



Produced by Annie McGuire








[Illustration: HARPER'S ROUND TABLE]

Copyright, 1895, by HARPER A BROTHERS. All Rights Reserved.

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PUBLISHED WEEKLY. NEW YORK, TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 24, 1895. FIVE CENTS A
COPY.

VOL. XVI.--NO. 830. TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.

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[Illustration]

AN OWN RELATION.

BY SOPHIE SWETT.


The country-week girl came up the lane with her head in the air, so
Gideon, who was watching her from the crotch in the old sweet-apple
tree, afterwards remarked to little Adoniram.

After some hesitation Gideon dropped down at her feet. Aunt Esther had
especially enjoined it upon him to be kind to the country-week girl.
Aunt Esther _would_ remember that he used to get under the bed when a
girl came to see Phemie; but that was when he was small.

"Is this Sweet Apple Hill? Be you Trueworthys?" demanded the girl,
looking critically at Gideon.

"Yes,'m," said Gideon, and then reddened and scorned himself because he
had been overpolite. But the girl was tall for fourteen--"Grazella
Hickins, aged fourteen," the letter from the Country-week Committee had
read--and she wore a wide sash and a scarlet feather in her hat and
carried a pink parasol.

Phemie, who came around the corner of the house just then, saw at a
glance that the finery was shabby, but Gideon thought that Grazella
Hickins was very stylish.

Grazella dropped her bundle upon the grass opposite the front gate and
seated herself upon it, meditatively. She did not arise from it as
Phemie opened the gate, but she surveyed her with an air of friendly
criticism; Phemie was fourteen too.

"I like your looks real well," she remarked at length, with a trifle of
condescension. Her glance sought Gideon and little Adoniram, who peeped
from behind the friendly shelter of the big black-currant bush. "I think
boys are kind of--middling," she added. It was evident that a more
severe adjective than this had been withheld only from motives of
politeness. "I've got an own relation, though, that's an awful nice
boy--awful smart too; you never know what he's going to do next."

Little Adoniram pricked up his ears; Aunt Esther had been known to say
that of him without meaning to be complimentary. City standards of
behavior seemed to be cheerfully different from those of Bayberry
Corner.

"I wouldn't have said a word if Jicksy could have come too," continued
Grazella, and her snapping black eyes slowly filled with tears. "A
cousin is a real comfort."

"Do you mean that you didn't want to come?" asked Phemie, in a
disappointed tone.

"I'm in the newspaper business; 'twas kind of risky to leave it;
there's so many pushin' in. But they don't want me to home; mother she's
married again, and _he_ don't like me. Jicksy is all I've got that's
really my own. If he could have come too--"

She swallowed a lump in her throat with determination, and raised her
eyes to the old sweet apple-tree whose fruit was yellowing in the August
sunshine.

"Are them apples?" she asked. "They ain't near so shiny and handsome as
Judy Magrath keeps on her stand; Judy shines 'em with her apron. I never
was in the country before, and I don't know as I'm going to like it. But
I'm run down, they say, and I've got a holler cough, so I had to come."

Phemie had almost begun to wish that they had not taken a country-week
girl; but now she noticed, suddenly, the meagreness of the tall form,
and the deep hollows under the snapping black eyes, and repented. It was
proverbial that people grew plump and strong on Sweet Apple Hill.

Aunt Esther came out, and the girl's manner softened under the influence
of her tactful kindness. She seemed to like Grandpa Trueworthy too; she
said she had a grandpa once, and 'twas the most she ever did have that
was like other folks.

But, after all, it was she and Gideon who seemed most congenial. Gideon
explained, with a gravely approving wag of the head, that she was
"business." Gideon flattered himself that he had abilities in that line,
and he was cultivating them diligently. He had not expected to get any
hints from a girl; but the country-week girl was assistant at a
newspaper stand, and she also "tended" for Judy Magrath when Judy, as
she explained with sad and severe head-shakings, was obliged to go to a
funeral; but it was Judy's only infirmity, she added, very charitably.

Of course girls did not generally have such business opportunities as
these, and it was Gideon's opinion that she was "considerable of a girl,
anyhow." It must be confessed that Aunt Esther was a little anxious, and
the minister expressed a doubtful hope that she would not prove "a
corrupting influence." Gideon told Grazella all his business plans,
which Phemie never cared to listen to. It was after tea one evening, and
he and Grazella were sitting on the orchard wall, while Phemie and
little Adoniram shook the old damson-plum-tree. He told her of the
contract he had made with the owners of the canning factory at Bayberry
Port, to supply them with berries for the whole season, and, what he
wouldn't tell any fellow, of the great find he had made--a blackberry
thicket over on the other side of Doughnut Hill, almost an acre, and the
berries just beginning to ripen! He was going to sell the plums off his
trees, too, and, later on, his crab-apples, he'd got a business opening,
she'd better believe.

