“HELLO SNACKENBERG! HERE AM I! GIVE ME A RIDE?” Dorothy’s Travels.“HELLO SNACKENBERG! HERE AM I! GIVE ME A RIDE?”Dorothy’s Travels.
Since Monty had said that he was hungry, of course, she would stay for that one meal and let himget comfortable. Afterward—she would follow her own judgment.
But she, also, was gently bred and born, and despite a lack of plain common sense was an agreeable person in the main. She had responded to Mrs. Hungerford’s greeting with a correct society manner; and now, as she followed toward the dining-room, she bestowed upon that lady’s back a keenly critical survey. She saw that Aunt Lucretia was well but simply gowned in white. She was immaculately fresh, and fragrant from her bath with a faint odor of violets about her that pleased rather than offended nostrils which habitually objected to “perfumery” as something common and vulgar.
Her gown might have been expensive but did not look so and was eminently more fit for an evening dinner in a tourists’ hotel than the elaborate costume of Mrs. Stark.
Though she had been but twenty-four hours in the place, Auntie Lu had already adapted herself to it completely, and smiled away the services of a rather frightened head-waitress new to her business, as she threaded her way toward that distant corner of the crowded room where her own table overlooked the water.
A little hush fell over the adjoining tables as Mrs. Stark’s elegance bore down upon them in her majestic way. She was portly and heavy-motioned, as poor Monty was apt to be when he should arrive at her age; and chairs had to bedrawn in closer, feet tucked under them, and heads bent forward as she passed by.
As for the youth in her train misery and mortification shone on his chubby countenance. For a boy he had been absurdly fond of dress, but he had also a keen sense of what was fit and he knew his present costume was not that. However, all this trivial unpleasantness passed, as the entering pair were greeted by the rest of the party. The Judge still wore a business suit but his manner, as he rose to be presented to Mrs. Stark was so polished and correct that her spirits revived, thinking:
“Well, the people are all right, if the place isn’t.”
She acknowledged Miss Isobel’s greeting with a slight haughtiness, such as she felt was due a social inferior. Upon Molly she bestowed an admiring smile and glance; and upon Dorothy a rather perfunctory one. The girl might also be “poorhouse born” for aught anybody knew, and from contact with such her “precious lamb” was to be well protected. She intended to see to it that further intercourse between her son and that “tramp,” Jim Barlow, should be prevented also; and while she marvelled that “the Breckenridges” should make much of the girl, as apparently they did, it wasn’t necessary that she should do the same. Monty had told her all about each member of the party so that Dorothy’s story was familiar to her. The lad had concluded his recital with the words:
“She’s the bravest, sincerest girl in the world.She’s braver than Molly Breckenridge, and I like her immensely. All the boys at Brentnor think she’s fine, and we all hope some grand romance will come out of the facts of her parentage. She doesn’t come of any illiterate, common stock, Mamma. You may be sure of that. So I hope you’ll be nice and not—not tooStark-ishtoward her, please!”
So this was the girl who had saved life. Of that grim teacher opposite and, later, of a farmer’s son out of a tree where he was hanging. Very creditable, of course, though it couldn’t affect herself, Mrs. Ebenezer Vavasour-Stark, and she fixed her attention elsewhere.
It was due to the Judge that she altered her opinion of her present quarters so far as to decide upon remaining in them; and to make the best of the whole trip, “which you know is but a prolonged picnic. As for air and health and strength, you could find nothing better the world over, my dear Madam,” he had said.
After that first dinner also she had a talk with her son; which resulted in his displaying a common sense that did him credit.
“Look here, Mamma. Let’s just pack all these over-fine togs in the trunks and leave them here to be sent to us when wanted. All we shall need, I fancy, is a suit-case a-piece with the plainest things we own. Even that ‘fancy’ hunter’s suit I bought is ridiculous. The Judge uses the oldest sort of things—‘regular rags,’ Molly says; and I—I maybea fool but I don’t like tolooklike one!Do it, Mamma, to please me. And let’s put our ‘society’ manners into the trunks with the clothes. Let’s live, for these few weeks, as if we were real poor—as poor as Dolly or Miss Greatorex. I don’t believe even that lady has any money to speak of and as for Dorothy, she hasn’t a cent. Not a cent.”
“How do you know that, Montmorency? Are you on such intimate terms with that foundling that she confides the state of her finances to you? If so, she is probably hinting for presents.”
“Umm. Might be. Didn’t look like it though when I proposed just now to buy her one of those Indian baskets on sale in the lobby. She wouldn’t take one, though Molly took all I wanted to give—and more.Thatgirl hasn’t any scruples about having a good time and letting anybody pay that wants to.”
