handsome children. Just at that moment, Ellen Robinson in her own home was pouring her husband's second cup of coffee. Don't you think I better take the car and run down for Julia before dark, she said? I think she'll be about ready to come back with me by this time, and I need her early in the morning if I'm going to begin cleaning house. Better wait one more night, said Herbert Stolledly. Let her get her fill of staying alone nights. It'll do her good. We don't want her to be high and mighty when she gets here. I'm boss here and she's got to understand that. She's so mighty independent, you know, it's important she should find that out right at the start. I'm not going to have her get bossy with these children either. They aren't her children. Four pairs of keen little Robinson eyes took in this saying with quick intelligence, and four stolid sets of shoulders straightened up importantly with four uplifted saucy chins. They would store these remarks away for future reference when the odd in question arrived on the scene. They would come in well, they knew, but they had had experience with her in times past. Aunt Julie ain't going to boss me, swaggered the youngest, nor me neither, nor me. I guess she wouldn't dash try it on me, boasted the eldest. End of Chapter 2, recording by James O'Connor, Randolph, Massachusetts, February 2011. Chapter 3 of Cloudy Jewel. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by James O'Connor. Cloudy Jewel by Grace Livingston Hill, Chapter 3. You haven't asked us what we came for, opened up Allison, as soon as everybody was served with chicken, mashed potato, succotash, stewed tomatoes, biscuits, pickles, and applesauce. I thought you came for cookies, said Julia Cloud, with the mischievous twinkle in her gray eyes. Hung one on me, didn't you, said Allison, laughing? But that wasn't all, guess again. Perhaps you came to see me, she suggested shyly. Right you are, but that's not all either. That wouldn't last much longer than the cookies. Guess again. Oh, I couldn't, said Julia Cloud, growing suddenly stricken with the thought of their going. I give it up. Well, then I'll tell you. You see, we've come east to college, both of us. Of course, I've had my freshman year, but the kid's just entering. We haven't decided which college it's to be yet, but it's to be co-ed. We know that much, because we're tired of being separated. When one hasn't put two in the family, and has been apart for five years, one appreciates a home. I tell you that. And so we've decided we want a home. We're not just going to college to live there in the usual way. We're going to take a house, live like real folks, and go to school every day. We want a fireplace and a cookie jar of our own. A place to bring our friends and have good times. But most of all, we want a mother. And we've come all this way to coax you to come and live with us. Playhouse, you know, as you used to do down on the mossy rocks, with broken bits of china for dishes, and acorns for cups and saucers. Playhouse, and you be mother. When you do it, Cloudy Jewel, it means a whole lot to us. And we'll try to play fair and make you have a good time.  Me, she said, wonderingly, you want me? We sure do, said Allison. Indeed we do, Cloudy dear. That's just what we do want, cried Leslie, jumping up and running around to Iran's chair to embrace her excitedly. And you promised, you know, that you would do what we wanted if you possibly, possibly could. You see, we put it up to our guardian about the house, went on Allison, and he said the difficulty would be to get the right kind of a housekeeper that he could trust us with. Of course he's way off in California, and he has to be fussy. He's built that way. But we told him we didn't want any housekeeper at all, we wanted a mother. He said you couldn't pick mothers off trees. But we told him we knew where there was one if we could only get her. So he let us come and ask. And if you say you'll do it, he's coming down to see you and fix it up about the money pot. He said you'd have to have a regular salary, or he wouldn't consider it, because there were things he'd have to insist upon that he had promised mother. And if there wasn't a business arrangement about it, he wouldn't know what to do. Besides, he said it was worth a lot to run a couple of roughnecks like less than me, and he'd make the salary all right so you could afford to leave whatever you were doing, and just give you a time to mothering us. Now it's up to you, cloudy jewel, to help us out with our proposition, or spoil everything, because we simply won't have a housekeeper, and we don't know another real mother in the whole world that hasn't a family of her own. They both left their delicious dinner and got around her, coaxing and weedling exactly as if she had already declined, when the truth was she was two days with joy to open her lips, even if they had given her opportunity to speak. It was some time before the excitement quieted down, and they gave her a chance to say she would go. Even then she spoke the words with fear and trembling, as one might step off a commonplace threshold, into a fairy palace. Not sure, but it might be stepping into space. Outside the sky was still flooded with after sunset glory, but there was so much glory in the hearts of the three inside the dining room that they never noticed it at all. It might have been raining or hailing, and they would not have known. They were so happy. Both the guests donned long gingham aprons and wiped the dishes when the meal was over, both talking with all their might, recalling the days of their childhood when they had had towels pinned around them, and been allowed to dry the cups and pans, then suddenly jumping ahead and planning what they would do in the dear new home of the future. They were all three as excited about it as if they had been a bridal couple planning for their honeymoon. We should want five bedrooms, said Leslie decidedly. I've thought that all out, one for each of us and two guest rooms, so we can have a boy and a girl home for overnight with us as often as we want to, and there simply must be a fireplace, or we won't take the house. If there isn't the right kind of a house in town, we'll choose some other college. There are plenty of colleges, but you can have only one home, and it must be the right kind. Then of course we want a big kitchen, where we can make fudges often as we choose in the evenings, and a dining room with a bay window, with seats and flowers and a canary. Cloudy jewel, you don't mind cats do you? I want two at least.  You won't mind will you? Suddenly Julia Cloud discovered that, latent in her heart all these years, there had also lain a desire for a cat and a dog, and she lifted guilty eyes and confessed it. She felt a pang of remembrance, as she recalled how her mother used so often to tell her she was nothing but an old child. Perhaps your guardian will not think me a proper person to chaperone you, she suggested in sudden alarm. Well, he'd just better not, declared Alice in bristling up. I'd like to know where he could find a better. I've never been in society, said Julia Cloud thoughtfully. I don't know social ways much, and I've never been considered to have any dignity or good judgment. That's just why we like you, Chorus of Children. You've never grown up and got dull and stiff and pokey like most grown folks. We were so afraid, began Leslie, putting a loving arm about her aunt's waist, that you would have changed since we were children. We talked it all over on the way here. We had a kind of eyebrow code by which we could let each other know what we thought about it without y'all seeing us. We were to lift one eyebrow, the right one, if we were favorably impressed, and draw down the left if we were disappointed. But in case we were sure both eyebrows were to go up. And of course we were sure you were just the same dear the minute we laid eyes on you. And all four of our eyebrows went high as they'd go the first instant. Didn't you notice, Allison? His eyebrows were almost up to his hair, and they pulled his eyes so wide open they were perfectly round like saucers. As for me, I think mine went way up under my hair. I'm not sure if they've got back to their natural place even yet. And Leslie laid a rosy finger over her brow and felt anxiously along the delicate velvety line.  