Grazella's eyes snapped, and her thin, sallow cheeks reddened suddenly.
"You'd ought to have a partner!" she cried.

Gideon shook his head doubtfully. "It's awful risky takin' partners," he
said. "If they ain't smart, you have to do all the work; if they are,
they are apt to cheat you."

"Jicksy!" suggested Grazella, wistfully, breathlessly. "I--I've got a
job for him up here--a little one; I didn't tell, because I was afraid
your aunt wouldn't ask me to stay another week if she knew; she's scairt
of me, and I expect she'd be scairter of Jicksy." (The country-week
girl's eyes were sharp.) "Mr. Snell, across the field, said he'd give
him his board to help him take care of his cattle, and I heard they were
wanting a boy to blow the organ in church. It wouldn't suit Jicksy to
throw away his talents workin' for his board; but he's crazy for the
country, and the doctor said 'twould be the makin' of him, account of
his heart beatin' too fast, and whatever he has to eat he always thinks
it enough to go 'round amongst a dozen that's poorer than him. He could
blow the organ, for when he belonged to the show he blew up the fat
man--all the ingy-rubber fixin's that made him fat, you know, every day:
and once he worked for a balloon-man. But if you'd take him for a
partner in your business--"

Grazella's eyes were so anxious that Gideon found it hard to shake his
head with the proper decision, although he felt strongly doubtful
whether Jicksy were "the man for his money."

"He's coming up to Mr. Snell's, anyway," said Grazella, made hopeful by
Gideon's evident weakness. "And when you see how smart he is, you'll say
you wouldn't have nobody else for a partner! He ain't jest common folks,
like you and me, anyhow, Jicksy ain't; his adopted father was a
lion-tamer in a circus, awful famous and talented, and Jicksy himself
has rode elephants and camels, and travelled 'round in the
boa-constructor's cage, and his own uncle is the wild man of the South
Seas!"

Gideon's prudent mind still hesitated; he doubted whether these
wonderful opportunities especially fitted a boy for the berry business.

Nevertheless, when Jicksy arrived, he succeeded in convincing Gideon of
his desirability as a partner, and this in spite of the fact that his
appearance was not pleasing. His face was so thin and wizened that it
made him look like a little old man, and his black hair standing upright
above the snapping black eyes, that were remarkably like Grazella's,
gave him a fierce and combative aspect. Farmer Snell professed himself
satisfied; he said he was up an' comin' if he wa'n't very
likely-lookin'. And he secured the position of organ-blower at the
village church, an easy matter, because it was not coveted by the
Bayberry boys, owing to the fact that the wind in the ancient instrument
would occasionally give out with an appalling screech, and the luckless
and innocent blower was always soundly cuffed therefor by the sexton,
who held that this summary measure was necessary to preserve the public
respect for the organ--which the parish hoped to sell to a struggling
young church at the Port as soon as it could afford a new one.

And Aunt Esther did invite Grazella to stay another week. The neighbors
thought the reason that she gave a very queer one--because she was kept
awake nights by the hard little cough in the room next hers.

Gideon had been influenced by Jicksy's ready tongue. He confided to
Phemie that there ought to be one good talker in a business firm, and
also by the fact that he didn't expect an equal share of the profits,
but realized the value of Gideon's capital and experience. (Gideon had
seven dollars and fifty-nine cents, which he kept tucked away under the
ticking of his bed and counted over every night.)

Jicksy wasn't extravagant either, as Gideon had feared that he would be.
He discovered at once that they were paying Steve Pennyphair, the
stage-driver, too much for carrying the berries to the Port. Freedom
Towle, the milkman, would carry them among his cans for half as much.
Gideon had thought of asking Towle, but the fact was Bobby Towle often
went on the route instead of his father, and Bobby was known to be
greedy. Jicksy managed that difficulty by fastening some canvas (old
hay-caps) securely over the tops of the baskets. Gideon had thought of
the plan; he had lain awake half of two nights reckoning how large a
hole the price of canvas enough would make in that seven dollars and
fifty-nine cents; he hadn't thought of these old hay-caps that Jicksy
had found in the barn chamber.

Jicksy was truly honest, and before the end of the second week of the
partnership he began to wonder whether an ability to think of things
ought not to offset experience; and he had brought home from the Port
library a very large book on the relations of capital and labor. But
before he had settled these knotty problems of the partnership in his
mind something happened that caused a great excitement at Bayberry
Corner, and made many people say they were glad they had known better
than to take country-week children, for if the girl had not been sent to
Sweet Apple Hill the boy would not have come. Jicksy had gone to the
canning factory at the Port to collect a bill, and he had not returned.
The amount of the bill was twenty-four dollars and sixty-four cents;
Gideon had "done" the addition seven times over, and then had Phemie do
it; strangely enough, thought Gideon, Phemie had "a head for figures."
He had run a pitchfork into his foot, so he could not go and collect the
money himself, and although he had a prudent mind, he had not thought of
distrusting his partner. But he had heard from the factory that Jicksy
had collected the money--and he had disappeared.