“That, son, is a proof of good birth and breeding, she has always been accustomed to having her wants supplied and takes it as a matter of course. But, Monty darling, you must be good to Mamma. She doesn’t feel as if she had come to a ‘Paradise of a place,’ as you told me I would find it. Yet if it pleases you to see your mother dressed like a servant why, of course, for your sake I’ll consent. But I warn you, no skylarking with underbred people or I shall take you straight home.”
This little conversation shows that Mrs. Hungerford was right when she informed her brother on that same evening:
“We made a blunder when we allowed the Starks to join our personal party. They fit into it about as well as a round peg in a square hole. The woman—Well, she may be high-born and rich but I don’t want our Molly to copy her notions. She’s not nice, either, to poor Miss Isobel nor Dorothy. The result is that Miss Greatorex has grown more difficult and ‘stiff’ than she was in the beginning. Such a pity when she’s just begun to get softer and more human!”
In his heart the Judge was not over-pleased by this untoward opening of the new association, but he wouldn’t admit it to her. He merely said:
“I’m sorry if you’re going to let the prejudices of silly women spoil your own vacation. Don’t do it. Just remember what you often say, that human nature is the same everywhere. We have the pride of wealth to contend with on one hand and the pride of poverty on the other; but beneath each sort of pride lies an honest heart. I believe it, and that we shall yet see these two opposing elements merged in a warm friendship. Watch for it. It takes all sorts of people to make a world and another sort will be added, to-morrow, when Melvin joins us. Throw in the college Prex, the millionaire financier, and surgeon Mantler, and we shall have a miniature world of our own in our traveling mates.”
“Schuyler, you haven’t told me yet what part that lad Melvin is to play in this ‘world.’ Why did you ask him?”
“To test him, Lu, nothing else. His mother isanxious he should make a man of himself and isn’t sure how best he can. She permitted him to take a bugler’s place on the ‘Prince’ because he wanted to try a sea-faring life. Two seasons of it, even under the comfortable conditions of a passenger steamship, has sickened him of that. He fancied he could be a musician and has talent sufficient only to ‘bugle.’ Now he wants to see the world, though he didn’t dream I was to offer him a chance. She thinks he would make a good lawyer, and so his uncle Ephraim thinks. Her pastor thinks he ought to be a minister; and the only point upon which all his friends and himself agree is that he should not spend all his days in ‘Ya’mouth.’ I’m going to take him to camp with me, to act as handy-man for all of us. That will give me a chance to see what stuff he’s made of; and if he’s worth it—if he’s worth it—I’ll take him down to Richmond and set him at the law.
“Molly, however, must let him alone. That girl can upset more plans than the wisest man can lay; and if she gets to teasing him on account of his strange bashfulness she’ll scare him away from us and disappoint his mother’s tender heart.Shethinks that ‘son’ is a paragon of all the virtues. So does this other mother who’s just joined us, think of her beloved Montmorency Vavasour-Stark. What a name! Between them and their ‘laddies’ I reckon I shall have less peace than from the wildest of tricksy Molly’s capers.”
“Schuyler, you mustn’t be hard on her. She’sexactly like what you were at her age! And she is the dearest child, you know it!”
“I must have been what you call ‘a sweet thing,’ then! But, of course, she’s my own ‘crow,’ therefore she’s pure white,” laughed the adoring father, with more earnest than jest.
“Also, brother, in all your plans for others don’t forget little Dorothy’s. I know you’re busy but I must find out who her own people are. Imust. It’s a sin and a heartless one to keep her young heart longer in suspense. I know she often ponders the thing, in spite of her cheerfulness, even gayety.”
To which he returned:
“Don’t attribute more pondering to her than belongs. Of the two I fancy you do the most of that. Nor think I’ve forgotten her interests. Her history is already being unravelled, thread by thread, and stitch by stitch. When the thread’s wound clear up I trust it may make a goodly ball.”
“Oh! my dear brother, what do you mean?” cried Aunt Lucretia, eagerly.
“I mean that I set old Ephraim Cook to the task. He’s already down at Annapolis, fairly burrowing in archives and genealogies, and the skeleton closets of all our old Maryland families. It’s the most congenial task he ever undertook in all his generally-useful life; for back here in ‘Markland’ he’s long ago prepared a history of the peninsula that deserve publishing. He can trace every Bluenose household to its very beginning, and claims hisown came to this side the sea in the Mayflower. That’s one reason he wants Melvin, the last of his race, to make a name for it. Trust me he’ll forage for our Dorothy better than I could myself; but he isn’t to disturb us with letters of theories or ‘maybes.’ When he gets his facts—hurrah for thedénoûment! Now, dear, to your rest. The burdens of a peacemaker rest on your shoulders but—you’ll make and keep the peace. Good night.”
