CHAPTER IX.

SETTLING THE PUZZLE.

MRS. HAMMOND herself boarded at the hotel, but it suited her best to have little Ethel sit in her high chair at the table in the tent, and take her oatmeal and milk and other wholesome dainties, in company with Jeannette and Dilly. It also suited her to come often, before the meal was concluded, and sit beside Ethel and watch her pretty attempts to feed herself. It was when Ethel was eating one by one, great ripe blackberries, that her mother came, and drawing a chair to her side, watched the plump cheeks and pretty little mouth with a sigh of relief. Whatever might be said of her son, certainly her baby was thriving on Monteagle.

The mother had dark rings under her eyes, and traces of sleeplessness on her face. Dilly, looking at her compassionately, wanted to ask if she had seen Mr. Hart that morning, but, did not dare. While she studied over the trouble which she felt sure was making wrinkles in this beautiful mother's face, and wondered if there wasn't something she could do to help her, the tent curtains parted slightly and a familiar face looked in.

"Any room in here for me?" questioned Hart's pleasant voice, and his mother answered eagerly:

"O, Hart! Come in; I thought you were away down the mountain before this time. Weren't you very late last night?"

"On the contrary, I was early." He came in, and stopping beside his mother, bent and kissed her on each cheek. "That is to say I was 'inside the tent,' early; I stayed with a young man who runs a tent down near the tabernacle. I happened to call on him, and we became so engaged in a talk we were having, that it grew late before I knew it, and as I received a cordial invitation to spend the night with him, I decided to do so, rather than go prowling about the grounds after regulation hours. I hope I did not worry you, mother; I supposed you would think me safe in my tent."

"It is all right," the mother said, cheerily; "I noticed that your tent door was tied, early in the evening, and did not see you untie it; and I was a little afraid you had deserted us and run home."

"I would not do that without telling you, and saying good-by," he answered gently, and some way his voice seemed more tender than Dilly had ever noticed before. He lifted Effie, whose blackberries were gone, from her chair, and gave her such a frolic that she shouted for joy, then putting her on Dilly's shoulder, walked away with his mother's hand drawn through his arm, and a happy look on her face; a look which, while it lasted, nearly always hid the wrinkles which were gathering there.

"I wonder that boy can't see that he's killing his mother; he 'pears to think enough of her, when he thinks about her at all." It was Jeannette who said this. It was the first time she had made a remark to Dilly about any of the family.

Dilly was silent for a minute, struggling with a sense of honor which she had, about talking people over, when they were not present, but at last she ventured to ask one question she knew the object she had in view was good:

"Does she—I mean, does Mr. Hart do things which trouble her?"

"Oh! He doesn't do anything so very dreadful; not more than they all do; he's a little wild, most boys without fathers have their wild times; his father died when this baby wasn't but four days old; and he's got in with a set down in the city that don't do him much good. The fact is, he takes a drink of their wine, now and then, and that scares his mother. But then, she isn't half so scared as a body would think she would be; if she was, do you suppose she would go to hotels and stop for weeks at a time, where they had the stuff on the table at every meal? I've seen her do it; last summer she went to the Mountain House, and when they sat down to their stylish dinners, if I'd go past the room on my way to the piazza, the smell of all kinds of fancy liquors would almost take my breath away; I've got a kind of a natural liking for the stuff, and I could be a drunkard as well as not, if I had time and money; and Hart, he used to sit there and see gentlemen whom his mother rode and walked and talked with, and thought was fine, drinking their champagne and their claret and I dunno what other fancy names they've got for it, and why in the world shouldn't he think it was nice and manly, and that he was getting old enough to do so himself? I'm free to confess I ain't got much patience with mothers; s'posin' she took him every day where there was a mad dog or two, within easy reach of him, and s'posin' the bite of a mad dog felt kind of pleasant, at first; and then she whined around him and begged him not to get bitten; what kind of a way to manage would you think that was?"

"But they don't have such things at this hotel, do they?" Dilly's voice was shocked; if there was a thing in this world she had been brought up to fear and hate, it was alcohol; no matter by what name it was called.

"Here, inside the grounds? O, no! They don't allow nothing of the kind; but then he is as uneasy as a fish out of water up here; you can't take a boy where the air is poisoned, till he gets the poison into him, and then make things all straight by carrying him off to a mountain." Jeannette banged the breakfast dishes a little as she talked; she felt very much wrought up on this subject. The fact is, her home had been ruined by this same poison; and she knew what she was talking about.

Dilly sat still, and let Effie's busy fingers pull her neat ruffle all awry; she felt very much dismayed. If Hart really had some of this dreadful poison in his veins, how could she hope to help him in the least?

