QUESTIONS.
"They asked one another the reason."
Although the auction was over, the air of Friendship still vibrated from the stir. Bereft of its treasures, the Gilpin house stood an empty shell, facing an unknown future; for beyond the statement that he was from Baltimore, nothing was known of its purchaser.
"Why in the world should a man from Baltimore want it?" Mrs. Parton asked; and the question was echoed on all sides. Not to live in, at all events, it appeared, as weeks passed and it remained undisturbed.
Nor was this the only unanswered question. There was the ring. Miss Betty said it might as well have been left in the spinet, for all the good it did any one.
Allan had his own unanswered question; without doubt his mother had hers, as had Celia Fair, but they gave no sign to the outside world, nor asked any help in finding an answer.
And now came a new excitement. Dr. Pierce, the Presbyterian minister, announced impressively one Sunday that on a week from that day his pulpit would be occupied by his distinguished friend, Dr. Hollingsworth.
It was explained that he had been South on business relating to a bequest to the university, and found it convenient to stop over on his way home. Still, with several large cities within easy reach, his presence was an undoubted compliment to the village, and Friendship began at once to refresh its memory in regard to its expected guest.
Mrs. Molesworth came across the street to ask Mrs. Parton if she had ever heard Dr. Hollingsworth was not orthodox.
Mrs. Parton had not, and seemed to consider it a minor matter, for she went on to tell how pleasant he was, and how fully he appreciated the joke of being taken for a detective by Belle.
"I trust, indeed, it is not true," said Mrs. Molesworth, going back to the original question.
"Well, I shouldn't worry, Cornelia. He is not likely to do much harm in one sermon," Mrs. Parton answered easily.
Mrs. Molesworth shook her head. "You can never be sure. It is not for myself I fear, but for the boys. I have tried to protect them."
"If your boys are like mine, they won't get any harm from a sermon. I do manage to drag them to church, but it is like taking a horse to water—it is another matter to make them listen."
Mrs. Molesworth returned home feeling that Mary Parton treated serious subjects with undue levity. Mrs. Parton, seeing Miss Betty Bishop approaching, lingered at the gate.
"Well, Betty, I suppose you know we are to have Dr. Hollingsworth at our church Sunday."
She had heard it, but did not seem disposed to enlarge upon it, as was her custom with a piece of news.
"Cornelia Molesworth is worrying because she has heard he is not orthodox."
"She is not obliged to hear him, is she? Nobody can amount to anything nowadays without being accused of heresy; however, I fancy Dr. Hollingsworth can bear up under Mrs. Molesworth's disapproval."
Mrs. Parton surveyed Miss Betty with a twinkle in her eye. "I declare, Betty," she remarked, irrelevantly, "you are growing younger. You look nearer twenty than forty this minute."
"Perhaps it is my new hat," Miss Betty suggested; but surely she had passed the age when one flushes over the possession of a becoming hat.
Mrs. Parton laughed to herself as she went back to the house, "Do you suppose that is why he is coming? Goodness! I wish the colonel was here."
The news was discussed all over town that Monday morning.
"What brings Dr. Hollingsworth here?" Dr. Barnes asked, meeting Colonel Parton in the bank. "He is a friend of the Whittredges, I understand. Anyway, it is a compliment to Friendship."
"Friendship is a great place. He liked our looks when he was here a month or so ago," and the colonel laughed his easy laugh.
"More than likely he thinks we need a little stirring up," Mr. Roberts remarked from his desk.
"Did you hear the joke on my Belle?" the colonel asked, and proceeded to relate the story of the supposed detective and the photograph.
The Arden Foresters in their turn talked it over that afternoon, sitting in a row near the red oak, which lavished badges of crimson and gold upon them now. The October air was delicious. They had raced up the hill and down to the landing and back again, for pure joy of moving in the sparkling atmosphere.
"I have something to tell you," Rosalind announced. "You must all come to church next Sunday, for our president is going to preach."
"Is that what you have to tell? because I knew it already," said Belle, whose cheeks matched the oak leaf she was pinning on her jacket.
"No, it is something even better than that. I have a letter to read to you." As she spoke, Rosalind tossed a handful of leaves at Maurice.
"That's right, wake the professor up," cried Jack, following her example.
"Or bury him," said Belle, joining the onslaught.
Maurice, who had been gazing rather absently into the distance, was aroused to defend himself, and the battle resolved itself into a hand-to-hand combat between the two boys.
Maurice's crutch had been discarded, and his knee was almost as strong as ever, although rough sports, such as foot-ball, were still denied him. He had recently arrived at the dignity of long trousers, being tall for his age, and Jack had immediately nicknamed him "the professor."
"Now, boys, that is enough," Rosalind said, with decision; "Maurice is waked up, I think."
"Am I awake, or not?" Maurice demanded of the struggling Jack, as he held him down and sat upon him.
"Mercy, yes!" Jack cried, freeing himself with a mighty effort. "But you must smile; I can't have you looking so melancholy. Smile!"
In spite of himself Maurice obeyed the command.
"That's right; now sit down and behave," Jack added, laughing.
Rosalind took out her letter. "Listen," she said:—
"My Dear Rosalind: I am coming back to Friendship in a few days, and I want to ask if the Arden Foresters will admit a new member to their circle? I am greatly interested in what I have heard of it. I have been travelling in the Forest for a good many years, with just an occasional lapse into the desert, but I should like the right to wear an oak leaf and have my name in the Arden Foresters' book, on the page with the magician's.
"Hoping that this is not asking too much, I am
"Yours affectionately,
"Charles W. Hollingsworth."
"Isn't that dear of him?"
"Does he mean it really?" asked Maurice.
"What is the matter with you, Maurice? Of course he does," cried Belle. "He is grand! The detective," and she laughed at the recollection.
"Rosalind is going home before long, and I didn't know whether we would keep it up," Maurice said.
"But I shall come back again next summer, and,—oh, I hope we aren't going to give it up!" Rosalind looked anxiously at her companions.
"Never!" cried Belle.
"No indeed," said Jack. "I am an Arden Forester forever."
"A monkey forever," growled Maurice.
"That is better than a bear, anyway," retorted Jack.
"Maurice reminds me of the day I first talked to him through the hedge," Rosalind remarked, smiling at him.
Maurice laughed. "I was pretty cross that day. I don't mean that I want to give the society up, only we can't meet here much longer, and it seems as if our fun was nearly over."
"It will soon be too cold to have our meetings out of doors; let's ask the magician if we can't meet there," Belle proposed.
"What fun! I almost wish I wasn't going home. You must all write to me about what you do," said Rosalind.
"We shall miss you dreadfully," Belle said, looking pensive for a moment.
"But she hasn't gone yet, so what is the use of thinking about something that is going to happen, when you are having a pretty good time now?" asked Jack, philosophically.