He'll get it in the morning when he reaches Boston, and then he needn't fuss and fume any longer about what he's going to do with us. Besides, I like to have the bog and clinch somehow, and a telegram will do it. Allison slammed out of the house noisily to the extreme confusion of Mrs. Ambrose Perkins, who hadn't been able to eat her supper properly for watching the house to see what would happen next. Who could that young man be? She simply couldn't get a clue, for when she went over for the soda though she knocked several times and heard voices upstairs and altogether unseemly laughed her for a house where there had just been a funeral, not a soul came to the door. Could it be that Julia Cloud heard her and stayed upstairs on purpose? She felt that as the nearest neighbor and a great friend of Ellen's it would be rather expected of her to find out what was going on. She resolutely refrained from lighting the power lamp and took up her station at the dark window to watch, but although she sat there until after 10 o'clock she was utterly unable to find out anything except that the household across the way stayed up very late and there were lights in both front rooms again. She felt that if nothing developed by morning she would just have to get Ambrose to hitch up and drive out to Ellen's, Ellen ought to know. But Julia Cloud was serenely unconscious of this espionage. She had entered an Eden of bliss and was too happy to care about anything else. Seated on the big old couch in the palla with a child on either side of her, a hand in each of hers, often a head on each shoulder nestling down, they talked, planned and talked. Now the brother would break in with some tale of his school days. Now the sister would add a bit of reminiscence, just as if they had been storing it all up to tell her. The joyous happiness of them all seemed like heaven dropped down to earth. It was as she had sometimes dreamed mothers might talk with their own children, and God had granted this unspeakable gift to her. Was it real? Would it last? Or was she only dreaming? Once it vaguely passed through her mind that she would not be sure of the reality of the whole thing until she had seen Ellen. If she could talk with Ellen about it, tell her what she was going to do, show her the children, and then come back and find it all the same, it would last. But somehow she shrank unspeakably from seeing Ellen. She could not get away from the feeling that Ellen would dispel it all, that some way, somehow, she would succeed in breaking up all the bright plans and scattering them like soap bubbles in the wind. Nevertheless it was a very beautiful illusion, if illusion it was, and one to be prolonged as late as possible. She was horrified when at last she heard the rebuking strokes of the town clock, ten, eleven. Well, she started to her feet ashamed, and even then they would not let her go to bed at once. She must turn out the lights and sit in the hall between their rooms as she did long ago, and tell the story of the little red hen, just as she had told it night after night when they were children. It was characteristic of the unfailing youth of the woman that she entered into the play with zest. Attired in a long kimono, with her beautiful white hair and two long silver braids down over her shoulders, she sat in the dark and told the story with the same vivid language.   The two big children were asleep at last, and Julia Cloud stole to her own bed to lie in a tumult of wonder and joy, and finally sink into a light slumber, wherein she dreamed that she had fallen air to a rose garden, and all the roses were alive and could talk, until Ellen came driving up in her Ford and ran right over them, crushing them down and cutting their heads off with a long sharp whip she carried, but somehow turned out to be made of words strung together with fighting sarcasm. She awoke in the broad morning sunlight to find both children done up in bath robes and slippers, sitting one each side of her on the bed, laughing at her and tickling her chin with a feather from the seam of the pillow. Now, cloudy jewel, you've just got to begin to make plans, announced Leslie, curling up in a ball at her feet and looking very business-like with her fluffy curls around her face, like a golden fleece. There isn't much time, and Guardie Ludd will be down upon us by tomorrow or the next day at least. Guardie Ludd exclaimed Julia Cloud bewildered. Who is that? That's our pet name for Mr. Luddington, explained Leslie, wrinkling up her nose in the grin of merriment. Isn't it cute? Wait till you see him and you'll see how it fits. He's round and bald with a shiny red nose and spectacles, and he doesn't mind our kidding at all. He'd have made a lovely father if he wasn't married, but he has a horrid wife. We don't like her at all.  She doesn't like us any better than we like her. Her name is Alita, and Allison says we are always trying to elude her. The only good thing she ever did was to advise Guardie Ludd to let us come east to college. She wanted to get us as far away from her as possible, and it certainly was mutual. There now, Leslie, you're chattering again, broken Allison, looking very tall and efficient in his blue bathrobe. You said you would talk business and not bleep. Well, so I am, powdered Leslie. I guess Cloudy has got to understand about our family. Well, now let's get down to business, said her brother.  You know, it isn't very long before the college is open, and we've got to start out and hunt a home right away. Do you have to pack up here or anything? Oh, I don't know, Gas Julia Cloud, looking around half-brightened. I suppose I ought to ask Ellen. She will be very much opposed to anything I do, but I suppose she ought to be told first. Allison frowned. Gee whiz, I don't see why Aunt Ellen has to butt into our affairs. She's got her own home and family, and she never did like us very much. I remember hearing her tell Grandma that we were a regular nuisance, and she would be glad when we were gone back to California. That was because you hid behind the sofa when Uncle Herbert was courting her and kitted them, giggled Leslie. A stray little twinkle of a dimple peaked out by the corner of Julia Cloud's mouth. It hadn't been out for a number of years, and she knew she ought not to laugh at such pranks now. But it was so funny to think of Herbert Robinson being kitted in the midst of his courting. The dimple started the lights dancing in Leslie's eyes. There, now you dear old Jew, you know you don't want to talk to Aunt Ellen about us. She'll just mess things all up. Let's just do things, and get them all fixed up. And then tell her when it's too late for her to make a fuss. Gurgle Leslie down close to Julia's ear, finishing up with a delicious bear hug. I suppose you'll be mortally offended, Mermaid Julia Cloud, in troubled hesitancy. Well, suppose she is. She'll get over it, won't she, growled Allison?  I guess you're older than she is, aren't you? I guess you've got a right to do as you please, haven't you? And you do want to go with us, don't you? His voice was anxious.  They smothered her in kisses, compliments, and assurances, and it was some time before the conversation swung around again to the important subject of the morning. You don't have to do anything to the house, but just shut it up, do you, asked Allison, looking anxiously about in a helpless, vanish way. Because if you do, we ought to be getting to work. There's a man over at Harmony Village that wanted to rent a house here, said Julia Cloud thoughtfully. I might write a letter to him. I don't know whether he's found anything or not. He's the new superintendent of the high school. But it's time we got dressed and had breakfast. Write to him nothing, said Allison eagly. I'll get the car and we'll drive over to Harmony in no time and get the thing fixed up.  We don't need to wait for breakfast. We can eat cookies. Hurry, everybody. And he slammed over to his own womb and began to stir about noisily. Julia Cloud arose and made a hasty toilet with a bright spot of excitement on each cheek. But she had no time to think what Ellen would say. While she meant that these children should have a real old-time breakfast before they began the day. And now that she was up, her little round black clock on the bureau told her that it was high time the day had begun. She looked fearfully out of the window, half expecting to see Ellen's Ford bobbing down the hill already, and then hurried down to the kitchen. Allison soon came down, calling out to her to be ready when he came back with the car. But the delicious odors that had already begun to float out from the old kitchen made him lenient toward the idea of breakfast. And when he came back with the full cut-out roaring the announcement of his arrival to the Perkinses, he was quite ready to wait a few minutes and eat some of Julia Cloud's flapjacks and sausages with maple syrup and applesauce. Julia Cloud herself ate little. She was in a trimmer of delightful uncertainty and dread, ought she to go ahead this way and manage her own affairs, leaving her own sister out of the question. But then, if she consulted with Ellen, that meant consulting with Herbert, for Herbert ran his wife most thoroughly, and Herbert could make things very unpleasant when he took the trouble. So, when the children, unable at last to eat any more, pleaded with her to leave the dishes and go to see the man about the