CHAPTER VIII

Chemical Experiments

"Eleanor! Eleanor! where are you?" cried Constance at the foot of the third-story stairs the following day after luncheon.

Blue Monday had passed with its dull gray clouds and chill winds to give place to one of those rare, warm days which sometimes come to us late in October, as though the glorious autumn were loath to depart and had turned back for a last smile upon the land it loved.

The great river lay like shimmering liquid gold, the air was filled with the warm, pungent odors of the late autumn woods, and a soft haze rested upon the opposite hills.

"Here in my room," answered Eleanor. "What is it? What do you want? I can't come just this minute. Come up if it's important." The voice was somewhat muffled as though the speaker's head were covered.

Constance bounded up the stairs, hurried across the hall and entered the large third-story front room which Eleanor occupied. There was no sign of its occupant.

"More experiments I dare say," she murmured as she entered, crossed the room and pushed open the door leading into a small adjoining room whereupon her nostrils were assailed by odors _not_ of Araby--the blessed.

"Phew! Ugh! What an awful smell! What under the sun are you doing? If you don't blow yourself to glory some day I shall be thankful," she ended as she pinched her nostrils together.

"Shut the door quick and don't let the smell get through the house or mother will go crazy when she gets home. Yes, it _is_ pretty bad, but tie your handkerchief over your nose and then you won't mind it so much. As for blowing myself to glory, perhaps that will be my only way of ever coming by any, so I ought to be willing to take that route. But what do you want?" concluded Eleanor, pouring one smelly chemical into a small glass which contained another, whereupon it instantly became a most exquisite shade of crimson.

Constance watched her closely without speaking. Presently she said:

"Well I dare say it is 'everyone to her fancy,' as the old lady said when she kissed her cow (Jean could appreciate that, couldn't she? She kisses Baltie often enough) but _I'd_ rather be excused when chemical experiments are in order. Don't for the life of me understand how you endure the smells and the mess. What is _that_ horrid looking thing over there?" and Constance pointed to a grewsome-looking object stretched upon a small glass table at the farther side of the room.

"My rabbit. I got it at the school laboratory and I've been examining its respiratory organs. They're perfectly wonderful, Constance. Want to see them? I'll be done with this in just a minute."

"_No I don't!_" was the empathic negative. "I dare say it's all very wonderful and interesting and I ought to know all about breathing apparatus----_es_, or apparatti, or whatever the plural of our wind-pump machine _is_, but if I've got to learn by hashing up animals I'll never, _never_ know, and that's all there is about it. I'll take my knowledge on theory or supposition or whatever you call it. But I've nearly forgotten to tell you the news. I've had a letter from Mrs. Hadyn, Mr. Stuyvesant's aunt, the one he is named for you know, asking me to help at the candy counter at the Memorial Hospital Fair, week after next, and, incidentally, contribute some of my 'delicious pralines and nut fudge'--that's in quotes remember,--and remain for the dance which will follow after ten-thirty on the closing evening. She will see that I reach home safely. How is _that_ for a frolic? I've been wild for a dance the past month."

"Is mother willing? What will you wear?" was the essentially feminine inquiry which proved that Eleanor, even though absorbed in her sciences and isms, was a woman at heart.

"What is the use of asking that? You know I've got to wear whatever is on hand to be utilized into gay and festive attire. I can't indulge in new frocks now-a-days when the finances are at such a low ebb. Need all we've got for necessities without thinking of spending money for notions. But I'll blossom out gloriously; see if I don't. That was one reason I came up to talk to you. Can you tear yourself away from your messes long enough to come up to the attic with me? I've been wanting to rummage for days, but haven't been able to get around to it. So tidy up, and come along. You've absorbed enough knowledge to last you for one while."

Eleanor wavered a moment and then began to put aside her materials, and a few moments later the two girls were up in the attic.

"Do you know what I believe I'll do?" said Constance, after a half hour's rummaging among several trunks had brought forth a perplexing array of old finery, winter garments and outgrown apparel. "I believe I'll just cart down every solitary dud we've got here and have them all aired. I heard mother say last week that they ought to be, and she would have it done the first clear, dry day, and this one is simply heavenly. Come on; take an armful and get busy. They smell almost as abominably from tar camphor as your laboratory smells of chemicals."

"Think I'd rather have the chemicals if my choice were consulted," laughed Eleanor as obedient to instructions, she gathered up an armful of clothing and prepared to descend the stairs.

"Thanks, I'll take the tar. Go on; I'll follow."

Little was to be seen of either girl as she moved slowly down the stairs. At the foot stood Mammy.

"Fo' de Lawd sake wha' yo' chillen at _now_?" she demanded as she stood barring their progress.

"Bringing out our winter wardrobes, Mammy. Good deal of it as to quantity; what it will turn out as to quality remains to be seen," cried Constance cheerily.

"Lak' 'nough mos' anyt'ing if yo' had de handlin' ob it. Yo' sartin' _is_ de banginest chile wid yo' han's," was Mammy's flattering reply.

"Perhaps if I could 'bang' as well with my brains as with my hands I might amount to something, Mammy. But Nornie has all the brains of the family. _She_'ll make our fame and fortune some day; see if she doesn't."

