THE STORY OF LESLIE MOORE
"Yes, the eighth baby arrived a fortnight ago," said Miss Cornelia, from a rocker before the fire of the little house one chilly October afternoon. "It's a girl. Fred was ranting mad--said he wanted a boy--when the truth is he didn't want it at all. If it had been a boy he'd have ranted because it wasn't a girl. They had four girls and three boys before, so Ican't see that it made much difference what this one was, but of course he'd have to be cantankerous, just like a man. The baby is real pretty, dressed up in its nice little clothes. It has black eyes and the dearest, tiny hands.""I must go and see it. I just love babies," said Anne, smiling to herself over a thought too dear and sacred to be put into words.
"I don't say but what they're nice," admitted Miss Cornelia. "But some folks seem to have more than they really need, believe ME. My poor cousin Flora up at the Glen had eleven, and such a slave as she is! Her husband suicided three years ago. Just like a man!""What made him do that?" asked Anne, rather shocked.
"Couldn't get his way over something, so he jumped into the well . A good riddance! He was a born tyrant.
But of course it spoiled the well. Flora could never abide the thought of using it again, poor thing! So she had another dug and a frightful expense it was, and the water as hard as nails. If he HAD to drown himself there was plenty of water in the harbor, wasn't there?
I've no patience with a man like that. We've only had two suicides in Four Winds in my recollection. The other was Frank West--Leslie Moore's father. By the way, has Leslie ever been over to call on you yet?""No, but I met her on the shore a few nights ago and we scraped an acquaintance," said Anne, pricking up her ears.
Miss Cornelia nodded.
"I'm glad, dearie. I was hoping you'd foregather with her. What do you think of her?""I thought her very beautiful."
"Oh, of course. There was never anybody about Four Winds could touch her for looks. Did you ever see her hair? It reaches to her feet when she lets it down.
But I meant how did you like her?"
"I think I could like her very much if she'd let me,"said Anne slowly.
"But she wouldn't let you--she pushed you off and kept you at arm's length. Poor Leslie! You wouldn't be much surprised if you knew what her life has been.
It's been a tragedy--a tragedy!" repeated Miss Cornelia emphatically.
"I wish you would tell me all about her--that is, if you can do so without betraying any confidence.""Lord, dearie, everybody in Four Winds knows poor Leslie's story. It's no secret--the OUTSIDE, that is.
Nobody knows the INSIDE but Leslie herself, and she doesn't take folks into her confidence. I'm about the best friend she has on earth, I reckon, and she's never uttered a word of complaint to me. Have you ever seen Dick Moore?""No."
"Well, I may as well begin at the beginning and tell you everything straight through, so you'll understand it. As I said, Leslie's father was Frank West. He was clever and shiftless--just like a man. Oh, he had heaps of brains--and much good they did him! He started to go to college, and he went for two years, and then his health broke down. The Wests were all inclined to be consumptive. So Frank came home and started farming. He married Rose Elliott from over harbor. Rose was reckoned the beauty of Four Winds--Leslie takes her looks from her mother, but she has ten times the spirit and go that Rose had, and a far better figure. Now you know, Anne, I always take the ground that us women ought to stand by each other.
We've got enough to endure at the hands of the men, the Lord knows, so I hold we hadn't ought to clapper-claw one another, and it isn't often you'll find me running down another woman. But I never had much use for Rose Elliott. She was spoiled to begin with, believe ME, and she was nothing but a lazy, selfish, whining creature. Frank was no hand to work, so they were poor as Job's turkey. Poor! They lived on potatoes and point, believe ME. They had two children--Leslie and Kenneth. Leslie had her mother's looks and her father's brains, and something she didn't get from either of them. She took after her Grandmother West--a splendid old lady. She was the brightest, friendliest, merriest thing when she was a child, Anne. Everybody liked her. She was her father's favorite and she was awful fond of him. They were `chums,' as she used to say. She couldn't see any of his faults--and he WAS a taking sort of man in some ways.
"Well, when Leslie was twelve years old, the first dreadful thing happened. She worshipped little Kenneth--he was four years younger than her, and he WASa dear little chap. And he was killed one day--fell off a big load of hay just as it was going into the barn, and the wheel went right over his little body and crushed the life out of it. And mind you, Anne, Leslie saw it. She was looking down from the loft. She gave one screech--the hired man said he never heard such a sound in all his life--he said it would ring in his ears till Gabriel's trump drove it out. But she never screeched or cried again about it. She jumped from the loft onto the load and from the load to the floor, and caught up the little bleeding, warm, dead body, Anne--they had to tear it from her before she would let it go. They sent for me--I can't talk of it."Miss Cornelia wiped the tears from her kindly brown eyes and sewed in bitter silence for a few minutes.
"Well," she resumed, "it was all over--they buried little Kenneth in that graveyard over the harbor, and after a while Leslie went back to her school and her studies. She never mentioned Kenneth's name--I've never heard it cross her lips from that day to this. Ireckon that old hurt still aches and burns at times;but she was only a child and time is real kind to children, Anne, dearie. After a while she began to laugh again--she had the prettiest laugh. You don't often hear it now.""I heard it once the other night," said Anne. "It ISa beautiful laugh."
