A Round Dozen

  JEAN'S MONEY, AND WHAT IT BOUGHT.

  THE last recitation of the last day of the district school-term wasover, and the boys and girls shut their books and put away slates andpencils, with a glad sense of liberty immediately at hand, which made itdoubly hard to sit still for the few remaining moments. Jean Thompson,their teacher, was almost as impatient as they. She was but seventeen,scarcely older than her oldest scholar, and in her joy at gettingthrough the term would doubtless have made short work of the closingexercises, had not Mr. Gillicraft been there. Mr. Gillicraft was thesenior member of the school board,--a slow, formal man, who liked thingsdone ceremoniously, so for his sake there had to be a little delay. Hemade a speech to the children, speaking at length and deliberately. Theywere all pleased to have vacation begin, no doubt, but he hoped, etc. Hewas sure they would join him in thanking their excellent teacher, MissThompson, for the judicious manner in which, etc. He trusted the moraldiscipline inculcated during the term would not, etc. And he hoped someat least of them would find time to study somewhat during the vacation,and thus redeem time which otherwise would be idly spent. The childrenfidgeted dreadfully during these remarks. The blue sky and bright airwooed and coaxed them through the open door; their feet were dancingwith impatience, how _could_ they attend to Mr. Gillicraft? At last theend came, the long-desired bell tinkled; and whooping, jumping, rioting,out they all rushed into their twelve weeks' freedom. One or two of thelesser girls waited to kiss "Teacher" for good-by; then they followedthe rest.

  When the last child was gone, Mr. Gillicraft approached Jean, who wassetting matters straight in her desk. His hand was in his pocket, fromwhich he presently drew a fat leathern wallet.

  "Ahem!" he said. "It is my duty and my privilege, too, as I may say, tohand you this, Miss Thompson." Mr. Gillicraft called her "Jean" usually,having known her all her life, but this was a formal occasion."Nine--ten--eleven," he went on, counting the bills which he had drawnfrom his wallet--"twelve. You will find that correct, I believe, $120,and I desire to say, in the name of the board, that we are quitesatisfied with the manner in which you have conducted the school, andgratified at your decision to continue with us during the ensuing year."

  "Thank you, sir," said Jean, modestly.

  "Count it," remarked Mr. Gillicraft, dropping the official and resumingthe friend--"always count your money, Jean, it's business-like. Anddon't put it loose in your pocket--that's a careless trick. You neverhad so much money at a time before in your life, did you? What are yougoing to do with it all?"

  "I don't quite know yet," replied Jean, "I shall have to talk withfather about it. I'll lock the door now, Mr. Gillicraft, if you'reready, and give you the key."

  "Have you got it?" whispered her brother James, as Mr. Gillicraft andthe key disappeared around the corner. "Have you got it, Jean?"

  Jean nodded.

  "How splendid," said Elsie, a younger sister, coming to Jean's otherside. "Show me. Oh! What a lot of money!"

  "What will you get with it?" asked James. "Don't I wish it was mine! Iknow well enough what I would buy."

  "So do I," chimed in Elsie.

  "What?" said Jean, with a smile.

  "A piano! And the dearest little dog--just like Ruth Parsons's dog, if Icould find one. And ever so many books. And a watch." And Elsie's listwas interrupted by the necessity of taking breath.

  "Hoo! Isn't that just like a girl? Why, you couldn't get half those withthat, you silly," put in her brother. "I'd get something quitedifferent. I'd get a pony, a real strong useful pony, which father couldplough with when I wasn't riding him. That would be something like."

  "Your pony would cost as much as Elsie's piano," remarked Jean.

  "Well, what would you get?" said James. "Will you get some niceclothes?"

  "Pshaw! Clothes! Will you get a watch, Jean? Or a breastpin andear-rings?"

  "Now, what use would ear-rings be to her when she hasn't any holes inher ears, Elsie? Do tell us, Jean--what will you get?"

  Jean laughed. It seemed as if all the world was bound to find out whatshe meant to do with her money.

  "I'll tell you by and by," she said. "I've made up my mind, I _think_,what I'd rather do, but I want to talk to father first." They reachedthe top of the hill as she spoke, and she pushed open the gate for theothers to enter, paying no attention to Elsie's rather fretful--

  "By and by. That's a long time. Tell us now, Jean, please do."

  After tea was the best time to catch Farmer Thompson at leisure. At thathour he usually treated himself to half an hour's rest and a pipe in theporch, and there Jean found him on this particular night.

  "Mr. Gillicraft paid me this to-day," she said, handing him the roll ofbills.

  "Ay. They're prompt with it, but that's but fair. Well, my lass--it's agood bit of money. What'll ye do with your gains?"

  "I'll tell you something I was thinking of, father--if you approve, thatis. It's a great many years since mother and you came from Scotlandhere, and she's never been home since, you know."

  "Twenty-one years come October. 'Tis a long time, truly," replied herfather, letting a curl of smoke escape from the corner of his mouth.