"Guess I'll have to do something clever then if I am to become famous in _this_ day and age," said Eleanor, as she made her way past Mammy. "Thus far I haven't given very noble promise."

"Who sesso?" demanded Mammy. "Ain' yo' de fust and fo'most up dere whar de school's at? What fur ole Miss sendin' yo' dar fer den? Huh, I reckon _she_ know whar ter spen' her money, an' Gawd knows she ain' spendin' none what ain' gwine ter pintedly make up fer all she gin out. _She_ no fool, I tell yo'."

The girls broke into peals of laughter, for Mammy's estimation of "ol' Miss," as she called Mr. Carruth's aunt by marriage, was a pretty accurate one, "Aunt Eleanor" being a lady who had very pronounced ideas and no hesitation whatever in giving expression to them, as well as a very strong will to back them up. She also had a pretty liberally supplied purse, the supply being drawn from a large estate which she had inherited from her father, a Central New York farmer, who had made a fortune in fruit-growing and ended his days in affluence, although he had begun them in poverty. She had no children, her only son having died when a child, and her husband soon afterward. Bernard Carruth had always been a favorite with her, although she never forgave him for what she pronounced his "utter and imbecilic folly." It was Aunt Eleanor who made the seminary possible for the niece who had been named for her; a compliment which flattered the old lady more than she chose to let others suspect, for the niece was manifesting a fine mind, and the aunt had secretly resolved to do not a little toward its development although she took pains to guard the fact.

"Go along up-stairs and get an armful of things, Mammy. That will keep you from flattering me and making me conceited," cried Eleanor, when the laugh ended.

"Huh! Mek a Blairsdale 'ceited?" retorted Mammy, as she started up to the attic. "Dey's got too much what dey _knows_ is de right stuff fer ter pester dey haids studyin' 'bout it; it's right dar all de endurin' time; dey ain' gotter chase atter it lessen dey loses it."

"Was there ever such a philosopher as Mammy?" laughed Constance as they got beyond hearing.

"Wish there were a few more with as much sound sense--black or white--" answered Eleanor as she shook out one of Jean's frocks and hung it across the clothes-line.

A moment later Mammy joined them with more garments which cried aloud for the glorious fresh air and sunshine. She hung piece after piece upon the line, giving a shake here, a pat there, or almost a caress upon another, for each one recalled to her loving old heart the memory of more prosperous days, and each held its story for her. When all were swinging in the sunshine she stepped back and surveyed the array, her mouth pursed up quizzically, but her eyes full of kindness.

"What are you thinking of Mammy?" asked Constance, slipping her fingers into Mammy's work-hardened hand very much as she had done when a little child.

"Hum; Um: What's I t'inkin' of? I'se t'inkin' dat ar lot ob clo'se supin lak we-all here: De'y good stuff in um, an' I reckon dey c'n stan' 'spection, on'y dey sartin _do_ stan' in need ob jist a _leetle_ spondulix fer ter put em in shape. Dar's _too much_ ob em spread all _ober_. What dey needs is ter rip off some o' dem _ruffles_ and jis hang ter de plain frocks ter tek keer ob. We spen's a heap ob time breshin' ruffles dat we better spen' tekin' keer ob de frocks in," concluded Mammy with a sage nod as she turned and walked into the house.

"Upon my word I believe Mammy's pretty near right Eleanor. We _have_ got a good many _ruffles_ to take care of on this big place and I sometimes feel that mother is wearing herself out caring for them. Perhaps we would be wiser to give them up."

"Perhaps we would," agreed Eleanor, "but where will we go if we give up the home? We have hardly known any other, for we were both too little to think much about homes or anything else when we came into this one. For my part, I am ready to do whatever is best and wisest, although I love every stick and stone here. Mother has looked terribly worried lately although she hasn't said one word to me. Has she to you?

"No, nothing at all. But I know what you mean; her eyes look so tired. I wonder if anything new has arisen to make her anxious. She says so little at any time. I mean to have a talk with her this evening if I can get a chance. Do you get Jean out of the way. She is such an everlasting chatterbox that there is no hope of a quiet half hour while she is around. Now let's take an inventory of this array and plan my frivolity frock," and Constance drew Eleanor down upon a rustic seat at one side of the lawn to discuss the absorbing question of the new gown to be evolved from some of the old ones which were swaying in the wind.

Perhaps a half hour passed, the girls were giving little heed to time, for the drowsy dreamy influence of the afternoon was impressing itself upon them. Constance had planned the gown to the minutest detail, Eleanor agreeing and secretly marveling at her ability to do so, when both became aware of a strong odor of smoke.

"What is burning, I wonder?" said Constance, glancing in the direction of a patch of woodland not far off.

"Leaves, most likely. The Henrys' gardener has burned piles and piles of them ever since they began falling. I shouldn't think there would be any left for him to burn," answered Eleanor, looking in the same direction.

"It doesn't smell like leaves, it smells like wood, and--oh! Eleanor, Eleanor, look! look at your window! The smoke is just pouring from it! The house is a-fire! Run! Run! Quick! Quick!"