Books: Keineth

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Produced by Brandon Sussman, Tom Allen, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.

KEINETH

BY

JANE D. ABBOTT

TO ALL THE LITTLE GIRLS I KNOW THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

I. KEINETH'S WORLD CHANGES

II. KEINETH DECIDES

III. OVERLOOK

IV. KEINETH WRITES TO HER FATHER

V. PILOT COMES TO OVERLOOK

VI. THE MUSIC THE FAIRIES PUT IN HER FINGERS

VII. ALICE RUNS AWAY

VIII. A PAGE FROM HISTORY

IX. THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN

X. PILOT IN DISGRACE

XI. PILOT WINS A HOME

XII. A LETTER FROM DADDY

XIII. CAMPING

XIV. THE TENNIS TOURNAMENT

XV. NOT ON THE PROGRAM

XVI. AUNT JOSEPHINE

XVII. SCHOOL DAYS

XVIII. CHRISTMAS

XIX. WHEN THE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT WORKED OVERTIME.

XX. SHADOWS

XXI. PILOT GOES AWAY

XXII. KEINBTH'S GIFT

XXIII. SURPRISES

XXIV. MR. PRESIDENT

XXV. THE CASTLE OF DREAMS

CHAPTER I

KEINETH'S WORLD CHANGES

Keineth Randolph's world seemed suddenly to be turning upside down!

For the past three days there had been no lessons. Keineth had lessons
instead of going to school. She had them sometimes with Madame Henri,
or "Tante" as she called her, and sometimes with her father. If the sun
was very inviting in the morning, lessons would wait until afternoon;
or, if, sitting straight and still in the big room her father called
his study, Keineth found it impossible to think of the book before her,
Tante would say in her prim voice:

"Dreaming, cherie?" and add, "the books will wait!"

Or, if father was hearing the lessons, he would toss aside the book and
beckon to Keineth to sit on his knee. Then he would tell a story. It
would be, perhaps, something about India or they would travel together
through Norway; or it would be Custer's fight with the Indians or the
wanderings of the Acadians through the English Colonies in America, as
portrayed in Longfellow's Evangeline.

But for three days Keineth had had neither lessons nor stories--she had
not even wanted to go out into the park to walk. For her dear Tante,
with a very sad face, was packing her trunks and boxes, and Daddy had
gone out of town.

To-morrow the little woman was going to sail on a Norwegian boat for
Europe. The trip seemed to Keineth to be particularly unusual because
Tante and Daddy had talked so much about it and Tante had waited until
Daddy had gotten her some papers which would take her safely into
Europe. So much talk and the important papers made it seem as though
she was going very far away. Perhaps she did not expect to come back to
America--she stopped so often in her work to kiss Keineth!

Keineth could not remember her own mother, she had died when Keineth
was three years old; and as far back as she could remember Tante had
always taken care of her. These three, the golden-haired delicate
child, the serious-faced Belgian gentlewoman, who had given up a
position in one of New York's schools to go into John Randolph's
household, and the father himself, living for his work and his
daughter, led what might seem to others a very strange life. The man
had kept his home in the old brick house on Washington Square in lower
New York even after the other houses in the square around it gradually
changed from pleasant, neat homes to shabby boarding-houses or rooming
houses with broken windows and railless steps; to dusty lofts; to
cellars where Jews kept and sorted over their filthy rags; to dingy
attic spaces where artists made their studios, turning queer,
dilapidated corners into what they called their homes. The third story
of the Randolph house had been let for "light housekeeping apartments";
Keineth herself had helped tack the little black and gilt sign at the
door. The tenants used the side door that let into the brick-paved
alley. Keineth had always felt a great pride in their home--it was
always neatly painted, their steps shone, and there were no papers
collected behind their iron gratings. Even across the park she could
see the bright geraniums blooming in the windows under Madame Henri's
loving care.

Keineth and Tante had two big sleeping rooms facing the square and
Daddy had a smaller room in the back. Dora, the colored maid who kept
the house in order and cooked breakfast and lunch, went away at night.
The rooms were very large, with high ceilings. The windows were long
and narrow and hung with heavy, dusty curtains. The furniture was very
old and very dull and dark, but Keineth loved the great chairs into
which she could curl herself and read for hours at a time.

