Hastily Jane left the table to again remove the traces of tears, and when she returned, her grandmother and Julie were in their places. Her father had remained standing until she also was seated. Then, bowing his head, he said the simple grace of gratitude which had never been omitted at that table.
Jane marveled at the courage of her father, for he was actually smiling at the little old lady who sat at his side. “Mother mine,” he said, “if this isn’t the same kind of a meat pudding that you used to make for me as a special treat, long ago, when I had been good. Have I been good today?”
There were sudden tears in the fading blue eyes and a quiver in the corners of the sweet old mouth as the grandmother replied, “Yes, Dan, you have been very good. And all the while I was making it I was thinking how proud and pleased your father would be if he only knew, and maybe he does know, how good you’ve been. When you weren’t more than knee high to your Dad, he began to teach you that it was better to have folks know that your word could be depended on than to be praised for smartness, and that’s how ’tis, Danny, and I’m happy and proud.”
The dear little old lady wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron; then she smiled up brightly, and pretended to eat the meat pie, which was in danger of being neglected by all except Julie, who prattled, “We’ve set away two big pieces, one for brother Dan, when he comes home from the city, and one for Gerry. Umm, won’t they be glad when they see them? They’ll be hungry as anything! I like to be awful hungry when there’s something extra special to eat, don’t you, Janey?” Almost timorously this query was ventured. Julie did not like to have the big sister look so sad. The answer was not encouraging. “Oh, Julie, I don’t want to talk,” the other girl said fretfully.
“Nor eat, neither, it looks like,” the old lady had just said when the front door bell pealed. Julie leaped up, looking eagerly at her father. “Oh, Dad, may I go?” But, being nearest the door, he had risen. “I’ll answer it, Julie,” he replied. “It is probably some one to see me.” But Mr. Abbott was mistaken. A messenger boy stood on the porch. After the yellow envelope had been signed for, it was taken to Jane, to whom it was addressed.
Eagerly the girl tore it open, the others watching her with varied emotions, although Julie’s was just eager curiosity. “Ohee,” she squealed, “telegrams are such fun and so exciting. What’s in it, Janey, do tell us!”
Mr. Abbott noted that a red spot was burning in each cheek of the daughter who had been so pale. She glanced up at him, her eyes shining. “Dad,” she cried, “you won’t have to give me $300. Listen to this. Oh, Merry is certainly wonderful!” Then she read:
“Dearest Jane: Aunt Belle has changed her plans. She has rented a cottage just beyond the hotel grounds and is going to take her own cook and I want you to come as our guest, because, darling girl, I owe you a visit, since you gave me such a wonderful time in the country with you last year, and, what is more, we are going Friday, so pack up your trunk today, and be at the Central Station tomorrow at 4:00. Lovingly, your intimate friend—Marion Starr.
“P. S.—Who, more than ever, is living up to her nickname, Merry.—M. S.”
During the reading of the “night letter” Mr. Abbott had quickly made up his mind just what his attitude would be. “That’s splendid, Jane, isn’t it?” he said, and not even his watchful mother noted a trace of disappointment in his voice. “If I were you I would pack at once. You would better go over to the city in the morning and that will give you time to buy a new summer dress, for I am sure that you must need one.”
Jane started to reply, but something in her throat seemed to make it hard for her to speak, and so she left the room hurriedly without having more than touched her plate. Julie followed, as she adored packing. When they were gone, the man sighed deeply. “Mother,” he said, “I have decided to send Julie with Dan. She can cook the simple things he will need and some one must go with the boy. I would go myself, but I would be of little use. In a few days, as soon as I can pull myself together, I am going back to the city to start in some occupation far from Wall Street.”