As soon as the fact became known there was another development; the
minister's watch was also missing. Jicksy had blown the organ for three
services with fidelity and success; only once had that fatal scream
interrupted the devotions of the congregation, and then it was in a mild
and mitigated form. But after the evening service the minister had
thrust his watch, which he kept on the desk while he preached, into the
absurd little pocket with a tight little elastic and a blue ribbon bow
which his wife had made in the embroidered cover of his sermon-case. He
explained that he put it there because he knew that his wife liked to
have him (he was young and newly married), and therefore he was sure
that his memory was not at fault. He had carelessly left the sermon-case
on the desk, where the sexton had found it--without the watch. The boy
who blew the organ was the only one who had an opportunity to take it.
It was the day after this loss that Jicksy took "French leave"; he had
"killed two birds with one stone," Bayberry people said.

Grazella's eyes snapped continually; grandpa said she was as hoppin' as
a parched pea. She said folks had ought to be ashamed of themselves that
could b'lieve such things of Jicksy. The probabilities of the case made
no impression whatever on Grazella's mind.

The minister's wife, who had taken a fancy to the girl, offered her
consolation at the sewing circle, which met at the Trueworthys' two days
after Jicksy's departure.

"You mustn't think we hold you responsible for what he has done," she
said, gently. "He is only your cousin."

Grazella stood up, her little bony cheeks aflame. "He ain't neither only
my cousin. I just let on, because he'd got up in the world, and I didn't
want folks heavin' it at him that he had a sister that tended for Judy
Magrath. He's my own brother as ever was in the world, and when folks
are thinkin' he's a _thief_, I just want 'em to know that he's my
brother. Jicksy is smarter'n other folks, and you never know what he'll
do next; but I told Gideon that he'd find him an awful square partner,
and I stick to it--now."

There were melancholy head-shakings in the sewing circle; in fact, the
whole circle shook its head as one woman; but it was whispered that the
girl was probably honest; that the little scamp had deceived her, as he
deceived others.

But at that very time an exciting rumor was circulating about Bayberry
Corner. Iky Snell shouted it at the open window of the room where the
sewing circle sat at supper.

A boy had been seen on the turnpike-road coming towards Sweet Apple
Hill, leading a giraffe.

"Looks as if he had a circus procession all to himself," declared Iky,
enviously; and if several persons who had seen him were not very greatly
mistaken, the boy was Jicksy.

"If some boys should come home leadin' a giraffe, why, I might be kind
of surprised," remarked grandpa; "but it does seem jest like Jicksy."

Grazella, who had been trying to swallow blackberry tart mingled with
tears, tried very hard to be calm, though her thin little face paled and
flushed. "You never know what Jicksy will do next," she said, proudly.

Sweet Apple Hill turned out; so did half Bayberry Corner; every one ran
towards the turnpike-road; even the sewing-circle supper-table was
deserted in undignified haste.

It _was_ Jicksy, footsore and begrimed, and accommodating his gait to
the tread of a creature whose body seemed to be set upon stilts, and
whose neck might, as Phemie declared, be tied into a double bow-knot.
The animal was lame, and its head wagged in a curious fashion.

Gideon, seeing his partner afar off, felt a thrill of delight in his
honesty, which seemed probable since he was returning, but it was
followed by a painful doubt concerning his "business bump." Jicksy had
wished to buy Aaron Green's old horse, which Aaron would sell for twenty
dollars. It was a good horse for the money, and it could easily be kept
on their little farm; and the old blue cart in the barn could be
repaired at very small expense, and perhaps what Jicksy said was
true--that you had to have some style to a business to advertise it.
Nevertheless, Gideon had not consented to buy Aaron Green's horse; he
had felt that the twenty-four dollars and sixty-four cents must go under
his bed-ticking with the seven dollars and fifty-nine cents, where he
could count it every night. He felt a wild fear that Jicksy had bought
the giraffe to draw the blue cart, following his theory that there was
nothing like attracting attention to your business.

"I didn't run away!" Jicksy was saying angrily, as Gideon pressed
through the crowd. "Gid understood that it was business that kept me,
didn't you Gid?" But Gideon looked away; he couldn't say that he had
understood, and he was certain that he didn't understand now about that
giraffe.

"I heard that McColloh's show was stranded down to Westport; that's the
show I b'longed to once; couldn't pay their bills, and the sheriff was
after 'em; I thought maybe I could get a horse, cheap." There was
silence as the crowd listened to Jicksy's explanation; only now and then
a shrill question interrupted him. "Foot it? Of course I did." (It was
twenty miles to Westport