There were few children in the square for her to play with. Next door
was an Italian family with eight girls and boys, and Keineth sometimes
joined them in the park. Their father kept a fruit stall in the
basement on one of the streets running off from the square. Francesca,
one of the girls, sang very sweetly, often standing on the corner of
the square and singing Italian folk-songs until she had gathered quite
a crowd around her and had collected considerable money. Keineth loved
to listen to her. But Daddy had asked Keineth never to go alone outside
of the square nor out of sight of the windows of their own home, and
Keineth, all her life, had always wanted to do exactly as her father
asked her.

The evenings to Keineth were the happiest, for, after his work was
finished, Daddy always took her out somewhere for dinner. Sometimes
they would go into queer, small places; rooms lighted by gas-jets,
where they ate on bare tables from off thick white plates. She would
sit very quietly listening while her father talked to the people he
met. It seemed to her that her father knew everybody. Other times they
would go up town on the bus, Keineth clinging tightly to her father's
hand all the way, and they would find a corner in a brightly lighted
hotel dining-room, where the silver and glass sparkled before Keineth's
eyes, where an orchestra, hidden behind big palms, played wonderful
music as they ate, where the air was sweet with the fragrance of
flowers like Joe Massey's stall on the square, and where all the women
were pretty and wore soft furs over shimmering dresses of lovely
colors. Sometimes Tante went with them, looking very prim in her
tailor-made suit of gray woolen cloth and her small gray hat. On these
picnic dinners, as Daddy called them, Daddy was always in rollicking
spirits, keeping up such a torrent of nonsense that Keineth was often
quite exhausted from laughing. Then, when they were back in the old
house, Daddy would pull his big chair close to the lamp, Tante would
take her knitting from the basket in which it was always neatly laid,
and Keineth would sit down at the piano to play for her father "what
the fairies put in her fingers." This had been a little game between
them for a long time--ever since her music lessons with Madame Henri
had begun.

Now--as the child sat balanced on the edge of an old rocker watching
Tante tenderly and carefully placing her books into a heavy box--she
felt that this beloved order of things was changing before her eyes.
For, with Tante gone, who was to take care of her? And heavy on the
child's heart lay the fear that it might be Aunt Josephine.

Aunt Josephine was her very own aunt, her father's sister, and lived in
a very pretentious home at the other end of the city, overlooking the
Hudson River. At a very early age Keineth had guessed that Aunt
Josephine did not approve of the way her Daddy lived; of the tenants on
the third floor; of the sign at the door; of Tante and the
happy-go-lucky lessons; and most of all, her intimacy with the Italian
children. Twice a year Keineth and her Daddy spent a Sunday with Aunt
Josephine, and Keineth could always tell by the way Daddy clasped her
hand and ran down the steps that he was very glad when the day was over
and they could go home. However, Aunt Josephine was pretty and wore
lovely clothes like the women in the big hotels uptown and was really
fond of Daddy, so that Keineth loved her--but she did not want to live
with her!

"Why do you go away from us?" Keineth asked Madame Henri for the
hundredth time.

The little woman dropped a book to kiss the child--also for the
hundredth time.

"I have an old mother, and a sister, and six nephews and nieces over
there--they need me now, more than you do, cherie!"

Keineth knew that she was very unhappy and refrained from asking her
more questions. Daddy had read to her of the suffering in Europe as a
result of the great war, but it seemed hard to picture prim Tante in
the midst of it--perhaps working in the fields and factories, as Daddy
said some of the women and children were doing. Tante had read them
parts of a letter telling of the wounding of her sister's husband at
the battle front and of his death in an English 'hospital, but that had
seemed so very far away that Keineth had not thought much about it. Now
it seemed nearer as she pictured the six little nephews and nieces, the
poor old grandmother--perhaps all hungry and homeless! Keineth suddenly
thought how good it was of Tante to leave their comfortable home and
their jolly dinners and Dora's steaming pancakes to go back to Belgium
to help!

Then--as if the whole day was not queer and different enough, Keineth
suddenly heard her father's quick step on the stairway. He had said he
would not be home until that night! She sprang to the door in time to
rush into his arms as he came down the hallway. He kissed her, on her
nose and eyes, as was his way, but when he lifted his face Keineth saw
that it was very serious, which was not at all like Daddy.

"Run out in the park for a little while, dear. I must talk to Madame
Henri!"

The sun was shining very brightly on the pavements of the streets. The
little leaves on the trees were quivering with new life and the birds
were chirping loudly and busily in the branches, fussing over their
housekeeping. But Keineth's heart was too heavy to respond! She walked
around and around the square, staring miserably at the people who
passed her and always keeping in sight of the long windows where the
pink geraniums shone in the spring sunlight.