house at once, she gave one swift apprehensive glance about and ascended. If Ellen should come to the house while they were away and should look in at the window, and see the breakfast dishes standing, it would be appalling. But as the children said, why worry? Somehow she felt like a little school girl playing hooky, as she carefully drew down the dining room and kitchen window shades that looked on the back porch, and locked the front door behind her. Well, perhaps she had her in the right to take this bit of a holiday and wash her dishes when she liked. Anyhow, hadn't God sent these blessed children to her in answer to her earnest prayer that he would show her what to do, and save her if possible, from having to spend the remainder of her days under Herbert Robinson's roof. Well, then she would just accept it that way and be grateful, at least until he showed her otherwise. So she drew a long breath of delight, and climbed into the luxurious back seat of the great blue car, utterly oblivious of the prying eyes behind the polar shade across the way. End of Chapter 3, Recording by James O'Connor, Randolph, Massachusetts, February 2011 Chapter 4 of Cloudy Jewel This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Recording by James O'Connor Cloudy Jewel by Grace Livingston Hill, Chapter 4 Down the little village street past the station and across the railroad toward Harmony swept the great blue car, with the villagers turning to stare at Miss Cloud taking a ride so early in the morning in so gaudy a car so soon after the funeral, and even without a veil. A few minutes later, Ellen and her Ford rattled up to the door and got out with the air of one who had come to do things. She walked confidently up to the front door and tried it, rattled it, knocked, and then went angrily around to the back, trying all the doors and windows. Mrs. Perkins from her pile of window watched a minute, and when she saw Ellen come around to the front again and look up at the second story, she threw a shawl around her shoulders, and ran across the street to impart faithfully her story. For the land's sake, said Ellen indignantly, what can Julia be about? Mother always said she never would grow up, and I believe it. I was afraid when I went away she had some scheme in her mind. She's always getting up full ideas. I remember that time when Mrs. Marsh died, she wanted to adopt the twins and bring them up. The idea, when there was a county poor house, and no reason why they shouldn't go to it, but she'll have to come down off her independence and be sensible. Herbert says we can't have any of her foolishness. It's us that would have to suffer if she got into trouble and lost what little she's got, and I suppose I've got to have it out with a once and for all and get this thing settled. It's getting on all our nerves, and I've got the fall house cleaning and jelly to do, and I can't fool around any longer. Well, I suppose I'd better try to get into this house. Have you got any keys that might fit? Mrs. Perkins hurried over for all her keys, including trunk keys, and soon they had tried every door and every key with no effect, and had to call in the youngest Perkins and boost him up to the upper hall window. Under the guise of looking after Julia Cloud, the two good ladies invaded a home and proceeded to investigate. The parlor in the hall gave forth no secrets, except for a couple of handsome raincoats slung carelessly upon chairs. But the dining room—oh, the dining room— if Julia Cloud could have seen their faces as they swung open that carefully closed door and stood upon the threshold aghast, looking at the wreck of the breakfast, she would have cringed and shivered even on her way to harmony. But Julia Cloud could not see. She was safely over the bridge and out on the highway, where she would not be likely to be followed. And the wine of the morning was rising in her veins. Such wonderful air, such clear blue sky and flying clouds. She felt like a flying cloud herself, as she sped along in the great blue cow with the chatter of the children in her ears, and the silvery laughter of Leslie by her side.  The thought did come to her, but she knew by the thrill of her heart that her mother in heaven was gladder now than she had been for years of her bedridden life on earth. And if she could look down to sea, would no doubt be happy that some joy was coming to her hard work daughter at last. Julia would just enjoy this day and this delight to the full while it lasted. If it was not meant to last longer than the day, at least she would have this wonderful ride to remember always. This bird-like motion, as if she were floating through a panorama. Not a thought of Ellen poking through her half-cleared house, finding unswept hearth and unmade beds and unwashed dishes came to trouble her joy. It was if the childhood of her life, long held in abeyance, had come back to her and would not be denied. Ellen and Mrs. Perkins, in their inspection of the house, came at last to the upper story, and the guest room strewn with brushes bearing silver monograms and elaborate appointments of travel. That kept them guessing their use and exclaiming in wonder and horror that anyone would spend so much on little details. Leslie's charming silk negligee and her frilly little nightgown with its lace and floating ribbons came in for a large amount of contempt. And it was some time before the good ladies arrived at Julia Cloud's room and found the open telegram on her bureau that gave the key to the mystery of the two visitors. Said Ellen, so that's it. Well, I thought she had some bee in her body. She must have written to them or they never would have come. Now, I suppose she means to keep them all winter, perhaps, and feed them and baby them up. And when she has spent all she has, she'll come back on this. Well, she'll find out she's much mistaken. And when she gets back, I'll just tell her plainly that she can bundle up her company and send them home and come out to us now, today or tomorrow, or the offer is withdrawn. And she'd need to think she can fall back on Herbert either when she's spent everything. Herbert is not a man to be put up on. I should say not, said Mrs. Perkins sympathetically looking over her friend's shoulder at the telegram. So those wee brothers two children, he must have been pretty well off of them to have a car like that. I must say, I think it's a harm to children to be brought up wealthy. Their mother was rich, said Ellen sourly. It had always been a thorn in her flesh. She was a stob too, and her children will likely be the limit by this time.  They sat in Julia Cloud's parlour, one at each window, discussing the probabilities until half past eleven. And Ellen said she must go. She positively couldn't wait another minute, but she would return in the afternoon, and Mrs. Perkins must tell her sister that she was coming and wanted her to remain at home, that it was very important. I'll settle her, she said, where their thin lips set in a hard line, then she stooped to crank her forward. Mrs. Perkins watched her away, then hurried to her own neglected work, and ten minutes later the big blue car sailed noiselessly up to the place. It was not until the Perkins children discovered it, and told their mother that she knew it had arrived. This was very annoying. She had wanted to catch them quite casually on their arrival, and now she would have to make a special errand over, and as likely as not have them not come to the door again. Besides, she was getting dinner, and things were likely to burn. Nevertheless, she dared not wait with that big blue car standing so capably at the door, ready to spirit them away again at any moment. She wiped her hands on her apron, grabbed a teacup for an excuse, and ran over to borrow that soda once more. Peels of lobster were echoing through the old house when she knocked at the door, and a regular Russian scramble was going on, so unseemly just after a funeral. The door was on the latch, too, as if they did not care who heard, and to save a life she couldn't help pushing it a little with her foot, just enough to see in. And there was Julia Cloud, her white hair awry, and her face rosy with mirth, an ear of corn in one hand, and a knife in the other, being carried, yes, actually carried, across the dining room in the arms of a tall young man, and deposited firmly on the big old couch. There, Cloudy Jewel, you'll lie right there and rest while Leslie and I get lunch. You're all tired out. I can see it in your eyes, and we can't afford to let you stay so. No, we don't need any succotash for lunch or dinner, either. I know it's good, but we haven't time now, and we aren't going to let you work, announce the young man joyously, as he towered above her lying quiescent and weak with laughter. No, no, you aren't going to wash the dishes either, gurgle the young girl who danced behind the young