Read Online Beauty for Ashes by Grace Livingston Hill - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Grace Livingston Hill
Ads: Link
Gloria puzzled over it and could not understand. There must be something unseen behind it all.
The old minister who preached was closely confined to his notes and did not get her attention at all. He was to her merely a part of the whole, like the organ and the carpet and the old bell that rang so hard after they were seated in the pew that it shook the floor and the seats and seemed threatening momentarily to descend and bring the bell tower with it. Gloria had no feeling of God being there or of anything holy about the place, except when she looked at her father’s face, and then she wished she knew what it was that reached down so deep into her father’s life and was connected with this old building. She decided that it must be the memory of his mother. Such a mother! Her grandmother! She thought she would like to be like that grandmother if she only could.
That afternoon they drove over to call on the uncle’s family, and Gloria had a sudden setback in her enthusiasm for searching out relatives. Uncle George came out to the car to meet them and seemed exceedingly reserved. He didn’t smile at all at first until Gloria was introduced, her father stating that she had wanted to come and get acquainted with her relatives.
The uncle turned a quick searching glance on her face, took in all its loveliness, questioned with his eyes its artless smile of eagerness, and finally warmed under its brightness into something like geniality.
“She looks like Mother, doesn’t she?” he said unexpectedly, and the pleased color came into the girl’s face.
“Oh, that’s nice!” said Gloria, “I’d like to be like her! I’ve been hearing such wonderful things about her, only I’m afraid I never could come up to her standards!”
“She was a great little woman!” said Uncle George with growing approval in his eyes. “You’d be doing well to be like her! But I thought all city girls these days were highflyers.” His eyes searched his new niece with surprise.
Gloria laughed. “What are highflyers?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.
Her uncle twinkled back and said with a half grin, “Well, if you don’t know, I won’t tell you. I wouldn’t want to spoil you; you’re too much like Mother! But come on, get out and come in the house. Come see how you like your aunt and cousin.”
“Cousin?” said Gloria’s father, “aren’t they all at home? I hoped we’d catch the whole family, coming on Sunday.”
“No,” said Uncle George, “the boys are both away out west for good, I’m afraid. Only Joan is home, and she goes back to Portland to her school tomorrow. She teaches there now.”
“It sounds as if she were probably more like Grandmother Sutherland than I am,” said Gloria wistfully as she got out of the car and looked about her at the well-kept house and yard.
Uncle George gave a grim grin. “No,” he said with a half sigh, “Joan’s more like her mother’s side. She never looked like Mother. The youngest boy is the only Sutherland in my flock. Barney. He’s out in Chicago now—got a good job. He’s not likely to come back unless he gets transferred east. Albert is out in Wisconsin farming. He married a western girl, and I guess he’s anchored for life. But he’s like his mother, too. Well, come on in.”
In the house, the welcome was unsmiling and almost haughty. Aunt Miranda Sutherland was a woman with a prim mouth and gimlet eyes. Gloria could see at the first glance that she disapproved of her at sight, and Joan was only a slightly more modern edition of her mother. She seemed a good deal older than Gloria. They shook hands stiffly and sat down as far from the chair they had given Gloria as the limits of the big parlor would allow. For a few minutes, they said little, leaving the conversation entirely to the two brothers, but when Gloria began to say how charmingly their house was located and to rave over the view, the cousin turned and looked her over critically, and the aunt said
The old minister who preached was closely confined to his notes and did not get her attention at all. He was to her merely a part of the whole, like the organ and the carpet and the old bell that rang so hard after they were seated in the pew that it shook the floor and the seats and seemed threatening momentarily to descend and bring the bell tower with it. Gloria had no feeling of God being there or of anything holy about the place, except when she looked at her father’s face, and then she wished she knew what it was that reached down so deep into her father’s life and was connected with this old building. She decided that it must be the memory of his mother. Such a mother! Her grandmother! She thought she would like to be like that grandmother if she only could.
That afternoon they drove over to call on the uncle’s family, and Gloria had a sudden setback in her enthusiasm for searching out relatives. Uncle George came out to the car to meet them and seemed exceedingly reserved. He didn’t smile at all at first until Gloria was introduced, her father stating that she had wanted to come and get acquainted with her relatives.
The uncle turned a quick searching glance on her face, took in all its loveliness, questioned with his eyes its artless smile of eagerness, and finally warmed under its brightness into something like geniality.
“She looks like Mother, doesn’t she?” he said unexpectedly, and the pleased color came into the girl’s face.
“Oh, that’s nice!” said Gloria, “I’d like to be like her! I’ve been hearing such wonderful things about her, only I’m afraid I never could come up to her standards!”
“She was a great little woman!” said Uncle George with growing approval in his eyes. “You’d be doing well to be like her! But I thought all city girls these days were highflyers.” His eyes searched his new niece with surprise.
Gloria laughed. “What are highflyers?” she asked with a twinkle in her eyes.
Her uncle twinkled back and said with a half grin, “Well, if you don’t know, I won’t tell you. I wouldn’t want to spoil you; you’re too much like Mother! But come on, get out and come in the house. Come see how you like your aunt and cousin.”
“Cousin?” said Gloria’s father, “aren’t they all at home? I hoped we’d catch the whole family, coming on Sunday.”
“No,” said Uncle George, “the boys are both away out west for good, I’m afraid. Only Joan is home, and she goes back to Portland to her school tomorrow. She teaches there now.”
“It sounds as if she were probably more like Grandmother Sutherland than I am,” said Gloria wistfully as she got out of the car and looked about her at the well-kept house and yard.
Uncle George gave a grim grin. “No,” he said with a half sigh, “Joan’s more like her mother’s side. She never looked like Mother. The youngest boy is the only Sutherland in my flock. Barney. He’s out in Chicago now—got a good job. He’s not likely to come back unless he gets transferred east. Albert is out in Wisconsin farming. He married a western girl, and I guess he’s anchored for life. But he’s like his mother, too. Well, come on in.”
In the house, the welcome was unsmiling and almost haughty. Aunt Miranda Sutherland was a woman with a prim mouth and gimlet eyes. Gloria could see at the first glance that she disapproved of her at sight, and Joan was only a slightly more modern edition of her mother. She seemed a good deal older than Gloria. They shook hands stiffly and sat down as far from the chair they had given Gloria as the limits of the big parlor would allow. For a few minutes, they said little, leaving the conversation entirely to the two brothers, but when Gloria began to say how charmingly their house was located and to rave over the view, the cousin turned and looked her over critically, and the aunt said
Similar Books