Suddenly her heart dropped to her very toes and she had a great deal of
trouble keeping the tears back from her eyes, for a very bright yellow
motor car had stopped at their door, and Keineth knew that it was Aunt
Josephine!

CHAPTER II

KEINETH DECIDES

Keineth waited what seemed to her hours; then retraced her steps to the
house and walked very quietly into the hall. Daddy heard the door close
behind her and called to her from the study. He was sitting at his
desk, tapping the pad before him with the point of a pencil Aunt
Josephine sat on the old horse-hair sofa, looking very excited, and
Tante, a pile of books still clasped in her arm and a smudge of dust
across her straight features, stood near the window.

"I think it's high time you used a little sense in the way you bring up
that child, John. You'll ruin her!"

Keineth's father smiled across at Keineth as much as to say: "Never
mind, dear," but he listened gravely as his sister went on:

"I think it's the best thing that could happen--Madame Henri going away
and you called on this trip--"

"Wait a moment, Josephine; Keineth does not know yet--"

"Daddy!" cried the child, running to him.

"Just a moment, dear," he whispered, as he drew her between his knees
and laid his cheek against her hair.

Aunt Josephine looked very much in earnest. Keineth could not remember
a time when she had seemed more concerned over hers and Daddy's
welfare!

"Now I can take Keineth with me until July. Then when I go on that
yachting cruise she can go to some camp in the mountains--there are
ever so many good ones. And next fall I can put her into a school.
She's too old to go on living as you are living."

Now the world had turned upside down! Keineth pressed suddenly close to
her father. He tightened the clasp of her arm.

"Wait a moment, sister. We have two or three days to talk this over. I
must get Madame Henri safely started and then Keineth and I will make
our plans." As he said this he squeezed the child's hand. "You're
awfully good to offer to take my little girl and I know you'd try your
best to make her happy." He stepped toward the door. Aunt Josephine
rose, too.

"Well, you'd better follow my advice," she said crisply. She almost
always concluded their interviews in this manner when they had to do
with Daddy's household. This time she stopped on her way to the door to
place her hands on Keineth's shoulders and let her eyes sweep Keineth's
little face.

"I'd make an up-to-date child of her, John. She's got her mother's eyes
but the Randolph features. With a little grooming she'd make a beauty.
And the first thing I'd do would be to put a decent frock on her!"

Keineth knew that Aunt Josephine meant to be kind but, hurt at her
criticism, she drew away from her aunt's clasp. As her aunt and father
went out she looked down wonderingly at the simple blue serge she wore.
Tante had always had her dresses made at a little shop on lower Fifth
Avenue and Keineth had always thought them very nice.

Madame Henri, muttering to herself, went out of the room. Keineth stood
very still until her father came back. He shut the door and went to his
desk. She ran to him and hid her face on his shoulder.

"Daddy--are you--going away?"

"Yes, child--I must."

"For all summer? For all winter?"

"Yes, dear. I think it may be a year."

"Daddy--" began Keineth, then stopped short to hide her face. Father
must not see her cry!

"I'll make a little picture for you, dear. This country of ours is like
a great big house. It's like all the homes all over the United States
put into one. And it must be tended just as we'd tend our own little
home--it must be kept in repair. It must be kept clean and have pretty
spots, just like Madame Henri's geraniums! And it must be guarded, too,
from those who would break in and steal what belongs in the home--or
tear it down and make a ruin of it! And it must know its neighbors and
work with them to keep everything peaceful and tidy about the whole
street of nations! Don't you remember how I had to argue with Signora
Ferocci to make her clean up her back alley?"

They both laughed together over the recollection of their efforts to
persuade their next-door neighbor of the joys of cleanliness!

"Every person, big and small, should do his part toward the
home-keeping of this big land of ours. And I have been asked to do a
service. Soldiers can't do it all, my dear--only a very small part of
it! There are a great many others--men like myself--who are going out
over the world to work for the Stars and Stripes. And when I have been
asked to go on a mission for our country that is very important, even
though it takes me very far and keeps me away a very long time, I am
sure my loyal little American girl will be the first to bid me go!"

Keineth's eyes were quite dry now and were very bright. She sat up very
straight. She had entirely forgotten herself.

"Will you wear a uniform, Daddy?"