All day her mind was busy with these thoughts. I am afraid Effie found her a very grave companion. That young lady was not by any means neglected; her milk and her oatmeal and her fruit were ready at the moment as usual; and no insolent fly was allowed to walk over her pretty face while she slept out of doors in her borrowed cradle, with the birds and the flowers to keep her company. But for the rest, she was obliged to plan her own entertainments to a great extent, while Dilly hemmed a ruffle for her dress and thought and "thought." Was there any possible way in which she could help Mr. Hart, and so help Mr. Hart's mother?

Effie's early supper was nearly all disposed of before Dilly saw the young man again. Then he called to her pleasantly as he was passing the tent:

"Halloo, little woman, have you been to Table Rock yet, to see the sunset?"

"No, sir," said Dilly, smiling, and appearing in the tent door in her pretty white dress, a gift from Mrs. Hammond, and looking as fresh and bright as a little girl need. "I don't know where Table Rock is; and besides, I don't think Mrs. Hammond would like to have me take Miss Effie there, if there are very high places."

"I imagine not. 'Miss Effie' will do well to wait a few years before she climbs those rocks; but you ought to go. I'm just starting on a trip, and I'll show you the way."

Dilly hesitated; Jeannette was busy with some fine ironing, and it was nearly Mrs. Hammond's tea hour; she had an idea that it would be a very inconvenient time to leave her little charge; she opened her mouth to speak this thought, then closed it again, mindful of Mrs. Hammond's directions.

"Thank you," she said at last; "I'll take Effie to her mamma and ask if she can spare me." And she sped away before Hart could reply.

"I can take care of her as well as not," said Mrs. Hammond with her pleasantest smile. "I don't feel tired at all; and you have been busy with the little girlie all day; I'm glad to have you go and get rested."

What a pretty walk it was! Dozens of others were moving in the same direction; ladies in beautiful summer toilets, and fine-looking gentlemen who nodded pleasantly to Hart; and presently a party of merry girls and boys all older than herself, joined them, and chatted pleasantly with her, making Dilly feel as though she "belonged." It was all very delightful. When they reached the rocks, Hart gave his hand to Dilly and guided her carefully over the rough places, out to the very centre of the wonderful rocky table itself, and said:

"Now, turn to the right, and 'look.'"

Dilly up to this moment had been busy only with the thought of where she should step next, and whether she could take that leap across that yawning chasm to the next rock, and what would happen if Mr. Hart's foot should slip; but now, feeling more secure, she turned at his bidding and looked toward the glowing west. One little exclamation escaped her, then she was entirely still. That wonderful ball of fire surrounded by its train of red and gold and purple clouds! Who would try to describe it? Who that has not seen it on Table Rock itself can imagine it? Certainly Dilly had no words; there was a sudden rush of tears to her eyes; she could not have told why; and she put up her hand quickly and wiped them away; it would not do to have the view obscured by tears. Something in the scene had hushed other voices as well as hers; the group stood for the most part silent and watchful, with eager faces turned toward the vision of glory in the west, watchful until the glowing world dropped out of sight.

"The door is shut!" said Hart, breaking the hush and drawing a long breath.

One of the girls turned and looked at him curiously. "The door?" she said in an inquiring tone.

Hart laughed, and pointed toward the purple bank of clouds.

"Yes; didn't you see the angels troop out and throw open the castle door for the king of day, and then swing it slowly to again? I saw it."

Dilly flashed an appreciative glance at him. "I thought I saw it," she said in a low tone, while the others laughed and told him he was growing poetical.

On the way home, as they neared the grounds of the Association, the others dropped off into their own paths, and left the young man and the little girl alone.

"Have you settled that puzzle which you were having with yourself last night?" he asked her with a very bright look.

"Puzzle?" repeated Dilly.

"Yes; wasn't it a sort of puzzle as to who was keeping you from trying to settle something of importance?"

"Oh!" said Dilly. "Yes, I was puzzled a little; at least I wanted to make myself think I was; I guess I knew all the time it was Satan trying to manage me."

"And you don't like to be managed?"

"Not by Satan."

"O, well! Didn't I advise you to give him the slip?"

"Yes, sir," said Dilly, speaking very gravely. She did not know but Mr. Hart was making light of all her talk, nevertheless she resolved to stand up bravely for her colors. "Yes, sir, you did; and I mean to. I don't belong to him any more, Mr. Hart; I've gone over to the Other; and promised to belong to Him forever."

"That is good." There was no laughter in the young man's tones now; they were hearty and pleasant.

Dilly stole a glance at his eyes, which helped her; they were kind eyes; not full of sparkles of mischief, as she had feared.

"You have quite settled the question as to being old enough?"

"O, yes, indeed! I believe I knew all the time that I was; but something seemed trying to make me give that excuse to myself. I don't want any excuses now, Mr. Hart; I 'like' to belong to the Lord Jesus."

"Yes," he said heartily; "I can well understand that. And what next, Dilly?"