man. Allison and I will wash them all while you take a nap, and then we're going to ride again. Julia Cloud, her eyes bright with the joy of all this loving playfulness, tried to protest, but suddenly into the midst of this tumble came Mrs. Perkins' rackious assertion. The two young people whirled around alertly, and Julia Cloud sat up with a wild attempt to bring her hair into subjection as she recognized her neighbor. The color flooded into her sweet face, but she rose with gentle dignity. Oh, Mrs. Perkins, we must have been making such a noise that we didn't hear your knock, she said. As a matter of fact, Mrs. Perkins hadn't knocked. She had been led on by curiosity until she stood in the open dining room door, ranked disapproval written on her face. It did seem a good bit of noise for a house of mourning, said Mrs. Perkins dryly. Julia Cloud's sweet eyes suddenly lost their smile, and she drew herself up ever so little. There was just a ripple of a quiver of virginal lips, and she said quite quietly and with a dignity that could not help impressing her color. This is not a house of mourning, Mrs. Perkins. I don't think my dear mother would want us to mourn because she was released from a bed of pain where she had lain for nine long years and gone to heaven where she could be young and free and happy. I'm glad for her, just as glad as I can be, and I know she would want me to be.  Mrs. Perkins, this is my niece and nephew, Leslie and Alison Cloud from California. I guess you remember them when they were little children, or no, you hadn't moved here yet when they were here. Mrs. Perkins with pursed lips acknowledged the introduction distantly. One might almost say insolently, and turned her back on them as if they had been little children. Yeah, sister's been here all morning waiting for you, she said, accusingly. She gave a significant glance of the unwashed breakfast dishes, only part of which had been removed to the kitchen. She couldn't imagine where you'd gone at that hour, and left your beds and your dishes. A wave of indignation swept over Julia Cloud's sweet face. So you have been in my house during my absence, she said quietly. That seems strange since Ellen has no key. There was nothing in her voice to indicate rebuke, but Mrs. Perkins got very red. I suppose your own sister has a right to get into the house where she was born, she snapped. Oh, of course, said Julia Cloud pleasantly, and Ellen used to be a good climber before she got so fat. I suppose she climbed in the second-story window, although I hadn't realized she could. However, it doesn't matter. I suppose you have had to leave your dishes and beds once in a while when you were called away on business. You have a cup there. Did you want to borrow something? Mrs. Perkins was one of those people who are never quite aware of it when they are in a corner, but she felt most uncomfortable, especially as she caught a stifled giggle from Allison, who bolted into the pallor hastily, and began noisily to turn over the pages of a book on the table, but she managed to ask for a soda, and get herself out of the house. Thank you for bringing my sister's message called Julia Cloud after, she never could quite bear to be unpleasant, even to a prying neighbor. The Mrs. Perkins, through the years, had managed to make herself unpleasant many times. The old cat, said Leslie, in a clear, caring voice. Why did you thank her, Auntie Jewel? She didn't deserve it. Hush, Leslie dear, she will hear you, said Julia Cloud, hastily closing the door on the last words. I hope she did, said Leslie comfortably. I meant she should. But, dearie, that isn't right. It isn't Christian, said her aunt in distress. Then I know Christian, chanted Leslie mischievously. Why isn't it right? I'd like to know. Isn't she an old cat? But you heard a feelings, dear. I'm afraid I was to blame, too. I didn't answer her any too sweetly myself. Well, didn't she hurt yours first, sweet, while you were honey itself? Cloudy, dear, thanking her for her old prying. I hope it's the kind of honey that gets bitter after you swallow it, growled Allison, coming out of the palla. If she'd said much more, I'd just have put her out of the house, talking to you like that, as if you were a little child, Cloudy. Why, children, that didn't really hurt me any. It just stirred up my temper a little. When I'm ashamed that I let it, and I don't want you to talk like that, it isn't a bit right. It distresses me to have you think it's right to answer back that way and take vengeance on people. Well, there, Cloudy, let's lay that subject on the table for some of our night talks, and you can scold us all you like. We have a lot of work to do now, and let's forget the old pry. Now, you lie down on that couch where I put you, and Leslie and I'll wash these dishes. Julia Cloud lay obediently on the couch, but her mind was not at rest. She was in a tumult of indignation at a prying neighbor, and an uncertainty of anxiety about Ellen, and what she might do next. But beneath it all was a vague fear about these her dear children who were about to become her responsibility. Could she do it? Dare'd she do it? How differently they had been brought up from all the traditions which had controlled her life. Take, for instance, that matter of Christianity. How would they feel about it? Would they be in sympathy with their ideas and ideals of right and wrong? They were no longer little children to obey her. They would have ideas of their own, yes, and ideals. Would there be constant clashing? Would she be haunted with a feeling that she was not doing her duty by them? There were so many questions, amusements, and Sabbath and church going, and how to treat other people, and doubtless she was old fashioned, and they would chafe under her rule. Take the little matter of Leslie's calling Mrs. Perkins a cat. She was a cat, but Leslie ought not to have told her so. It wasn't polite when it wasn't Christian. And yet how could she, plain Julia Cloud, who had never been anywhere much outside of her hometown, who had had no opportunity for study or wide reading, and who had only worked quietly all her life, and thought her plain little thoughts of love to God and to her neighbors? Be able to explain all those things to this pair of lovable, uncontrolled children, who had always had their own way, and whose ideals were the ideals of the great wide, un-Christian world?  When the children, tiptoeing about and whispering, came to peek in at the door and see whether she was asleep, they discovered her expression at once, and drawing near sight of the tear, then they went down upon their knees beside her couch, and noisily demanded the cause thereof. Little by little, they grew her fears from her. Why, Cloudy dear, we'll do what you want. We'll let all the old cats in the community walk over you if that will make you happy, declared Leslie patting her face. No, we won't put analysis. We'll keep them away from her, but we won't let them know how we despise them. Won't that do, Cloudy? And as for all those other things you're afraid about, why couldn't you just wait till we come to them? We're anything but angels, I admit. But we're going to try to do what you want us to, if it busts the eye-teeth out of us, because we want you. And you always have been such a good scout. As for the church dope and all that, why it's like that guy in the Bible you used to tell us about when we were children. Well, was she a lady? It's a case of, Thy people shall be my people, and Thy God my God. Well, words to that effect. If we don't agree on our own account, we'll do it because you want it. Isn't that about the idea? Wouldn't that fill the bill?  I don't know how anybody could promise more than that. I wasn't afraid of you, it was myself. You know I'm not at all wise, and it's pretty late in life for me to begin to bring up children.  