"A millstone and the human heart,Are ever driven round,And if they've nothing else to grind,They must themselves be ground."It seemed to me that my mother was the person who really could have been excused for having heart trouble.The more I watched her,the more I wondered that she didn't.There was her own life,the one she and father led,where everything went exactly as she wanted it to;and if there had been only themselves to think of,no people on earth could have lived happier,unless the pain she sometimes suffered made them trouble,and I don't think it would,for neither of them were to blame for that.They couldn't help it.They just had it to stand,and fight the stiffest they could to cure it,and mother always said she was better;every single time any one asked,she was better.I hoped soon it would all be gone.Then they could have been happy for sure,if some of us hadn't popped up and kept them in hot water all the time.
I can't tell you about Laddie when he came back from Pryors'.He tore down the house,then tore it up,and then threw around the pieces,and none of us cared.Every one was just laughing,shouting,and every bit as pleased as he was,while I was the Queen Bee.Laddie said so,himself,and if he didn't know,no one did.Pryors had been lovely to him.When mother asked him how he made it,he answered:"I rode over,picked up the Princess and helped myself.After I finished,I remembered the little unnecessary formality of asking her to marry me;and she said right out loud that she WOULD.When I had time for them,I reached Father and Mother Pryor,and maybe it doesn't show,but somewhere on my person I carry their blessing,genially and heartily given,I am proud to state.Now,I'm only needing yours,to make me a king among men."They gave it quite as willingly,I am sure,although you could see mother scringe when Laddie said "Father and Mother Pryor."I knew why.She adored Laddie,like the Bible says you must adore the Almighty.From a tiny baby Laddie had taken care of her.He used to go back,take her hand,and try to help her over rough places while he still wore dresses.Straight on,he had been like that;always seeing when there was too much work and trying to shield her;always knowing when a pain was coming and fighting to head it off;always remembering the things the others forgot,going to her last at night,and his face against hers on her pillow the first in the morning,to learn how she was before he left the house.If you were the mother of a man like that,how would you like to hear him call some one else mother,and have the word slip from his tongue so slick you could see he didn't even realize that he had used it?The answer would be,if you were honest,that you wouldn't have liked it any more than she did.She knew he had to go.She wanted him to be happy.She was as sure of the man he was going to be as she was sure of the mercy of God.That is the strongest way I know to tell it.She was unshakably sure of the mercy of God,but I wasn't.There were times when it seemed as if He couldn't hear the most powerful prayer you could pray,and when instead of mercy,you seemed to get the last torment that could be piled on.Take right now.Laddie was happy,and all of us were,in a way;and in another we were almost stiff with misery.
I dreaded his leaving us so,I would slip to the hawk oak and cry myself sick,more than once;whether any of the others were that big babies I don't know;but anyway,THEY were not his Little Sister.I was.I always had been.I always would be,for that matter;but there was going to be a mighty big difference.I had the poor comfort that I'd done the thing myself.Maybe if it hadn't been for stopping the Princess when I took him that pie,they never would have made up,and she might have gone across the sea and stayed there.Maybe she'd go yet,as mysteriously as she had come,and take him along.Sometimes I almost wished I hadn't tried to help him;but of course I didn't really.Then,too,I had sense enough to know that loving each other as they did,they wouldn't live on that close together for years and years,and not find a way to make up for themselves,like they had at the start.
I liked Laddie saying I had made his happiness for him;but I wasn't such a fool that I didn't know he could have made it for himself just as well,and no doubt better.So everything was all right with Laddie;and what happened to us,the day he rode away for the last time,when he went to stay--what happened to us,then,was our affair.We had to take it,but every one of us dreaded it,while mother didn't know how to bear it,and neither did I.Once I said to her:"Mother,when Laddie goes we'll just have to make it up to each other the best we can,won't we?""Oh my soul,child!"she cried,staring at me so surprised-like.
"Why,how unspeakably selfish I have been!No little lost sheep ever ran this farm so desolate as you will be without your brother.Forgive me baby,and come here!"Gee,but we did cry it out together!The God she believed in has wiped away her tears long ago;this minute I can scarcely see the paper for mine.If you could call anything happiness,that was mixed with feeling like that,why,then,we were happy about Laddie.But from things I heard father and mother say,I knew they could have borne his going away,and felt a trifle better than they did.I was quite sure they had stopped thinking that he was going to lose his soul,but they couldn't help feeling so long as that old mystery hung over Pryors that he might get into trouble through it.Father said if it hadn't been for Mr.
Pryor's stubborn and perverted notions about God,he would like the man immensely,and love to be friends;and if Laddie married into the family we would have to be as friendly as we could anyway.He said he had such a high opinion of Mr.Pryor's integrity that he didn't believe he'd encourage Laddie to enter his family if it would involve the boy in serious trouble.
Mother didn't know.Anyway,the thing was done,and by fall,no doubt,Laddie would leave us.
