“Oh, no, sir,” she said hesitatingly. “You see, it’s Joel’s father—he’s hurt in the woods—a tree fell on him—he can’t ever work no more, they think. And so Joel’s got the family for a while.”
“Joel’s got the family for a while.” We knew what that meant, even before Pelleas’ sympathetic questioning brought out the fact that six were dependent on him, boy that he was, with his own right to toil. He talked bravely, even buoyantly, of his prospects on his pittance at the mill. And little Mitty listened and looked up at him adoringly and faced with perfect courage the prospect of those years of loneliness and waiting. As I heard them talk and as their plans unfolded shyly in the warmth of our eager interest, I think there came to me for the first time the sad wondering that must come upon us all: How should it be that Pelleas and I had so much and they so little? how should it be that to us there were the Spring lanes, the May roses, the fountain of gardens—and to them the burden of the day?
To us the fountain of gardens. The thought was as poignant as a summons. Ay, to us the joy of the garden, the possession of its beauty; and why then, since we possessed its spirit, should the mere magic of the canvas be ours? We could part with that and by no means lose our garden, for the garden would be ours always. But the value that the world would set upon the picture itself, the value that they would set upon it at the Governor’s house where were walls of rare canvas and curio—was this what Miss Deborah had meant, I wondered? Here on the day that we had received it were there come two to whom Miss Deborah’s gift would give greater happiness than to us?
I looked at Pelleas and I think that in that moment was worked our first miracle of understanding, and to this day we do not know to whom the wish came first. But Pelleas smiled and I nodded a little and he knew and he turned to Miss Deborah; and I leaned toward Mitty and spoke most incoherently I fear, to keep her attention from what Miss Deborah should say. But for all that I heard perfectly:—
“Would it be enough?” Miss Deborah repeated. “Dear boy, the picture would keep the whole family like kings for a year. Since you ask me, you know.”
And Pelleas turned to me with a barely perceptible—
“Shall we, Etarre?”
And I made him know that it was what I would have above all other things, if Miss Deborah was willing. And as for Miss Deborah, she leaned back in her low chair, her eyes shining and a little pink spot on either cheek, and she said only:—
“I told you! I tell everybody! It’s you heaven-and-earth kind of people with a ballast of flowers that know more about your entrance fee to the garden than anybody else.”
We wondered afterward what she could have meant; for of course there could be no question of our having paid an entrance fee to our garden in the sense that she had intended, since what we were proposing to do was to us no payment of a debt or a fee, but instead a great happiness to us both.