Dr. Lavendar was not sleeping very well that spring. He fell into the
habit of waking at about three, just when the birds begin the
scattered twittering that swells into full clamor and then dies
suddenly into silence. In that gray stillness, broken by bird-calls,
he used to occupy himself by thinking of his people.
"The name of the large upper chamber, facing the east, was Peace." And
so this old pilgrim found it, lying in his four-poster, listening to
the cries and calls in the jargonelle pear-tree in the corner of the
garden, and watching the ghostly oblong of the window that faced the
east, glimmer and brighten into the effulgence of day. It was then,
with his old hands folded on his breast, that he thought about the
Wrights--all three of them....
It was a relief to know that Mrs. Richie would influence Sam to put
his mind on his work; if the boy would do that, his father would be
less irritated with him. And William's assurance that she would not
allow any love-making ought to end his grandfather's worry. But while
that worry lasted it must be utilized....
The room was slipping out of the shadows. Dr. Lavendar could see the
outline of the window distinctly. The bureau loomed up in the grayness
like a rock; opposite the bed, under a high wooden mantel was the
cavernous blackness of the chimney, Dr. Lavendar reflected that it
must be nearly four....
The question was, when should he use this weapon of Benjamin Wright's
worry, on the two hard hearts? He had made several attempts to use it,
only to feel the blade turn in his hand: He had asked Mr. Wright when
he was going to talk things over with Samuel, and the old man had
instantly declared that he had changed his mind. He had mentioned to
his senior warden that Benjamin was troubled about his grandson's
sheep's-eyes, and Samuel's studied deafness had put an end to
conversation. So Dr. Lavendar had made up his mind that a matter of
this kind cannot be forced. A thirty-two-year-old wound is not to be
healed in a day. He took any chance that offered to drop a suggestive
word; but he did not try to hurry his Heavenly Father. For it was Dr.
Lavendar's belief that God was more anxious about that reconciliation
than he was....
A line of light threaded its way under the window-curtain, and fell in
a spot of fluid gold upon the mirror. He watched it move silently
across the powdery surface: suddenly another dimpling pool appeared on
the soot of the chimney-back, and his eye followed the tremulous beam
to its entrance over the top of the shutter. The birds were shouting
now in full voice. How fond Benjamin was of his poor caged creatures.
Well, he had so little else to be fond of; "and I have so much,"
thought Dr. Lavendar, shamefacedly;--"all my people. And David, the
rascal!" Then he chuckled; Dr. Lavendar was under the delusion that he
was unprejudiced in regard to David: "a very unusual child!" he
assured himself, gravely. No wonder Mrs. Richie liked to have him.--
And he would be the making of her! he would shake her out of her
selfishness. "Poor girl, I guess, by the way she talks, she has never
known anything but self. David will wake her up. But I've got to look
out that she doesn't spoil him." It was this belief of what David
might do for Mrs. Richie that had reconciled him to parting with the
little boy.