[CHAPTER XV—AN UNSUSPECTED HERO]
Paul’s departure left the old problem still unsolved. Well, there was no help for it; if the family tradition was to be destroyed at last, so it must be. The time was coming when the ancient name of Winkler should be erased from the glass window of the Bakeshop, and a stranger’s name put in its place. Even Granny, usually so little troubled from her serenity by the vicissitudes of earthly things, seemed to brood over the prospect with melancholy. But the subject was not discussed so frequently as of yore, partly because there was little to be gained from such discussion, and partly because it reminded Mr. Lambert of his nephew’s delinquency and put him in a bad humor.
As September was always a hot month in that part of the country, school never began until early in October.
Jane felt utterly lost. Usually so resourceful, so capable of finding something to amuse her or interest her every minute of the day, she now went about her tasks indolently, and spent the rest of her time wandering around listlessly. Several times, she went down to call on Mr. Sheridan, who trotted her down to see his new Leghorn hens and his six Jersey cows. He had gone in for farming with his whole soul. He also discussed the changes he was making in the old house. Yes, he had decided to live in Frederickstown for good, as his grandfather had done before him, and his uncle, the Major, had done for many years. No, he didn’t think so much of solitude as he once had—but then there were reasons. Yes, he might travel now and then, but that didn’t count. No, he had not planned to settle permanently in Frederickstown, when he had first come, but things had happened since then that had changed his mind. Of course Janey had heard the news. Yes, he was the happiest man in the world. No, he had never been really in love before. No, he didn’t think Peterson would ever get married. Jane listened to him with the half-disdainful interest that one, who has been hardly dealt with by fate, pays to the cheerful talk of the fortunate. Their positions were reversed.
Jane was almost sorry that everything had gone so smoothly with Lily and Mr. Sheridan—she would have liked to have some complications to work on. It also seemed to her hardly dignified in Mr. Sheridan to have abandoned his pessimism so readily—whatever the cause of it might have been. And now that he was so cheerful and full of plans, he seemed to her less interesting than he had been before.
She was on pins and needles waiting for news of what had befallen Paul’s picture. She had allowed no one to share this secret which was absolutely her own, and her restless eagerness to hear was increased by not having anyone with whom to speculate on the chances of its success or failure.
No word had come from Paul. Where he was, what he was doing, how he was living were unknown to the family.
One fine, sunny day Aunt Gertrude declared that she was going to shut up shop and take a holiday.
“Come, we’ll take Dinah and the old wagon, and go out to the country. Elise, you and Jane can make up sandwiches. Granny doesn’t want to go, but Anna will be here to take care of her. Father is going over to Allenboro, so there doesn’t have to be any lunch cooked here, and Anna can get Granny’s.”
The prospect of this unexpected spree put everyone, including Jane into high spirits. Aunt Gertrude roasted two chickens, to be eaten cold, baked a chocolate cake with marshmallow filling, and boiled eggs, while Elise and Jane cut and spread enough sandwiches to stay the appetite of a small army.