After all, when the sun rose on the following morning and this oddly assorted traveling party met to discuss the day’s plans, each was so rested and refreshed that an abnormal amiability pervaded the whole group.
“What would you like to do best?” “Oh, no! You say!” “I’m sure whatever the rest propose will be agreeable to me in the way of sight-seeing.” “Or even staying quietly at the hotel and just enjoying the outlook on the sea.”
Such were the remarks exchanged and with such suavity of manner that Molly clapped her hands and cried:
“I declare, you’re all too sweet to be wholesome! And it happens that I know whatIwant to do, even if you don’t. Let’s go away down to the end, I mean the beginning, of the town where they are curing fish. I saw them from the car window, and even then they were so interesting. I mean the fish were. Or—or the things where they fixed them. And, beg pardon, Mrs. Stark, even if you lookedat that water all day long you couldn’t make it into a ‘sea.’ It’s only a Basin, the fag end of Annapolis Basin. Yonder, where there are so many sails and steamers, is the Bay of Fundy, and to get to the really truly sea you must go beyond that. The reason I’m so wise, if you want to know, is that I’ve been here twenty-four hours longer than you and I improved my time by asking questions.”
With that the little maid swept her new acquaintance a courtesy and smiled so sweetly that any presumption on her girlish part was readily forgiven. Besides she was a Breckenridge; and though Mrs. Stark had now resolved to be as “democratic” as her new friends were it was easier resolved than practiced. If it had been Dorothy who ventured to plan for her elders her suggestions would have been coolly ignored.
The Judge drew near in time to hear the end of the talk and added:
“That is a sight we won’t meet elsewhere in the same proportion as here. Also, the walk will do us good, and we shall pass the postoffice on our way. I like going for my own mail to the ‘general delivery’ better than having it sent to the hotel. I like the mingling with the eager crowd that waits before the little window to ask: ‘Anything for me?’ I like to watch the faces of the people when they open their letters. One can guess the ‘home’ ones by the expression of joy and the merely friendly by the indifference. I like—”
“Dear Schuyler, spare us! If there’s anythingupon earth youdon’tlike that’s even half-way interesting I can’t guess it.” Then turning to Mrs. Stark, Mrs. Hungerford added: “Brother is like a boy when he gets leave of absence, this way. Suppose you walk along with him and find out if there is anything hedoesn’tlike along the way.”
Her brother gave her an arch glance. Evidently she had begun her peaceful adjustment of “assorted” temperaments by assigning himself to Mrs. Stark’s escort, though she knew all the time that he wanted to be with the youngsters. She placed herself along side Miss Isobel, smiling at that lady’s inquiry if she were going into a public street without a hat.
“Surely. ‘When in Rome do as the Romans do,’ you remember. And see. Though most of the people have on some sort of wrap very few women are bonneted and even the men carry their hats in hand. Brother has snatched his off already.”
The Judge was in front, attentively courteous and listening to Mrs. Stark’s remarks, yet seemed to have eyes in the back of his head; for presently he asked:
“What are you youngsters lagging behind for? Dolly, take Melvin under your shelter and make him tell you everything you want to know about Digby. He’s been here before many times, I’ve learned. And Molly, you and Monty walk ahead if you please. I like to keep my eye on my own and I fancy Mrs. Stark does too.”
Separated from these two, who had been in the rear of the whole party, Melvin did exert himself to overcome his abnormal shyness and to talk; and when after proceeding a little way and his finding Dorothy eagerly observant of even the most trivial things that were new to her, he had an abrupt burst of courage—or was it a harmless spite against his tormentor of the day before, Molly? Whatever it was that emboldened him, he suddenly laid his hand on her arm and said:
“Wait just a minute! There comes a man I know. He’s a transplanted Yarmouthian who’s moved to Digby to ‘haul’ for his livelihood. He’ll be glad to see me and hear the news from home; and won’t want to waste time in doing it. I’ll ask him to give us a ride. I don’t believe either of you girls from the States ever did ride in such an equipage.”
She had paused as he wished and was listening in surprise. As much because he talked so well and so easily as at the really joyous tone in which he hailed his uncouth acquaintance from “Home.”
“Hello, Snackenberg! Here am I! Give me a ride?”
