The Yates Pride | Page 6

Suddenly he seized
the boy by his two thin little shoulders with knotted old hands.
"Look at here, Tommy, whatever you know, you keep your mouth shet,
and whatever you don't know, you keep your mouth shet, if you know
what's good for you," he said, in a fierce whisper.
The boy whistled and shrugged his shoulders loose. "You know I ain't
goin' to tell tales, grandpa," he said, in a curiously manly fashion.
The old man nodded. "All right, Tommy. I don't believe you be, nuther,
but you may jest as well git it through your head what's goin' to happen
if you do."
"Ain't goin' to," returned the boy. He whistled charmingly as he raked
the leaves. His whistle sounded like the carol of a bird.
Eudora pushed the carriage around to the side door, and immediately
there was a fluttering rush of a slender woman clad in lavender down
the steps. This woman first kissed Eudora with gentle fervor, then, with
a sly look around and voice raised intentionally high, she lifted the blue
and white roll from the carriage with the tenderest care. "Did the
darling come to see his aunties?" she shrilled.
The old man and the boy in the front yard heard her distinctly. The old
man's face was imperturbable. The boy grinned.
Two other women, all clad in lavender, appeared in the doorway. They
also bent over the blue and white bundle. They also said something
about the darling coming to see his aunties. Then there ensued the
softest chorus of lady-laughter, as if at some hidden joke.
"Come in, Eudora dear," said Amelia Lancaster. "Yes, come in, Eudora
dear," said Anna Lancaster. "Yes, come in, Eudora dear," said Sophia
Willing.
Sophia looked much older than her sisters, but with that exception the
resemblance between all three was startling. They always dressed

exactly alike, too, in silken fabric of bluish lavender, like myrtle
blossoms. Some of the poetical souls in the village called the Lancaster
sisters "The ladies in lavender."
There was an astonishing change in the treatment of the blue and white
bundle when the sisters and Eudora were in the stately old sitting-room,
with its heavy mahogany furniture and its white-wainscoted calls.
Amelia simply tossed the bundle into a corner of the sofa; then the
sisters all sat in a loving circle around Eudora.
"Are you sure you are not utterly worn out, dear?" asked Amelia,
tenderly; and the others repeated the question in exactly the same tone.
The Lancaster sisters were not pretty, but all had charming expressions
of gentleness and a dignified good-will and loving kindness. Their blue
eyes beamed love at Eudora, and it was as if she sat encircled in a
soul-ring of affection.
She responded, and her beautiful face glowed with tenderness and
pleasure, and something besides, which was as the light of victory.
"I am not in the least tired, thank you, dears," she replied. "Why should
I be tired? I am very strong."
Amelia murmured something about such hard work.
"I never thought it would be hard work taking care of a baby," replied
Eudora, "and especially such a very light baby."
Something whimsical crept into Eudora's voice; something whimsical
crept into the love-light of the other women's eyes. Again a soft ripple
of mirth swept over them.
"Especially a baby who never cries," said Amelia.
"No, he never does cry," said Eudora, demurely.
They laughed again. Then Amelia rose and left the room to get the
tea-things. The old serving-woman who had lived with them for many

years was suffering from rheumatism, and was cared for by her
daughter in the little cottage across the road from the Lancaster house.
Her husband and grandson were the man and boy at work in the
grounds. The three sisters took care of themselves and their house with
the elegant ease and lack of fluster of gentlewomen born and bred. Miss
Amelia, bringing in the tea-tray, was an unclassed being, neither maid
nor mistress, but outranking either. She had tied on a white apron. She
bore the silver tray with an ease which bespoke either nerve or muscle
in her lace-draped arms.
She poured the tea, holding the silver pot high and letting the amber
fluid trickle slowly, and the pearls and diamonds on her thin hands
shone dully. Sophia passed little china plates and fringed napkins, and
Anna a silver basket with golden squares of sponge-cake.
The ladies ate and drank, and the blue and white bundle on the sofa
remained motionless. Eudora, after she had finished her tea, leaned
back gracefully in her chair, and her dark eyes gleamed with its mild
stimulus. She remained an hour or more. When she went out, Amelia
slipped an envelope into her hand and at the same time embraced