“Oh, Mr. Rowantree,” cried Aunt Zillah, distressed, “I’m sure—”
“Don’t trouble yourself to say a single polite thing, ma’am. Leave me the virtue of my repentance. Now, about my little wife’s brother in there; he must come to Rowantree Hall to-morrow morning. Miles McEvoy can drive him over the way he took Panther to the station, lying out on the straw in the wagon box. Keefe’s a fine fellow, no manner of doubt about that. I took to him from the first.”
“Have you seen the pictures Keefe has up in Mr. McEvoy’s barn?” asked Aunt Zillah. “It’s a great pleasure and profit to look at them. I’m sure when Mr. and Mrs. Carson see them they’ll be all for having an exhibit of them down at Lee. Many artists come there, as you know, and it’s the habit of the tourists to attend their exhibits. Sometimes they purchase very freely.”
“It would be a fine thing for him if something of the sort could be done,” said Mr. Rowantree. “My only fear is that Mary Cecily may have another philandering male for her to care for. That really would be one too many. I declare,” he added humorously, “if it came to that, I think it might drive me to work!”
Azalea could not repress a little laugh, but Carin maintained disapproving silence. She liked Mr. Rowantree—nobody could help liking him—but she certainly did not approve of him, and it was not in her to ease off the situation as Azalea could. Azalea had grown up among vagabonds, and if she recognized in the magnificent Rowantree a new variety of the tribe, it only made her tolerant of him.
“But you do like to teach, don’t you, Mr. Rowantree?” she said encouragingly. “Paralee met me and told me what a wonderful day it had been for them all, and how you came it over that poor silly Mr. McIntosh. If only you had been given a chance to teach, maybe—” she hesitated, not quite seeing where her speech would lead her.
“Maybe I would have stirred my old stumps, eh, Miss Azalea, and not sat around on my gallery giving a bad imitation of a Southern planter, while my lion-hearted little wife used her wit and her strength to provide for the lot of us? Well, now, maybe you’re right. And that reminds me of a plan we evolved among us to-day. That nice red-headed boy—whatever his name is—helped shape the notion.”
He told them the idea of the moonlight school and instantly Azalea was on fire with enthusiasm.
“Oh, Mr. Rowantree,” she cried, “what a splendid thought—what a shining, glittering thought! It looks just like a king, dressed in white and jewels and with a crown on its head. Let’s make it come true. Carin, you’re the wonderful one for doing things. All I can do is to exclaim, but you go off and do them. Make this come true, Carin! I couldn’t bear to have it stay merely a dream.”
“It is a glorious idea,” said Carin. “I suppose men and women were quite happy in the old days, Mr. Rowantree, in ignorance. My father says some of the old, unlettered peasants were very wise, and that they had valuable knowledge they passed on from father to son. But in these days it certainly does seem terrible for a man or woman not to know how to read or write, particularly here in our country where everyone should have a chance.”