So it's up to you to do it the best you can, or it won't get done. Come on now, we've got lunch ready. There's cold chicken and bread and milk and pie and cake, and I've got the tea kettle boiling like a house of fire. So if you want any tea or anything, you can have it. So they had a merry meal, and Julia Cloud ate and laughed with them and thought she never had been so happy since she was a little girl. Then mindful of her prying neighbor and her imminent sister, she insisted on putting the house in order to the last bed and dish before she was ready for the afternoon. And now we're going to call on Aunt Ellen, Annelt Stalison, as Julia Cloud hung up the clean dish towels steaming from their scalding bath and washed her hands at the sink. Why, she's coming here, said his aunt, whirling around with a troubled look. And as she's left word she was coming, I suppose we'll have to wait for her. It's too bad, for she won't be here till three, and it's only a quarter of two. I'm sorry, because you wanted to go out in the car, didn't you? We're going, said Alison again, with a commanding twinkle in his eye. We can't waste all that time, and besides, don't you see if she comes here? She'll likely stay all the afternoon and argue. If we go there, we can come away when we like, and she'll feel we're more polite to come to her anyhow, won't she, Cloudy? Julia Cloud looked into the boy's convincing eyes, and her trouble cleared away. Perhaps he was right. Anyhow, why should they spoil a whole day to conciliate Ellen? Ellen would be disagreeable about it however they did, and they might as well rise above it, and just be pleasant and let it go with that. It was the first time in her long life of self-sacrifice that Julia Cloud had been able to rise above her anxiety about her sister's tantrums and go calmly on her way. It is scarcely likely that she would have managed it now if it hadn't been that she felt that Alison and Leslie ought not to be sacrificed. She never did anything just for herself. It was not in her. All right, she said briskly, glancing at the clock. Then we must go at once, or we shall miss her. I'll be ready in five minutes. How about you, Leslie? Oh, I'm ready now, said the girl, patting her curly hair into shape before the old mahogany-framed mirror in the hall. In five minutes more they were stowed away in the big blue car again, speeding down the road, with Mrs. Perkins indignantly and openly watching them from her front porch. We put one over on Mrs. Pry, didn't we, we, Cloudy, said Alison, turning around to wink a naughty eye back toward the Perkins' house. She thinks you've dared to run away after she gave you orders to stay at home. Julia Cloud could not suppress a smile of enjoyment and wondered whether she was getting childish that she should be so happy with these children. Into Chapter 4 Recording by James O'Connor Randolph, Massachusetts February 2011 Chapter 5 Cloudy Jewel This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Read by Elizabeth Wilcox. Cloudy Jewel by Grace Livingston Hill. Chapter 5 The air was fine, the sky was clear without a cloud, and the spice of autumn flavored everything. Along the roadside, Blackberry vines were turning scarlet, and here and there in the distance, a flaming branch proclaimed the approach of a frosty wooing. One could not ask anything better on such a day than to be speeding along this white velvet road in the great blue car with two beloved children. But all too soon, Herbert Robinson's ornate house loomed up stock and green with very white trimmings and regular flower beds each side of the gravel walk. It was the home of a prosperous man, and as such asserted itself. There had never been anything attractive about it to Julia Cloud. She preferred the ugly old house in which she had always lived, with its scaling gray paint and no pretension to fineness. At least it was softened by age and had a look of experience which saved its ugliness from being crude and gave it the dignity of time. And now Julia Cloud's heart began to beat rapidly. All at once she felt that she had done a most foolish thing in allowing the children to overrule her and bring her here. Ellen would not be dressed up nor have the children ready for inspection, and she would be angry at her sister for not having given warning of their coming. She leaned forward breathlessly to suggest turning back, but Allison, perhaps anticipating her feelings, said, Now don't you get cold feet, cloudy jewel, if Aunt Ellen is sore, just you talk up to her and smile a lot and we'll back you up. Remember, everything's going fine and the whole thing's settled. It's too late to change it now. Is this the place? We'll turn right in, shall we? And with the words he swung up under the elaborate wooden porch chair and swinging down flung the door open for Al Julia Cloud to alight. Leslie gave a quick disdainful glance about, fluttered out beside her aunt, and catching the look of apprehension on her face, dripped up the steps and rang the bell, poisoning bird-like on the threshold and calling in a sweet, flute-like voice, Aunt Ellen, oh Aunt Ellen, where are you? Don't you know you've got company all the way from California? It was just like taking the bull by the horns and Julia Clouds paused on the upper step in wonder, how winning a child she was and how she had known by intuition just how to mollify her unpleasant relative. What would Ellen say? How would she take it? Ellen Robinson bustled frowning into the hall, wetting her sharp tongue for an encounter. She had seen the big blue car turn in at the gate, and knew from Miss Perkinson's description who it must be. Julia Cloud had well judged her state of mind, for her four children could not have been caught in a worse plight so far as untidiness was concerned, and there had been barely been time to marshal them up the back stairs with orders to scrub and dress, or not to come down till the visitors were gone. They were even now creeping shuffling about overhead on their bare feet, hunting for their respective blasts, shoes and stockings and other garments, and scraping in loud whispers. But Leslie, little diplomat that she was, wasted no time in taking stock of her aunt. She flung her arms joyously around that astonished woman, and fairly took her by storm, talking volubly and continuously until they were all in the house and seated in Ellen's best satin, broccatel, parlor chair, surrounded by crayon portraits of Herbert Robinson at Ancestors and Ascendants. Allison too caught in on to his sister's game, and talked a great deal about how nice it was to get east again after all the years, and how glad they were to have some relatives of their own. Julia Cloud sat quietly and proudly listening, and Ellen forgot her anger and ceased to frown. After all, it was something to have such good-looking relatives. For the first few minutes, the well-prepared speech, wherewith she had intended to dress down poor Julia, lay idle on her lips, and a few sentences of gredging welcome even managed to slip by. Then suddenly she turned to her sister, and the sight of the adoration for the visitors in Julia's transparent face kindled her anger. Never had such a look as this glowed in Julia Cloud's face for any little Robinson, save perhaps in the first few days of their tiny lives before the Robinson had begun to crop out in them. Where were you this morning, Jewel? It certainly seems queer for you to be gadding about having a good time so soon after poor mother's death, and the dishes not washed either. Upon my word you have lost your head. You weren't brought up that way. I stood upstairs and looked around on those unmade beds, and thought what poor mother would have said if she could see them. Such goings-on I was certainly ashamed to have Mrs. Perkins see it. Two rosy spots bloomed out on Julia Cloud's cheek, and a tremble came to her lips, though one could see that she was making a great effort to control herself. And the two long breaths that Leslie and Allison drew simultaneously were heavily threatening, much like the distant rumble of thunder. I'm sure I don't see what occasion Mrs. Perkins had to see it, she answered steadily. Well, she was there, said her sister, Riley. She seemed to have forgotten the presence of the two young people, who, as if they had been in the foreground, might have noticed doing things with their eyebrows to their mutual understanding and agreement. Yes, so she told me, said Julia Cloud significantly. But that was not what I came over to talk about, Ellen. I wanted to let you know that I've rented the house, and the tenant wants possession next week. I thought you might like to pick out some of mother's things to bring over here before I pack up. You spoke about wishing you had another couch for the sitting-room, and you might just as well have the dining-room, one as not. And I thought perhaps you could use mother's bedroom suit. You rented the house! Screamed Ellen as soon as she got breath from her astonishment to interrupt. You rented the house without consulting me? Who, too, I'd like to know. I had a tenant already for that house, I told you. Why, I had no time to consult Ellen, and besides, why should I? The house is mine, and I knew you didn't want it. You have your own house. Well, you certainly are blossoming out and getting independent. I should think mere decency would have made you consult us before you did anything. What do you know about business? Herbert will be mad as anything when I tell him, unlike as not you'll get into no end of trouble with a strange tenant, and will have to help you out. Herbert always says when we make all the trouble they can for him before they call on him for assistance. Julia smiled. I shall not be obliged to call on Herbert for assistance, Ellen. Everything is arranged. The contract was signed this morning, and I have promised to vacate as soon as possible. The tenant is a new school superintendent, and