  "Well--there was an advertisement in the paper, awhile ago, about asteamboat line, the Anchor Line, it's called, I think, which goes toGlasgow, and it said great reductions for this summer, and people couldgo and come back in the second cabin for forty-five dollars. Now ifmother'd like it, and I know she would, she and I could go for what I'vegot, and she could visit grandmother, and there'd be thirty dollars leftfor other things, such as going down to New York and from Glasgow toGreenock. Grandmother lives in Greenock, doesn't she? Do you think it'sa good plan, father?"

  "Well, it depends on your mother. If she likes to go, I'd say noughtagainst it," replied her father. Then, his habitual Scotch cautionrelaxing, he added: "You're a good lass, Jean. A good, dutiful lass tothink of this. Your granny's an old woman by now, and I've known thislong back that your mother was wearying to see her again before shedies, and I'd have sent her myself, only I never could see the way to doit. Scotland's a long travel, and money's none too plenty now-a-dayswith any of us. I'll just smoke my pipe out, and then you and I'll go inand talk it over with mother."

  Mrs. Thompson heard the proposal with a tremulous mixture ofbewilderment and joy. She was not a strong woman, and fever-and-ague,that insidious scourge of so many country districts, had struck at thehill-farm the year before, and left her weakened and languid for monthsafterward. The neighbors were told the new plan, and preparations set onfoot at once, that Jean might lose as little as possible of her briefvacation time. Everybody was interested and excited. Mrs. Parsonsbrought warm knitted hoods to be worn at sea; Mrs. Wright, a waterproofclothes-bag and a box of Ayer's Pills; Mrs. Gillicraft two linencatchalls for state-room use, with pockets, and pincushions wellfurnished with pins.

  "I envy you," said Maria Parsons, who was Jean's special friend. "Ialways was wild to travel, but there! I don't suppose I ever shall, solong as I live. Some folks are born lucky. You'll have a splendid time,Jean."

  "Do you think so?" replied Jean, rather dismally.

  "Think so? Why, girl alive, don't you _know_ it?"

  "Well no, I don't. The fact is, Maria--the fact is--well--I _hate_travelling. I don't look forward to it one bit. I shall be horribly sickfirst, and then I shall be horribly homesick: I'm perfectly sure of it.Dear me--how I wish it was over, and we safely back."

  "Good gracious!" cried Maria, opening her eyes. "What on earth do you gofor, Jean, if you feel that way?"

  "Only to take mother. _She_ wants to go, and I always said she should,if ever I could earn any money to take her. Except for that, I'd gladlygive you the chance, and stay at home instead."

  This was not a very bright beginning for so long a journey. But Jean didnot think about that. She had the sturdy old Scotch blood in her, andhaving once put her hand to a task, did not look back.

  Her expectations were realized so far as the voyage went, for th
ey had arough passage, and both she and her mother were sick for more than halfthe way over. It was dull work enough for a strong, active girl to lieday after day in a narrow berth, watching the curtains swing and thevessel rock, and very often Jean said to herself, "I can't imagine whatpeople want to go to Europe for. It's _horrid_! I only wish Maria werein my place--since she wanted to come so much, and I at home instead.I'm sure I'd change in a minute, if I could."

  Matters mended toward the last, and by the time the steamer entered theFrith of Clyde, Mrs. Thompson, as well as Jean, was able to be on deck.It was a fine day, and as they slowly steamed up the beautiful Frith,between richly cultivated shores, with wooded hills dotted withcountry-seats rising behind, and purple mountain outlines still fartherback, something new stirred in Jean's mind, a quite unlooked-forexcitement and pleasure, which roused and woke her mind to the gladreception of fresh impressions. It was the first reward of herunselfishness, but she had looked for no reward, and had been consciousof no unselfishness; so it came with the zest of unexpectedness, and wasdoubly delightful.

  "Mother, there's a castle!" she exclaimed. "I truly think it's a realcastle. It looks just like the pictures of them."

  "And what for no?" replied her mother, whose Scotch seemed to revive andbroaden with the very aspect of her native shores--"what for should itna' be a castle? Mony's the castle I've seen in my childish time. Oh!there's the Cathedral, Jean, and the Custom House, and the bonnyMonument. I weel remember them a', lang as 'tis. And there--Jean, see bythe pillar--I'm most sure that's your uncle Andrew. I know him by thebonny shoulders, and the head above everybody else's; but dear, he'sgrown much older since--much older."

  This was no unnatural result of twenty-one years of separation, but atthat moment Mrs. Thompson did not remember this. "It's like a dream,"she kept on repeating. "This is Glasgow, and that's my brother that Inever looked to see again! It's like a dream, Jean."