"Oh, dear me, no--my work is not of that sort, In fact, I must go about
in the quietest manner possible. I cannot even tell my little girl
where I am going."

"You mean it's a secret?" the child cried.

"Yes, until I return. I must ask you to tell no one that I have gone
for the government. We may fail--the newspapers must not know yet.
Everyone must think I am simply travelling."

Keineth was silent and perplexed. It did not occur to her to ask her
father why she could not go with him. He had often gone away before and
she had always stayed in the old house with Tante. But it had never
been for a whole year!

Suddenly she cried out: "I'll be very brave, but--oh, Daddy!"

He laughed, although he held her very close.

"Do you think, my dear, I would go away until I felt very certain that
you were going to be happy? I'm not sure how well you'd like it at Aunt
Josephine's--it would be very different. Still--you'd have that French
maid of hers for a nurse and go out with her and Fido for his walk and
ride in the yellow motor and have all kinds of frilled dresses and
feathered hats--" He was imitating Aunt Josephine's voice in a very
funny manner that made Keineth laugh.

Keineth thought very quickly of all the things she loved to do that she
knew Aunt Josephine would not allow her to do, but she did not want to
speak of them, for it might make her Daddy unhappy. Her father went on,
more seriously:

"But I have another plan. I will tell you about It and you may choose
between that and Aunt Josephine's." (Keineth suddenly felt very grown
up.) "Coming up from Washington I ran into Mr. William Lee, an old
friend of mine--a man I knew in college. I used to think the world of
him. I hadn't seen him for fifteen years! He lives in the western part
of the state. I knew Mrs. Lee, too,--she was a friend of your mother's
and they were very fond of one another. We talked for a long time over
old times. He showed me kodak pictures of his children--he has four. Do
you know what I thought when I looked at them?"

"What, Daddy?"

"That I was cheating my little girl out of a great deal that every
child has a right to--the pure joy of giving. When I looked at those
youngsters of his--husky, bare-armed, round-cheeked children, I knew
they were getting a lot of happiness you'd never know in this little
corner of ours--the kind of happiness you can only have when you are
young." Keineth was puzzled. "What do you mean, Daddy?"

"Oh, running, jumping, swimming--tennis--baseball! Why, the knowing
other children well--even the quarrelling," he stopped, frowning. "I
had it all when I was little and here I am cheating you. Aunt Josephine
is right when she says I'm not fair to you--but I don't think you'd get
it even with her!"

"But I don't know anything about all those things, Daddy."

"That's just it! You can learn, though. I told Mr. Lee that I had to go
away, and about you, and he asked me if I wouldn't let you go to them
for the year. They have a summer home on the shore of Lake Erie and
almost live out-of-doors. I said no at first--it seemed too much to ask
of them, but he persisted and wouldn't take no for an answer. He is
coming here to-night to talk it over. I think now--it might be the
thing to do. Mrs. Lee loved your mother very, very dearly, and I know
would be very good to you."

He gently lifted her down from off his knee, which meant that he had
work to do and that Keineth must leave the room. She sought out Tante
upstairs. The good woman had closed her last box and was dressed ready
to start on her long trip, although the boat would not leave until the
next day. She was knitting, so Keineth took a book and sat near the
window pretending to read. Her eyes wandered off the page and her poor
little mind was busy at work trying to decide which she would dislike
the least--living with Aunt Josephine and walking with Fido and the
French maid and going to a strange camp and a strange school, or going
off to a strange place and living among strange people and playing
strange games! She wanted dreadfully to cry, but Tante was so quiet and
so miserable, and Daddy was so serious that she could not add in any
way to what seemed to trouble them.

So--although Francesca, the little Italian singer, was skipping rope on
the pavement below the window, and a robin was calling lustily to its
mate in a nearby horse-chestnut tree, and a vender was peddling his
wares down the street in a voice that sounded like a slow-pealing bell,
poor Keineth felt as if she could never be really happy again! That
night Daddy and Keineth went uptown for dinner. In one of the hotels
they met Mr. Lee. Keineth's heart was pounding with dread beneath her
neat serge dress and she was almost afraid to look at the man. But when
he took her hand in his and spoke in a kindly voice, she ventured a
timid glance and saw a big man, taller and heavier than her father,
with a jolly smile and eyes that laughed from under their shaggy
eyebrows. Then she felt that she liked him--and the more because he had
such an affectionate way of laying his hand on her father's shoulder.