he wants to come at once. I just heard last night that he had been disappointed in getting the Harvey House. It sold to the foreman of the mill, so I went over to Harmony to see him at once. The news was so overwhelming and so unquestionably satisfactory from the business point of view that Ellen was speechless with astonishment. Allison gave Leslie a grave wink and turned to look out of the window to prevent an outburst of giggles from his sister. Well, I think you might have let me know, Ellen resumed with her almost usual polies. It's rather mortifying not to know what's going on in your own family when the neighbours ask. Here I was without any knowledge of the arrival of my own niece and nephew, had to be told by Mrs. Perkins. Then Allison and Leslie did laugh, but they veiled their mirth by talking about the two white chickens out in the yard which were contending for a worm. Suddenly Leslie exclaimed, Oh Allison, I hear the children coming down the stairs and I forgot their presence. Run out to the car and bring me that box. Allison was off at once, and the entrance of the soapy and embarrassed children created a further diversion. For a few minutes even Ellen Robinson was absorbed in the presence. There was a camera for Junior, a gold chain and locket for Elaine, a beautiful doll for Dorothy, and a small train of cars that would wind up and run on a miniature track for Birdie. So of course everything had to be looked at and tried. Elaine put on her chain and preened herself before the glass. Junior had to understand at once just how to take a picture. Everybody had to watch the doll open and shut its eyes, and to try to unbutton and button its coat and dress. And then the railroad track had to be set up, and the train started off on its rounds. Ellen Robinson really looked almost motherly while she watched her happy children, and Julia Cloud relaxed, and let the smile come around to her lips once more. But all things come to an end, and Ellen Robinson was not one to forget her own affairs for long at a time. She sat back from starting the engine on its third round, and fixed her eyes on her sister with that air of Commander General that was so intolerable. Well then, I suppose you won't be over here till next week, she frowned thoughtfully. I needed you to help with the cranberry apple jelly. That makes it inconvenient. But perhaps I can hold off the fruit a little longer, I'll see. You ought to be able to get your packing done this week, I should think. When do they go? She nodded toward the niece and nephew quite indifferently, as though they were deaf. Julia Cloud's sensitive face flushed with annoyance, but the two pairs of bright eyes that lifted and fixed themselves upon their ad held nothing but enjoyment to the situation. Why, we're not going until Aunt Julia's ready to go with us. Aunt Ellen announced Leslie looking up from the doll she was re-clothing. You know we're all going to college together, Auntie too. Ellen Robinson lifted an indignant chin, she had no sense of humour, and did not enjoy jokes, especially those practiced upon herself. Going to college at her age. She snorted, well, I always knew she was childish, but I never expected her to want to go back to kindergarten. Leslie rose up straight as a rush, her strong young arms down at her side, her fingers in the soft suede gloves working resistively, as if she wanted to rush at her aunt, and administer corporal punishment. Her pretty red lips were perzed angrily, and her blue eyes fairly blazed righteous wrath. Julia Cloud caught her breath, and wondered how she was to control this young fury. Before she could say a word, Allison stepped in front of her and spoke coolly. That's the reason she's such a good scout, Aunt Ellen. That's why we want her to come and take care of us, because she knows how to stay young. He seemed suddenly to have grown very tall, and quite mature as he spoke, and there was something about his manly bearing that held Ellen Robinson's tongue in cheek, as he looked at his watch with a polite, excuse me, and then hurried to Julia Cloud, Aunt Jewel, if we are to meet my guardian on that train, I think we shall have to hurry. It's quite a run into the city, you know. Julia Cloud arose with a breath of relief. The city gaffed Ellen. We're not going into the city this late in the afternoon, I hope. Do you know how long it takes? Allison glanced out to his high-powered machine confidently. We made it an hour and a half coming over. I guess we shall have plenty of time to meet the five o'clock train if we go at once. I've got a peach of a car, Aunt Ellen. I'll have to come round and take you and the kids a ride tomorrow, or the next day if Aunt Jewel can spare me. Thank you. I have a car of my own, snapped his aunt, disagreeably. Oh, I beg your pardon. Well, Aunt Jewel, we really must go, if we are to meet Mr. Luddington. Goodbye, Aunt Ellen. Goodbye, cousins. We'll see you again before we leave town, of course. Come on, Aunt Jewel. And he took Julia Cloud lightly, protecting me by the elbow, and steered her out of the room down the steps and into the car, while Leslie danced gaily afterwards, chatting about how nice it was to get back east and meet real relatives. But Ellen Robinson was not listening to Leslie. She hurried after her departing guest, regardless of a noisy struggle that was going on between her two youngest over-the-rail road train, and stood on her front steps, fairly snorting with indignation. Julia Cloud, what does this all mean? You shall go away till you explain. Have you taken me of your senses? What is this nonsense about going to college? Allison, with his hand on the starter, gave his aunt a swift, reassuring smile, and Julia Cloud, from the safe vantage of the back seat, lean, formward, smiling. Why, it's the children that are going to college, not I. I'm only going along to keep house and play mother for them. Isn't it lovely? I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, when you come down to pick out your things. Be sure to come early, because I want to get started packing the first thing in the morning. Mr. Luddington, the children's guardian, is coming tonight to complete the arrangements, and we expect to get away just as soon as I can get packed up. So come early. The engine purred softly for a rhythmical second, and the car slid quickly away from the door. But the very idea, snorted Aunt Ellen, Julia Cloud, she fairly shouted, Stop! You have no right in the world to go ahead and make plans without consulting me. But the car was beyond earshot now, and Leslie was wearing a pretty tantalising hand from the backseat. The very idea, Ellen Robinson gasped to the autumn landscape as she stood alone and watched the car a mere speck down the road on its way to town. The idea, and then as if for self-justification, poor mother, what would she think if she could know? Well, I wash my hands of her. But Ellen Robinson did not wash her hands of her sister. Indeed, she found that it was going to be very hard, indeed, to wash her hands of her own affairs without her sister's help. She had, in fact, been counting on that help for the last several years after her mother had become an invalid, and she knew that it was only a matter of time before Julia's hands would be set free for other labour. It was quite too disconcerting now, after having got along all these years on the strength of the help that was to come, to find her capable sister snatched away from her by these two young things in this ridiculous way. They talked it over at supper, and Herbert was almost savage about it, as if in some way his wife had misinterpreted the possibilities, and led him to expect the assistance that would come from her sister, and save him from paying wages to his servant.  So don't you worry, but what I want understood is this. She's not going to find it so easy to get back, see? You make her thoroughly understand that. You better go down to-morrow and pick out everything you want. Take plenty. You can't tell, but something may happen to the house and the furniture burn up. We might as well have it as anybody. And you make it good and be sure that she understands right here and now that if she goes, she doesn't come back. Of course, I'm not saying she can't come back if she comes to her senses and is real humble, but you needn't let her know that. Just give her to understand it is her last chance. That I can't be monkey with this way. I've offered a very generous thing, and she knows it. And she's a fool, that's what she is. A fool, I say. He brought his big fist down heavily on the table, and jawed the dishes, and the children looked up in premature comprehension, storing up the epitaph for future use.  