Chapter 2

Mrs. Churchill continued rocking on her verandah, crocheting, and
plotting. When her brother-in-law, Richard Chase, had moved from Clancy
to Lancaster, Mrs. Churchill had been delighted. She was very fond of
Stella and, as Clancy was ten miles away, she had never been able to see
as much of her as she wished. And she had made up her mind that Stella
and Alden Churchill must be married off to each other by hook or by
crook. Stella was twenty-four and Alden was thirty and it was high time
they were married, so Mrs. Churchill thought.

“I’ve no doubt I can bring it about,” she said to herself. “But I’ll
have to be careful—it would never do to let one of them suspect a
thing. It’s going to mean a lot of trouble and bother—and some fibbing,
as well, I’m afraid. But it’s all in a good cause. Neither Alden nor
Stella will ever get married to anybody if I don’t lend a hand, that’s
certain. And they won’t take a fancy to each other without some help,
that’s equally certain. Stella isn’t the kind of girl Alden _thinks_ he
fancies—he imagines he likes the high-colored, laughing ones. But we’ll
see, Ellen,—we’ll see. _I_ know how to deal with pigheaded people of
all sorts.”

* * * * *

Mrs. Churchill laughed comfortably. Then she decided she must get to
work at once. Stella had been living in Lancaster for three weeks and
the new minister was casting sheep’s eyes at her. Mrs. Churchill had
caught him at it. She did not like _him_—he was too anaemic and
short-sighted—she was not going to help _him_ to Stella. Besides,
Alden, who hadn’t been dangling after any girl all winter, might begin
at any moment. There was a new and handsome school-teacher down on the
Base Line Road and spring was a dangerous time. If Alden began a new
flirtation he would have no eyes for Stella.

As yet, they were not even acquainted. The first thing to do was to have
them meet each other. How was this to be managed? It must be brought
about in some way absolutely innocent in appearance. Mrs. Churchill
racked her kindly brains but could think of only one way. She must give
a party and invite them both. She did not like the way. She was
intensely proud of her beautiful, beautifully-kept house, with its nice
furnishings and the old heirlooms that had come down to her through
three generations. She hated the thought of its being torn up by
preparations for a party and desecrated by a horde of young romps. The
Lancaster boys and girls were such romps. But a good cause demands
sacrifices. Mrs. Churchill sent out her invitations, alleging that she
was giving the party as a farewell send-off for her cousin Alice’s
daughter, Janet, who was going away to teach in the city. Janet, who
hadn’t expected Aunt Ellen to come out like this, was rather pleased.
But Mrs. Churchill’s other cousin, Elizabeth, two of whose daughters had
gone away without any such farewell party, was bitterly jealous and
offended, and never forgave Ellen.

Mrs. Churchill cleaned her house from attic to cellar for the event and
did all the cooking for the supper herself, help being impossible to get
in Lancaster. She was woefully tired the night before the party. Every
bone in her body ached, her head ached, her eyes ached. But instead of
going to bed she sat out on the verandah, in the chilly spring night,
and talked to Alden, who had dropped in, but would not go into the
house. Mrs. Churchill was very anxious to have a talk with him, so she
braved the damp and the chill.

* * * * *

Alden sat on the verandah steps with his bare head thrown back against
the post. He was, as his aunt had said, a very handsome fellow—tall,
broad-shouldered, with a marble-white face, that never tanned, and
dead-black hair and eyes. He had a laughing, velvety voice which no girl
could hear without a heart-beat, and a dangerous way of listening to a
woman—_any_ woman—as if she were saying something he had thirsted all
his life to hear. He had gone to Midland Academy for three years and had
thought of going to college. But his mother refused to let him go,
alleging Biblical reasons, and Alden had settled down contentedly enough
on the farm. He liked farming; it was free, out-of-doors, independent
work; he had his mother’s knack of making money and his father’s
attractive personality. It was no wonder he was considered a matrimonial
prize.

“Alden, I want to ask a favor of you,” said Mrs. Churchill. “Will you do
it for me?”

“Sure, Aunt Ellen,” he answered heartily. “Just name it. You know I’d do
anything for you.” Alden was very fond of his Aunt Ellen and would
really have done a good deal for her.

“I’m afraid it will bore you,” said Mrs. Churchill anxiously. “But it’s
just this—I want you to see that Stella Chase has a good time at the
party to-morrow night. I’m so afraid she won’t. She doesn’t know the
young people here—and they’re all so much younger than she is—at least
the boys are. Ask her to dance and see that she isn’t left alone and out
of things. She’s so shy with strangers. I do want her to have a good
time.”

“Oh, I’ll do my best,” said Alden readily.

“But you mustn’t fall in love with her, you know,” said Mrs. Churchill,
laughing carefully.

“Have a heart, Aunt Ellen. Why not?”

“I’m in earnest. It wouldn’t do at all, Alden.”

“Why not?” persisted Alden.

“Well”—confidentially—“I think the new minister has taken quite a
shine to her.”

“That conceited young ass!” exploded Alden, with unexpected warmth.

Mrs. Churchill looked mild rebuke.

“Why, Alden, he’s a very nice young man—_so_ clever and well-educated.
It’s only that kind of man who would have any chance at all with
Stella’s father, you know.”

“That so?” asked Alden, relapsing into his indifference.

“Yes: and I don’t even know if _he_ would. Richard thinks there’s nobody
alive good enough for Stella. He simply wouldn’t let her _look_ at a
farmer like you. So I don’t want you to make trouble for yourself
falling in love with a girl you could never get. I’m just giving you a
friendly warning.”

“Oh, thanks—thanks! What sort of a girl is she anyhow? Looks good?”

“If you’d gone to church as often as you should, Alden, you’d have seen
her before now. She’s not a beauty. Stella is my favorite niece but I
can see what she lacks. She’s pale and delicate—she’d never do for a
farmer’s wife. That’s why I’d like to see her and the minister make a
match of it. To be sure, she’s too fond of dress—she’s positively
extravagant. But they say Mr. Paxton has money of his own. To my
thinking, it would be an ideal match, and that’s why I don’t want you to
spoil it.”

“Why didn’t you invite Paxton to your spree and tell him to give Stella
a good time?” demanded Alden rather truculently.