While they talked together Mr. Lee watched her very closely. Once he
said to her father:

"My wife will love the little girl--she is so like her mother!" There
had been a long silence then, and Keineth had seen the look in her
father's eyes that meant his thoughts were back in the past. Later Mr.
Lee had added: "Why, John--you won't know the child after a summer with
us--those cheeks will all be roses and her little body plump. And how
the kiddies will love her!"

Keineth had been shown the kodak pictures and had studied them closely.
The very big girl was Barbara, who was seventeen. The boy was Billy,
aged fourteen. Peggy was Keineth's age--twelve, and the little one,
Alice, was eight. They all wore middy blouses in the picture and Peggy
and Alice were barefooted. Keineth thought, as she looked at their
laughing faces, that they were very unlike any children she had ever
seen anywhere.

They took Mr. Lee to their home. Keineth played on the piano for
them--not her own fairy things, but a simple little piece she had
learned with much precision from Madame Henri. Then she and Tante went
upstairs. Daddy had whispered to her as she kissed him good-night:

"You must decide yourself, dear!"

Keineth had thought that when she was quite alone in her bedroom she
would cry, for then it would disturb no one and she really had a great
deal to cry about. But Madame Henri lingered a long time by her bed,
standing close to it with a very white face. Finally she knelt beside
it and laid her cheek against Keineth's hands. Keineth felt hot tears
which surprised her, for she did not know that Tante knew how to cry.
Then Tante began to pray--a queer sort of prayer, all broken: "Oh, God,
oh, God, keep this little girl safe from the things that hurt! Keep all
the little ones! Why should they suffer? Where is your mercy?" Then she
said a great deal in French so fast that Keineth could not understand
her and finally, sobbing violently, she rushed out of the room, leaving
Keineth very disturbed. She thought that poor Tante must love her very
much and she supposed the prayer was for the little children in Europe
who were starving, as well as for her--Keineth Randolph! Madame Henri's
good heart so moved her that she jumped out of bed to kneel beside it
and add what she had forgotten in her concern over herself!

"God bless dear, dear Tante and keep her safe!"

Then, feeling very excited, Keineth went to sleep without crying and
dreamed of running barefooted with Peggy through fields all white with
daisies, while in the distance at a fence like the rail fences in
pictures, stood Aunt Josephine's awful French maid with Fido under her
arm, screaming at her in French.

So vivid seemed the dream that it awakened Keineth. She listened for a
moment. She could hear the click of her father's typewriter. She
pressed the button that lighted her bed lamp, found her slippers and
stole noiselessly downstairs. Never in her whole life had she disturbed
her Daddy when he was writing, but now she did not even rap--she pushed
the door open and ran to him.

"Daddy, Daddy--" she cried as though still pursued by the screaming
French maid. "Please--I'd rather go to the Lee's!"

CHAPTER III

OVERLOOK

"The next station is Fairview, Keineth--watch out for the kiddies,"
said Mr. Lee, rising from the car seat.

Keineth had been sitting for a half hour with her nose flattened
against the car window, not seeing at all the fields and farmhouses
that flew past her, but trying to picture what Peggy would be like!
Keineth was very excited and a little tired from the night in the
sleeper; she was fighting back the thought that she would not see Daddy
for a long, long time. Daddy had gone with them to the station the
night before, and had helped her undress in the queer little shelf he
called a berth and had himself pulled the blankets close around her
chin and kissed her again and again.

"Little soldier--right face," he whispered--and Keineth knew that he
meant she should be very brave over it all. Then he had hurried off the
train, for the conductor was shouting: "All aboard----" and Keineth,
peeping from under her curtain for a last look, had seen his tall
figure go down the dimly-lighted platform.

The engine whistled and slowed down. Keineth took up the new bag which
had been Aunt Josephine's present to her, and followed Mr. Lee to the
door. Around the corner of his arm she saw a freckled-faced boy running
close to the car step, and beyond him two little girls.

The taller of the two must, of course, be Peggy! Keineth saw a
bob-headed, slim child of about her own height, brown as a berry.

"Dad--Dad," they cried, running forward as Mr. Lee stepped down from
the train almost strangled in Billy's hug. In their joy at seeing their
father the girls did not notice Keineth, who stood shyly back, wishing
the ground would open and swallow her up.

But the ground under the station platform was unusually solid! In a
moment Keineth felt three pairs of eyes upon her as Mr. Lee turned and
said:

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10