Someone ought to warn their guardian about her. Why, she has no more idea of how to take care of two high and mighty good-for-nothings, like that than an infant in arms. Meantime, the subject of their discussion was sitting serenely at a table in one of the best hotels of the great sitting. Having that time of her life, in the years it were to come, there might be more delightful suppers, even more elegantly served, perhaps. But none would ever rival this first time in existence, when she had sat among the wealthy and great at the land, and been treated like one of them. Mr. Lunnington was a typical businessman, elderly and kind, with wise eyes and a great smile. He turned his eyes keenly on Julia Cloud for an instant at their first meeting, then let his full smile envelop her, and she was somehow made aware of the fact that he had set his approval to the contract already made by his two enthusiastic wards. All the foreboding she had entertained in the little interval when Leslie and Allison allowed her to think at all were swept aside by his kind look and big serious tone when he first took her hand and scanned her true face. I'm glad they've picked such a woman, he said. You'll have your hands full, for they're a pair, but it's worth it. And when they all rode home through the moonlight, Julia Cloud nestled under the soft, thick robes in the car, and listened to the pleasant talk between the young people and their guardian with a sense of peace. If this strong, wise businessman thought that the arrangement was all right, why then she'd need not fear any longer. It was real and not a dream, and she might rely upon the wisdom of her decision. And with that sense of being ebbed held by something wiser than her own wish, she fell asleep that night, haunted by no dreams of her domineering sister. CHAPTER VI. The pleasant aromas of coffee and sausages were mingling in the air when Gardy Ludd woke up and looked about the old-fashioned room with a sense of satisfaction. The very pictures on the walls rested him. They reminded him so much of the rooms in his boyhood home. He had a feeling that old-fashioned things were best, and in spite of the fact that he owned a house most different from this one himself, and knew that his wife would not for a minute have tolerated any old-fashioned things about, unless they were so old-fashioned that they had become the latest rage, he could not help feeling that a woman brought up amid such simple surroundings would be the very best kind to mother these orphan children who had been left on his helpless hands. He would have loved to take them to his heart and his home, but his wife was not so minded, and that ended it. But it rolled a great burden from his shoulders to feel that he might leave them in such capable hands. They had a rollicking time at breakfast, for Gardy Ludd was delighted with the crisp-brown sausages, fried potatoes and buckwheats with real maple syrup, and he laughed and ate and told stories with the children, and kept the old dining-room walls ringing with joy, as they had not resounded within the memory of Julia Cloud. Then suddenly the door opened, and there stood Ellen Robinson, disapproval and auteur written in every line of her unpleasant face. One could hardly imagine how those two, Julia and Ellen, could possibly be sisters. Dismay filled Julia Cloud's heart for an instant, and brought a pallor to her cheek. How had she forgotten Ellen? What a fool she had been to tell Ellen to come early in the morning! But she had not realized that Mr. Luddington would be willing to come out to her humble home and stay all night. She had supposed that the arrangements would be made in the city. However, it could not be helped now, and a glance at the kind strong face of the white-haired man gave her courage. Ellen could not really spoil their plans with him there. He felt that the arrangement was good, and with him to back her she felt she could stand out against any arguments her sister might bring forth. So she rose with a natural ease and introduced her. My sister, Mrs. Robinson, Mr. Luddington, and Ellen stiffly and still disapprovingly, acknowledged the introduction. I won't interrupt, she said disagreeably. I'm just going up to look over some of my mother's things, and she turned to the back stairway and went up, closing the door behind her. Mr. Luddington gazed after her a second, and then, taking his glasses off and wiping them energetically, he remarked, Well, well, bless my soul, it must be getting late. We've had such a good time, I didn't realize. Though certainly we're good buckwheats, Ms. Cloud, I shan't forget them very soon, and now I suppose we'd better get down to business. Could we just go into the other room there and close the door for a few minutes, not to be interrupted? And he cast an anxious glance toward the stair door again. Julia Cloud smiled understandingly, and ushered them into the little parlor, blaze with fall sunshine, its windows wreathed about with crimsoning, woodbine, and as she caught the glow and glint from the window, she remembered the gray evening, when she had looked out across into her future, as she supposed it would be. How beautiful and wonderful that the gray had changed to glow. As she sat down to enter into the contract that was to bind her to a new and wonderful life, with great responsibilities and large possibilities, her heart, accustomed to look upward, sent a whisper of thanksgiving heavenward. The details did not take long, after all, for Mr. Luddington was a keen businessman, and he had gone over the whole proposition and had the plan in writing for her to sign, telling just what were her duties and responsibilities with regard to his wards, just how much money she would have for housekeeping and servants and other expenses, and the salary she would receive herself for accepting this care. You're practically in a position of mother to them, you know, he said beaming at her genially, and I declare I never laid eyes on a woman that I thought could fill the part better. Julia Cloud was quite overwhelmed, but the matter of the salary troubled her. I think it should not be a matter of money, she demurred. I would rather do it for love, you know. Love's all right, said the old man smiling, but this thing has got to be on a business basis, or the terms of the will will not allow me to agree to it. You see what you're going to undertake means work, and it means sticking to it, and you deserve pay for it, and we're not going to accept several of the best years out of your life for nothing. Besides, you've got to feel free to give up the job if it proves too burdensome for you. And you to dismiss me if I do not prove capable for the position, suggested Julia Cloud, lifting meek and honest eyes to meet his gaze. Well, well, well, I can see there won't be any need of that, sputtered the old gentleman pleasantly, but however that is, this is the contract I've made out, and I'm quite satisfied. So are the children, are you willing to sign it? Of course, there's a clause in there about reasonable notice if there is dissatisfaction on either side that lets you out at any time you get tired of it. Only give me a chance to look after these youngsters properly. Julia Cloud took the pen eagerly, tremblingly, a sense of wonder in her pounding heart, and signed her name just as Ellen's heavy footsteps could be heard pounding down the back stairs. Leslie seized Julia and gave her great hug as the last letter was finished, and then threw open the parlor door in the nick of time to save her Aunt Ellen from seeming to be deserted. Ellen Robinson appeared on the scene just in time to witness the hearty handshake that Guardi Led gave Julia Cloud as he picked up the papers and went upstairs for a suitcase while Allison went after the car to take him to the train. Is that man married? Because if he isn't, I don't think it's respectable for you to go and live near him, declared Ellen in a penetrating voice to the intense distress of Julia Cloud, who was happily hurrying the dishes from the breakfast table. But Leslie came to the rescue. Oh indeed, Aunt Ellen, he's very much married, altogether too much married for comfort. He would be a dear if it wasn't for a silly little old bossy wife, but he doesn't intend to live anywhere near us. His home is off in California, and he's going back next week. He's only waiting to see us settled somewhere before he goes back, so you needn't worry about Aunt Julia's morals. We'll take good care of her, but isn't he a dear? He was my grandfather Leslie's best friend. Leslie chattered on gaily till the visitor's footsteps could be heard coming downstairs again, and Ellen Robinson could only shut her lips tight and go into the kitchen, from which her sister, beat immediately a hasty retreat, lest more unpleasant remarks should be forthcoming.  