“Well, well, well! Son of all the Cooks! What you doin’ here? Allowed you was sailin’ the ‘blue and boundless’ just about now!” cried the teamster and leaning forward shook the lad so heartily by his own hard hand that Melvin squealed and protested:
“Well, we can’t stand here, you know. I’ll justhelp this young lady in—she’s from the States—and you can jog on.”
The team was of the sort that is always willing to stop, and the “equipage” was easily entered by merely stepping into its open rear. It swung low to the ground, after the fashion of Nova Scotian carts, and for seats it had a bundle of clean straw.
In another moment the animals had been goaded to fresh effort, their owner had turned about on the chain where he balanced himself for a seat and also turned a corner into a side street that climbed the hill behind the town. Then he ordered:
“Fire ahead! Tell everything you know; and I say, Sissy, did you ever see a purtier pair of creeturs than them be? I’m prouder of ’em than I could be of the finest team o’ thoroughbreds ever stepped. Gee, there! Haw, I tell ye!”
Beyond, at the postoffice, the truants had been suddenly missed; and with varying degrees of anxiety their elders were asking one another:
“What do you suppose has become of Dorothy and that queer boy?”
But Molly was more vexed than anxious and she looked upon Monty with rising disfavor. She guessed that they were having some fun from which she was shut out and which Montmorency Vavasour-Stark would never have had the originality to suggest.
“Oh! I wish I knew! Maybe they’re eating each other up! Yesterday she asked if he was a ‘wildcat’ and I told her ‘yes.’ Maybe, maybe—Oh! Why did you make us walk in front, namby-pamby so, Papa dear? If we’d been with them we’d know what they are doing and what has happened. Oh! dear! If I hadn’t been in front I’d have been behind!” she complained. Nor was she greatly pleased by the laugh which her Irish-cism raised.
Even Melvin had not expected that Dorothy and he would long be away from the rest of the party, though he did not realize that he was in any wise responsible to them, since his duties as camp-helper had not yet begun. But he enjoyed his freedom from the society of so many strangers and found Dorothy a pleasant companion. She might have been just another boy, for any “nonsense” there was about her; and she was so delighted with everything he pointed out that he, also, began to find new beauties in the familiar scenery, and to grow eager to show her all he could.
For the teamster prolonged his journey to the very crest of the hill behind the town, and made it slowly. He had so many questions to ask concerning his old neighbors that he delayed all he reasonably could and rather resented Melvin’s attempts to entertain Dorothy.
“That’s Point Prim lighthouse, yonder. See? Yes, Joel, Reuben Smith did paint his house bright blue, just as he vowed he would to spite his neighbor. That’s Digby Gap, where the two hills come so near together in the water. The boats that sailfrom here have to pass through it and travelers say—No. I didn’t hear what price that Company did get for its last ‘catch.’ Lobsters haven’t been running so free this year, I hear; and there’s another company started canning them. If Judge Breckenridge stays long enough I hope he’ll take you sailing up Bear River. It’s a nice drive there, too, but the sail is better. Up yonder is the Joggin—Why, Joel, I’m sure I don’t know. I hadn’t heard.”
Such was a sample of the talk which went on and which provoked from the lad, at last, the comment:
“Learning under difficulties!” which he said with such an amused glance toward Dorothy that she laughed and felt that Molly had been right in her belief that “that boy has some fun in him.” Thought of Molly made her also exclaim:
“Oh! I do wish she were here! She would have liked this so much! I don’t believe she ever rode in an ox-cart either, any more than I did before. How funny it is! And how much longer shall we be? I’m afraid I ought to have asked Mrs. Hungerford or Miss Greatorex before I came. But I didn’t think. I never do think till—afterward.”
“Glad of it. Glad you didn’t, else likely you’d have lost the ride. Joel doesn’t call this an ox-cart, though. Not by any means. This, if you please, is an ‘ox-omobile,’ and very proud of it he is. Guess you needn’t worry. Nobody can get lost in little Digby; and—Where now, Joel? How much longer will you be?”
“Oh! I reckon not long. Just a little minute or few. Depends on folks havin’ their trunks ready to haul. Some towerists have been stopping up here to one these houses and engaged me to take their luggage down to the pier. They’re goin’ over to St. John, I reckon, only one of ’em. She’s goin’ to the dee-po. When we go down hill you two may set on the trunks—if you can!” and Mr. Snackenberg laughed at his own thoughts.