  If they had turned back then and there for thirteen more days of wearysea, Jean would have felt rewarded for her journey by the half-tearfulrapture which shone in her mother's face at that moment. But they didnot turn back. They landed instead, and, with Uncle Andrew's assistance,were soon in the train for Greenock. He and his sister plunged at onceinto conversation in Scotch so much broader than Jean was used to, thatshe could hardly follow it. So she looked out of the window instead oftalking, and there was plenty there to keep both eyes and mind happilybusy. The trees, the buildings, the silver links and windings of theFrith, the pearl-gray shimmering atmosphere which enveloped all--it wasunlike anything she had ever seen, and gave her a pleasure which she hadnot expected to feel.

  Grandmother's house, or flat, was in an old-fashioned street. It wasrather barely furnished to American eyes, but very clean and orderly,and there was nothing bare in the greeting given by the sweet-faced oldScotchwoman to her long-unseen child and that child's child. Jean wasamused to hear her mother spoken to as if she were still almost a baby,while to herself granny accorded a certain respect and distance as to astranger and a woman grown. Her size and age seemed an entire surpriseto her Scotch relations, who had apparently never realized a growth ofwhich they had only heard in letters.

  "She's a big hearty lass, indeed, she's a very goodly lass!" granny kepton saying. "She's as large for a maiden as Sandy is for a lad. Aweel, Ican't understand it, Maggie. Ye were always the least of my weans,always the wee one of the flock, and it's muckle strange that your lassshould be bigger than ony of her cousins, and your sisters all biggerthan yersel. I'm clear puzzled about it."

  But puzzlement was lost in pleasure when she understood that the wholejourney was the gift of Jean, the earnings of a year's hard work. Shetook the girl into her arms, held her tight, and kissed her heartily.

  "She who goes a mithering shall find violets in the lanes," she said,quoting the pretty old English proverb. "Ye'll find it so, my dearlassie. Ye'll be the richer all your life for giving your mither and methe chance of meeting again once more on this side the grave, trust me,Jean, ye will."

  "I'm richer already, granny," whispered Jean, warmed through and throughby the words and the embrace. There was no stiffness between her andgrandmother after that. So granny's love was the first thing bought withJean's money.

  "Sandy" was Uncle Andrew's son. His mother had long been dead, and heand his father lived with granny in her flat. He was a manly youngfellow, steady and cheery both, and doing well as clerk in one of thelarge Greenock shipping-houses, with good chances of promotion. Theadvent of a cousin from America was an event in his life. He liked Jeanat once and Jean liked him, so they grew friends speedily.

  Under his guidance, Jean's "violet" gathering went on prosperously.There were many interesting things to see and do in the neighborhood ofGreenock, and of Glasgow, to which place they ran down more than oncein a cheap train. There were rows on the Frith, and walks into thelovely hill country, and visits to the different aunts and cousins, allof whom wanted to see Mrs. Thompson and make acquaintance with Jean, andonce they went as far as Edinburgh with third-class return tickets, andJean saw the wonders of Holyrood, the Castle, and Arthur's Seat. Itseemed to put new color and life into history and all the past, thisglimpse of the places where great things had happened. Jean's interestin books waked up, and as Sandy owned a share in a good People'sLibrary, she was able to get at various histories and fictions which,read on the spot, had a value and meaning which they could not have hadelsewhere. Her mind broadened, she took in more of the width and graspof life, and this mental growth and stimulus was another thing--and avery good one--bought with Jean's money.

  So the short two months sped swiftly away, and the time came to goback. It was a hard parting, as partings must be, where seas rollbetween, and old age makes fresh meetings improbable. But with all itshardness, all of them felt that it had been blessed to meet. Sandy waseven more cast down than granny, but he consoled himself by a longwhispered talk with Jean the last evening, in which he promised to comeout to America in two years from then; and Jean, I am inclined to think,half promised to go back again to Scotland with him. But this is neitherhere nor there in our story, and, as we all know, it is not polite tolisten when people whisper. So the travellers sailed again over the wideAtlantic, the journey not seeming half so long or so hard, now thattheir faces were set the other way; and in a very few days after thehomecoming, all they had seen and done began to recede into dream-likedistance, and they found it almost impossible to realize that they hadgone so far and achieved so much.

  "I told you you would enjoy it," remarked Maria Parsons. People alwaysenjoy being able to say "I told you so."

  "And is your money really all gone?" said little Elsie, "every bit of itgone! And you haven't got one single thing of your own to keep out ofit, Jean. What a pity!"

  "Ah, but I have," replied Jean. But she made no answer to the further"What?"

  "Elsie is sorry that I've spent all my money," she told her father thatnight. "She doesn't think I got much for it. But it seems to me no oneelse ever got so much as I have. I never thought I should learn to liketravelling, father, but I did; I enjoyed it ever so much. Then I knowgranny now, and Uncle Andrew, and I've seen a great deal of Scotland,and mother is so much stronger, and we have so many nice things toremember and think about--that's a great, great deal to get with ahundred and twenty dollars, don't you think so, father? And besides--"

  But here Jean stopped and blushed. I think that blush meant--Sandy.