The two young people had rushed down to the car, and were pulling their guardian joyously inside. They seemed to do everything joyously, like two young creatures led out of prison into the sunshine. Julia Cloud smiled at the thought of them, but her soul was not watching them just then, she was looking off to the hills, that had been her strength all the years through so many trials, and gathering strength now to go in and meet her sister in final combat. She knew that there would be a scene, that was inevitable, that she might maintain her calmness and say nothing unkind or regrettable, she was praying earnestly now as her eyes sought the hills. Across the road behind her parlor curtains, Mrs. Perkins was keeping look out, and remarking to a neighbor who had run in. Yes, I thought as much, there's always a man in the case when a woman acts queer, now doesn't that beat all?   Seems to me I did hear there was somebody died, or something before we came here to live, but she must have been awful young. The car moved noisily away, and the old gentleman leaned out with a courteous lift of his hat toward Julia Cloud. She acknowledged it with a bow and a smile, which Mrs. Perkins pounced on and analyzed audibly. Well, there's no fool like an old fool as the saying is, just watch her smirk. I'm mighty glad Ellen Robinson's there to relieve me of the responsibility. She'll be over after a while, and then we'll know who he is. There goes Julia in. She watched him out of sight, while I wonder what her mother would think. Julia Cloud went slowly back to the dining room, where Ellen was seated on the couch, waiting like a visitor. Julia's smile was utterly lost on her glum countenance, which resembled an embattled tower under siege. Well, she said as Julia began to gather up more dishes from the breakfast table, I suppose you think you've done something smart now, don't you, getting that old snob here and fixing things all up without consulting any of your relatives? Really, Ellen, this has all been so sudden that I had no opportunity, said Julia gently, but it did not seem likely that you would object, for you suggested yourself that I rent the house, and you said you did not want me to stay here alone. This seemed quite providential.  You call that providential, do you? Well, I don't. When I object and try to save you from yourself and offer you a good home where you will be cared for all the rest of your days, right among your own where mother would have wanted to see you, you will probably get hi-headed and say I am interfering with your rights. But I can't help it, I've got to speak, and I can't see you put the halter around your neck to hang yourself without doing everything I can to stop it, my own sister. Why, Ellen, dear, said Julia clout eagerly, sitting down beside her sister. You don't understand, it isn't in the least that way, I'm sorry I had to spring it on you so suddenly and give you such a wrong oppression. You know I couldn't think of coming to live on you and Herbert, it was kind of you to suggest it and I'm grateful and all that, but I know how it would be to have someone else, even a sister, come into the home, and I couldn't think of it. I have always resolved that I would never be dependent on my relatives while I had my health. Ellen sat up bristling, and yet you are willing to go away to some strange place where nobody knows you and slave for a couple of little snobs?  Own brother's children, nothing, sneered Ellen.  Yet you'll leave the children that were born and raised close beside you, and go and slave for them? Mother, fiddlesticks, you'll slave all right?  I know how it is, and you may not believe it, but I have feelings for my sister, and I don't like to see her put upon. Ellen fumbled for her handkerchief, and managed a comely tear or two that quite touched Julia's heart. Affection between them, even when Ellen was a child, had been quite one-sided, for Ellen had always been a selfish, spoiled little thing, and Julia had looked in vain for any signs of tenderness. Now her heart warmed toward her younger sister in this long-delayed thoughtfulness, and her tone grew gentler. That's dear of you, Ellen, and I appreciate it, but I haven't been able to make you understand yet, I see. I'm not to be a worker, nor even a housekeeper. I'm to be just a sort of mother or aunt, if you please, to see that the house runs all right, to be with the children and have happy time with them and their young friends, and to see that they are cared for in every way necessary. Just a house-mother, you understand? I am to have servants to do the work, although I am sure one servant will be all that I shall want in a little household like that, that Mr. Lightington quite insisted there should be servants, and that no work of any sort should fall upon me. He said that as their nearest relative I was to be in the position of mother and guardian to them, and to preside over their home. That's ridiculous, put in Ellen. Why don't they go to college and board like any other reasonable young folks if they must go to college at all? I think it's all nonsense for them to go. What do they do it for? They've got money, and don't have to teach or anything. What do they need of learning? They've got enough now to get along. That girl thinks she's too smart to live. I call her impudent for my part. They want a home, said Julia, waving the subject of higher education, and they have chosen me, and I mean to do my best. There was a quiet finality in her tone that impressed her sister. She looked at her angrily. Well, if you will, you will, I suppose. Nobody can stop you. But I see just what will come of it.  And you don't realize how offended Herbert is going to be by your actions, and how he'll feel about letting you come back after you have gone away in such high feather. You haven't anything to speak of to support yourself, of course, and how on earth do you expect to live anyway after these children get through their college and get married or something? They won't want you then. Julia rose and went to the window to get calmed. She was more angry than she had been for years. The thought of Herbert's having to take care of her ever was intolerable. But she was able to hold her tongue until she could get her eyes on those hills out of the window.  That had been the verse which she had read from her little Bible before leaving her room in the early morning, and she was grappling it close to her heart, for she had known it would be a hard day. Ellen was watching her silently. Almost she thought she had made an impression. Perhaps this was the time to repeat Herbert's threat. Herbert feels, she began, that if you refuse his offer now, he can't promise to keep it open. He can't be responsible for you if you take the step. He said he wanted you to understand thoroughly. Julia Cloud turned and walked with swift step to the little parlor, where lay the paper she and Mr. Luddington had just signed, and a copy of which he had taken with him. She returned to her astonished sister with a paper in her hand. Perhaps it would be just as well for you to read this, she said with dignity, and put the paper into Ellen's hands, going back to her clearing of the table. There was silence in the dining room while Ellen read. Julia moving on quiet feet about the table, putting things to rights. She had finished her part of the argument, she was resolutely putting out of her mind the things her sister had just said, and refusing altogether to think of Herbert. She knew in her heart just how Herbert had looked when he had said those things, even to the snarl at the corner of his nose. She knew too that Ellen had probably not reported the message, even so disagreeably as the original, and she knew that it would be better to forget. Well said Ellen, rising after a long perusal, laying the paper on the table. That sounds all very well in writing. The thing is to see how it comes out. The proof of the pudding is in the eating, and you needn't tell me that any man in his senses will pay all that salary merely for a chaperone, as he calls it. If he does, he's a fool, that's all I've got to say. But I suppose nothing short of getting caught in a trap will make you see it, so I better save my breath. I'm sure I hope you won't go to the poor house, through your stubbornness. I've done all I could to keep you from it, and it's pretty hard to have my only sister leave me so soon after mother's death. Well, Ellen said Julia Cloud looking at her speculatively. I'm sure I never dreamed you cared about having me away from here. You've never shown much interest in being with me, but I'm sorry if you feel it that way, and I'm sure I'll write to you and try to do little things for the children often now that I shall have something to do. But her kindly feeling was cut short by Ellen interrupting her. Oh, you'd need trouble yourself. We can look after the children ourselves. You better save what you get to look after yourself when those two get over the swim. And then, to her great relief, Julia Cloud heard the car returning from the station, and the two young people rushing into the hall.