"Didn't it? Well, you ought to 'a' thought of it before, and it'd all be done now. Here we've wasted all these months, and I've been pestered to death with 'em both. She's done more tattin' settin' in my sun parlor than'd trim all the petticoats in Brookvale. But, John, her heart is good and is kind of thawin' about the babies. I seen her a-givin' yards o' that stuff to Mary Allen the other day to trim her baby's dresses; and when little Isaac got most run over she got as white as a sheet and we both cried over him together, which kind of brought us closer. And if she marries Algernon, they'll have babies and she'll jest blossom right out."

"You seem to be planning rather far ahead, aren't you?"

"No one has to be a prophet to say a preacher'll have babies. That's ginerally about all they do have."

"It's your business, Drusilla; but I can't understand why you want these two very worthy people to marry--"

"Can't you see through a fence-post, John? If Sarah marries the Reverend Algernon, she'll have to move to Adams, and she'll keep him hoppin' around so fast that he won't git time to come visitin' me so often."

"Oh, you are killing two birds with one stone!"

"Say it any way you want to, but they was made for each other, and I want to see Sarah married with a growin' family on her hands and then she won't have so much time to think and talk about her neighbors.

She does it jest because she ain't got nothin' else to do; but if she has to watch Johnny through the measles, and Lizzie through the mumps, and see that Willie's stockings is patched, she won't have time to tatt or tattle, and it'll make her a real woman, instead of jest an old maid. Is he comin' back tonight?"

"No; he has gone to his room."

"Well, I didn't know I'd ever be sorry not to see Algernon, but I'd like to begin on him tonight when it's fresh in my mind, and I could put spirit in my work. What you goin' to do with him to-morrow?"

"We are goin' to go over again those last books on chivalry that I bought--"

"Now, you leave them old books go, and when you git him alongside of one of them iron men, that must 'a' had a derrick to heave him on his horse, come down to earth and talk about women. Point out that that man must 'a' had a wife to buckle all his straps, or somethin' like that, and then tell him how all men ought to be married. Show how you're a shinin' example of how a man looks that ain't had a wife to see that he don't spill egg on his shirt bosom or make him change his underclothes Sat.u.r.day night. Flatter him. Tell him he is a big, strong man--all little men like that--but tell him that no matter how strong a man is he ain't strong enough to put the studs in his own shirt--and so lead up to Sarah. You can do it, John, if you go about it right. Git him interested, and I'll take care of Sarah."

"But it's a great risk, Drusilla. They might be so happy that they'd always be grateful and both want to come and visit you."

Drusilla raised her hands and then dropped them in despair.

"The Lord forbid, John."

"Don't you want them to be happy, Drusilla? If you don't think they would be, you hadn't better meddle in it."

"Certainly, they'll be happy. Sarah's a good woman. Her milk of human kindness is a leetle bit curdled now and sets hard on her stomach, but marriage'll be the soda that'll clear it all up. And her husband won't have to put a tin mask on her face to keep from bein'

jealous, and she won't need to fear his gettin' in temptation, 'cause she won't let him come to the city alone long enough to git real busy huntin' it up. Sarah's jest the wife for a parsonage. She's turnin'

more and more to religion and preachers as she gits older, like a lot of women do when they find they're not excitin' enough to interest the other kind. Now, John, be careful what you say. A man is like a kitten--try to catch him and he'll run. Don't fling Sarah at his head --it'd be like flingin' a bone at a cat; jest chase him away instead of drawin' him to her. Now I'm goin' to telephone her and ask her to come over to-morrow, and I'll prepare the way. And you, John," and Drusilla rose and shook her finger at him, "now you be careful what you say, but _say_ it."

The plan worked even better than Drusilla had hoped. Under Miss Lee's very evident admiration, the Reverend Algernon seemed to grow at least three inches in height, and his rather prosy compliments did not fall upon too critical nor blase' ears. Sarah blushed and fluttered and stammered as would any young girl with her first sweetheart. She even grew pretty; took to arranging her hair in a more becoming style and was particular about her dress. One morning she came over with a fluffy little gown that certainly took ten years from her age, and Drusilla looked at her in amazement. She confided to John: "I've heard that women had an Indian Summer but Sarah's surely having her early spring. And, John, I always thought that courtin' was like cookin'--you had to learn by experience; but them two seem to take to it natural. It's makin' Sarah over, I tell you.

Why, I even heard her say that she thought Bessie Grey was pretty, and she used to say about any girl that was so pretty that a blind man'd have to admit it, 'Yes, she's pretty, but it is the kind that'll fade early.' Why, she ain't shot a poison arrow at n.o.body's good luck sense they met."

"You seem to give them chance enough to see each other."

"Yes; I want them to find out each other's beauties. I set up nights tryin' to find errands to send 'em together down town in the motor.

