Dear! You should have seen the flush on Elsie's face then! The idea of that upstart of a boy daring to speak so about her dear father! He was not rich either, and everybody knew he denied himself to have the more to give to others. For a moment Elsie wondered whether she did not hate her Cousin Ben—just a little!
Also, she felt just like dashing out in some wild expenditure that would show her cousins how indifferent she could be to money when she chose. What should she buy? There was plenty of opportunity. Just next door in the plate-glass window stood temptations enough. Grapes, out of season, large; white, luscious. They were marked fifty cents! Suppose she should buy a bunch for herself, and one each for Carrie and Ben, and two or three bunches to take home to Aunt Carrie? Beside them was a silver-papered box of choice bonbons, marked one dollar; she might add that and a bouquet of rare flowers. Would not these expenditures show that she knew how to use money and had it to use?
Her hand was on the door-knob. She was burning with the desire to slip in next door and make her purchases while Carrie studied over shades of ribbons. Suddenly she withdrew the hand quickly, as though it had come in contact with something that repelled it. "Clean hands!" To what base uses was she about to put hers! Why did she want to buy the fancy bonbons and the fruits and flowers out of season? As a tribute of love? Her honest heart told her that it was rather a tribute of anger! Did her father's reputation rest on such slight ground that it could be injured by the ignorant chatter of a silly boy, or be built up by a daughter's ill-humored extravagance? Very much astonished with, and ashamed of, herself, Elsie turned away, and stood quite still for a moment, eyes and head drooping. After that, she was better prepared for the rest of the hour, even though the cousins chose next a way of being cousinly that was almost unendurable. Ben actually bought some of the great white grapes, and forced a few on her, though she felt as though it would take but one to choke her. The truth is, fair Elsie, during that and several following days, took lessons in the fact that Satan makes sharp battle for every power of our being; and that the cross is still waiting to be borne; the only reason that we feel its weight so little being the fact that we have fallen into the habit of slipping quietly around it, instead of boldly taking it up.
The curtains were drawn and the gas was lighted in the cosy back parlor. Without the rain was steadily falling, and there was a rush of wind every few minutes against the casement, which sharpened the contrast between the dreary outside and the brightness of the home scene within.
Over the family there had come the sort of lull which follows special days of eager life and keen excitement. There had been the whirl of preparation for, and then the excitement of participation in, wedding festivities, and then the bustle of departure. Emmeline and Hal were made one, and had gone away together, Elsie taking note, with much inward disgust, that the groom actually smoked a cigar at the depot, while waiting for the belated train.
Now those who tarried behind had reached a stormy Saturday evening, with nothing to do but lounge amid the easy chairs and rest and visit.
Somewhat to their astonishment, they found this dull work. The reaction from so much excitement was upon them, and many a yawn was hastily covered so that the others might not suspect.
"Somebody read something," proclaimed Ben at last. "We are all too indolent to talk—let some fellow who knows how talk for us. Who will volunteer?"
"Elsie must read," said Carrie. "Papa says she is the best reader in the set. I've been sulky over that remark ever since he made it, so of course I will not."
Some gay talk followed this statement, but at last they settled down to listen. Elsie, by no means unwilling to be appointed reader, for, like most persons who are accustomed to reading aloud and who like to do it, she hated to listen.