it was not until after they had gone, when kit was by herself, that she remembered all billie had told her, at the very last of his stay.
they had walked along the lake shore together, a little behind the others, after the beaubien family had been visited.
"you haven't told me anything at all," kit said, "about home. when were you in gilead last?"
"just before we came west," billie answered.
"was everything all right?" billie hesitated. "oh, for heaven's sake, billie, tell me if there is anything. you can't give me any nervous shocks at all, and i'm dying to find an excuse to get back home."
"why, there isn't anything the matter, exactly," billie said, cheerfully, but with a certain reservation in his tone, that made kit long to get him with a good grip in his curly hair and shake him the way she used to do two years ago. "the only thing that i know about, i heard grandfather telling uncle jerry. i don't suppose i ought to repeat it either."
"billie, i wish i could shake you right here by the michigander sea. how dare you keep back any news of my family from me?"
"it was something about there not being any more dividends until after the war, on some stock. i guess it hit grandfather, too, but i heard him say that there wasn't a farm up there that couldn't support itself, properly run, and he guessed they'd all weather the storm."
kit frowned heavily.
"stock," she repeated with scorn. "the very idea, anyway, of taking real money and giving it away for a lot of little certificates. if i had money i'd put it in a nice clean, dry, covered tin pail, and hang it down my well, just like jerushy said she always did when she had a ten-dollar bill around that worried her. and there dad's got all the expense of rebuilding greenacres. it's going to be a regular white elephant, i'm afraid, because it isn't all paid for anyway, and there's the yearly interest." she hesitated before she added, slowly, "i wonder why on earth it is, bill ellis, that the people with the most children who need the most money always seem to be hunting for it, and these nice, old, placid darlings, like the dean and miss daphne, have simply got oodles planted away somewhere, and never have to think twice over where the next windfall is coming from."
but billie was inclined to take an optimistic view of the whole affair.
"grandfather said that there was no cause for worry; it was just a case of pitch in and get your living out of the farms again."
"yes," said kit, with fine scorn, "get your living out of the farms. that's all very well for him to say, when he's got everything to do with, and twenty of the best cows in windham county, but we moved up there on hope and a shoe-string. and we've never really raised anything except chickens and children. you know, billie, even with a small income, how you can play country gentleman to your heart's content in a little place like gilead."
"stanley says your place, if it was properly worked, would make one of the finest fruit farms up there, 'cause all your land slopes to the south as far as the river. he says if he had it he'd sell off the heavy timber for cash and put the money right into hardy varieties of fruit and hogs."
kit laughed.
"can't you see helen's face over the hogs, when she has wanted to raise bulbuls and white peacocks, with a few antelopes and gazelles wandering around. but i suppose one could keep the hogs out of sight, they wouldn't have to graze on the front lawn. did he tell dad that?"
"i don't know," billie said, doubtfully. "you know, uncle jerry's kind of hard to get confidential with over his own affairs, but i wouldn't worry, kit, if i were you. things always come out all right."
"they do not," returned kit, calmly. "even cousin roxy says that you have to give providence a helping hand now and then. i'm going to think up a way to start those hogs rambling over the southern slopes of greenacre hall."
billie smiled at her mischievously.
"that's the new name, isn't it? you'll be a nice crowd of farmerettes next summer, won't you?"
"maybe it'll happen before next summer," prophesied kit, sagely. "jean and mother like to call it greenacre hall, but i like greenacre farm, if we're going to do any business there. thanks ever so much for telling me, billie. you may have changed the course of destiny, because i can tell you now i'm going home."
after dinner that night kit was out on the veranda alone for a while with only sandy at her feet. there was a light in the study bay window. miss daphne had gone over to a meeting of the women's war chest committee at the bellamys'. kit was wondering whether it would be best to write first to her mother or to jean. jean would be leaving a few days after christmas for new york anyway. how she longed to know just exactly what the family's plans were for the winter. but the worst of it was, one of the robbins' failings or virtues as a family was for each member to spare the other members all the worry and bother possible, by carefully concealing any little personal troubles. to kit this was all wrong. what on earth, she used to argue, was the use of being a family if you didn't all lean on each other and derive mutual strength and support?
finally, she decided to write to cousin roxy herself. there was always something satisfactory in making her the court of appeal, on any point of doubt; even though her decision might not be a favorable one, you always felt sure you were getting it straight without any affectionate bias.
accordingly, a confidential appeal went speeding east, and back came the reply, by return mail, as kit had known it would.
"dear child:—
"i had been thinking about you when your letter came, so i suppose our mental wireless calls must have crossed.
"there's no doubt at all but what your mother needs you badly right here, especially with jean leaving right after christmas. what billie told you was about the truth. out of the wreck of matter and crush of worlds that happened at shady cove, when your father's business and health failed, they did manage to save enough to give them a little income. then, as you know, it was mostly your mother's money that was paid down on greenacres in a lump, so that stopped her share coming in.
"the fire didn't help matters along one bit, but the judge took a first mortgage on the property, and the money went into the repairs.
"i don't see why you aren't old enough to know these things, 'cause land knows the time is coming soon enough when you will have to put your shoulder to the wheel, like jean, and help. it seems too bad that some folks i could mention can't see their duty when it's right under their nose. just as soon as the lord sees fit to call him home, cassius cato peabody will have to leave some of his money to his nephew, your father, jerry. of course, he may take it into his head to endow some sacred seat of learning on the banks of the nile, where they can study all the stars and cats and cows they want to. for my part, i think if he'd look a little way beyond his nose this minute, and see his duty to the living, he'd be a good deal happier in the long run.
"be careful how you open up the ashes of old amenotaph. i don't see how he can keep the pesky things around. makes me think of eliza ann gifford, after the deacon died. she had his ashes in a little bronze, brown box on the front room mantel, and fresh flowers on 'em every day of her life. used to give one a fearful turn every time they called on her. so far as i'm concerned, i'm perfectly willing to wait for gabriel's last trump to let my dust and ashes rest in a decent grave.
"if i were you, kit, i'd have a heart-to-heart talk with the dean himself, and i know your mother will be just as relieved as can be to hear you're homeward bound."