Take a man and a woman and put 'em close together, in a rich, soft motor car, with nice cushions to lean against and a chauffeur who can't hear 'em, and something is hound to happen if they're human beings. And I git her to serve tea under the trees and let him see what a nice housewife she'd make, and how she'd show off to his women in the church. Do you notice she don't talk so much? jest sets quiet and smiles, which is wise of her, as she looks best that way. Why, she used to be like an electric fan buzzing away all day and fannin'

up nothin' but hot air. John, I feel I'm doin' some good in the world. If I keep on, it'll be a temptation to die just to read the epigraphs my friends'll write of me. But I ain't goin' to die fer a while; I'm goin' to set right down and go over them invitations we sent for the people who's comin' next week for my birthday. Dr. Eaton and me went over the house; it's all ready, and the children and the mothers'll move in on Monday."

Drusilla was silent for a few moments. Then she reached over and took John's hand in her own.

"John, Wednesday I am seventy-two years old. And it's more'n fifty years sense you and me went walkin' down the lane together first. And you're here now beside me. You can always find some one to share your money and your joys, but you can't ask everybody to share your sorrows and your troubles; and it makes me feel a sort of peace and quiet to know that you'll always be near me, and if things that I've planned don't come out right, that I kin come to you and talk it over and you'll understand. Lots of people when they hear what I'm goin'

to do will say that I'm an old fool, that I'm impractical, and lots of things that'd maybe hurt, if I didn't have some one to go to and talk it over with who I know won't be critical but will see down beneath it all what I'm try in' to do, and who'll understand. That's what love is, John, for people who grow old--just a great, great friendship, and--an _understandin'."_

CHAPTER XVII

"Come right on to the stoop, Dr. Eaton, and let's set down and cool off. I'm real het up."

Drusilla settled down in a big porch rocker and fanned herself with the paper in her hand.

"Now let's talk, and you tell me all about it. What did you say that last club was we was to? You been a-takin' me to so many places lately that I fergit their names."

"That was the big Socialists Club."

"Socialists--yes, that's what you called it. Ain't them got something to do with dynamite bombs and blowin' up people and things?"

Dr. Eaton laughed.

"No; you are thinking of Nihilists or Anarchists. These people are very mild; they only have ideas how to run the old world in a new way, and they are especially interested in the question of labor and capital."

"Well, they've idees enough, if that's all they need. But it seems to me, Dr. Eaton, that these people are all going at it wrong-end-to.

Instid of workin' with people in bunches, they want to take 'em man by man and git a little of the old-fashioned religion into each one singly. There's two commandments give us to live by. One is, we should love G.o.d; the other is to love our neighbor as ourself. Now, if each one got that second command planted deep in his heart, the hired man'd do his work as it ought to be done, and the man who hires him'd pay him right--so there wouldn't be no need of Socialists or Unions or dynamite bombs. No, you can't make people do the right thing by laws, and you can't put love in their hearts by meetings and committees and talk. Each man must git it for himself and then he'll do the square thing because he wants to, not 'cause he's forced to.

You can make laws against thievin' and build prisons to put men in who steal, but if you don't change a man's heart, if he _wants_ to be a thief he'll find some way o' doin' it--prisons or no prisons."

She was silent a few moments; then she chuckled softly to herself.

"I wanted to laugh when you introduced me as a woman who wanted to give away a million dollars. Why, I thought fer a minute I'd be run down, if one was to judge by their eyes. But they kind of caamed down when they learnt I wanted to find a way to leave it in my will so's it'd do the most good, instead of givin' it away right there in five-dollar bills. By the looks of a lot of 'em they could 'a' used it right then in gettin' a hair cut and a good meal of vittles."

"Yes; some of them do look rather lank and hungry; but there are some very clever men among them."

"They certainly talked a lot. Who was that young man who talked so much and then got me into a corner. He was kind o' wild-eyed."

"That's Swinesky, a Russian Jew."

"A Roosian! I always heerd tell that them Roosians know what to do with other people's money--and a Jew too! Well--well--and I got away without spending nothin'. He told me a lot of ways to spend my money, but most of 'em sounded like--like--what is it you call it--"

"Hot air."

"That's jest the word--hot air. They all was perfectly willin' to tell me what to do with it, as it wasn't there'n, but what I want is to find a man with an idee that he'd think good enough to carry out if the money was his'n. We've talked with a lot of people about the best way to dispose of my money where it'd do the most good, and most of their plans wouldn't hold water. But it's good of you, Dr. Eaton, to take me round, and I git a little idee here and another there, and some day maybe I'll find the right one.

"I see the newspapers is takin' up now what I'm askin' everybody.

'What will she do with her Million Dollars?' They'll git a lot of answers, 'cause every one's got an idee what they'd do if they had that money.

"But let's not talk of it no more--my head buzzes. I dream of it at nights and see it all hangin' round the bedposts, and a lot of people takin' it that I don't want to, and me not bein' able to git up and chase 'em away. Tell me about that loan you asked me about last night, and I didn't have time to talk."

Dr. Eaton sat up, interested in a moment.

"Do you remember my telling you about the man who has the b.u.t.ton factory in Yonkers?"

"He is the man who wants two thousand dollars, isn't he?" asked Drusilla.