The trunks did happen to be ready. Indeed the “towerists” were even impatient to be gone and were just starting to walk to the pier when the carter arrived. They looked rather enviously at Dorothy and Melvin, so comfortably seated in the cart, but its owner did not extend an invitation to them to ride. Indeed, as he explained to his companions:
“If I was a mind I could have all Digby village a ridin’ in my ‘ox-omobile.’ They seem to think it’s powerful cunnin’, as if they’d never seen a team of oxen before. Where’ve they lived at, I’d like to know, that they don’t know an ox when they see it. There. Them trunks is in. Now, Sissy, you just set right down and—You’ll find out the rest.”
The trunks did fill the cart pretty well but there was plenty of room to put one’s feet in the spaces between; and Dorothy fixed herself comfortably, wondering why Melvin disdained to ride but strode along beside the teamster who also walked. Throned in solitary state all went well for awhile, until a corner was turned and the steep descent intothe town began. Then the trunks slid upon the slippery hay, resting their weight against the chain at the rear, which alone prevented their falling out; and after a few efforts to maintain her seat Dorothy also sprang to the ground and joined the others.
“Ha, ha, ha! Ridin’ up-hill and ridin’ down is two quite different things, ain’t it, Sissy? Ever been to the pier to see the boat start across the Bay to St. John’s, New Brunswick? No? First time you been to the Province? All right. You stick close to me and I’ll p’int out all the ‘lions’ there is to see. Melvin, here, can talk as glib as the next one when he gets waked up, but I know more about Digby ’an he does. One the sights towerists rave the most over is the fish-grounds. They’re right adj’ining the pier and you can kill them two ‘lions’ at once. Ha, ha!”
“But, sir, I’m afraid I ought to go back. I mean—to where my friends are. Is the pier on the road home?” asked Dorothy.
“All roads lead home—for somebody. The pier and the fish-curin’ grounds amongst ’em. Don’t you vex yourself, Sissy. If you was to go from one end to the other of this little town you couldn’t never get fur from where you live.”
The truth was that the old teamster wanted to keep the young folks with him as long as he could. There were still numberless questions he hadn’t put to Melvin and he had taken a fancy to Dorothy. If she was simply a “towerist” she was, of course, an idler and it was of no consequence her wastingher time. He hadn’t learned yet why Melvin was here and if he didn’t find that out he felt he “couldn’t bear it.” So now he asked:
“Well, son of all the Cooks, what’s fetched you here this time o’ day? Lost your job?”
“Not exactly. I’ve given it up. I’m tired of sailing back and forth over the same old route and a friend of mine wanted to take my place. I’m going to help a gentleman I know in his camping out. Cook, maybe, or whatever he wants. Now—that’s all. You needn’t ask me how much I earn, or what’s next, or anything. You just go ahead and tell this Miss Dorothy anything you fancy; since you know so much more of things than I do.”
“H’ity-t’ity! Miffed, be ye? Never mind. You’d ought to rest your tongue, ’cause I ’low it’s never wagged so fast afore in your whole life. But I’m ekal to it. I’m ekal. I’ve growed to be a regular ‘Digby chicken,’ I’ve tarried here so long already. Ever eat ‘Digby chicken,’ Sissy?”
Joel was affronted in his own turn now and determined to ignore that “Miss” which Melvin had pronounced so markedly. Joel wasn’t used to “Miss”-ing any girl of Dorothy’s size and he wasn’t going to begin at his time of life. Not he!
Meanwhile, Melvin had relapsed into utter silence. He declined to answer any of the teamster’s further questions, and if his knowledge of the locality had been quite as accurate as he had boasted he would have suggested to the girl that they take a short-cut back to the hotel. Yet, he had heard thatteasing Molly say they were bound for the fish-grounds. Beyond these lay, also, that notable Battery Point, with its rusty old guns; its ancient, storm-bent trees; and the Indian encampment still further along. He had seen tourists so many times that he fancied they were all alike, full of curiosity, and with ample leisure to gratify it. So, in all probability, the Judge and his friends were still at that end of town and he had better stick to Joel till he conducted the girl and him to their presence. Then he would himself vanish until such time as the Judge might require his service.
They came to the pier and drove along its great length, the teamster pointing out all sorts of interesting things, so that Dolly forgot all else in her eager listening.
“Forty feet high the tide rises sometimes, right on this very p’int. That’s why it’s built so lofty. Look over the edge. See that sloping wharf clean down into the water? Well, sir, that’s where folks land sometimes; and other times away up top here. My heart! The pretty creetur!”
Joel abruptly checked his team and stooped above something lying on the wide planking of the pier. Then he lifted the object and handed it to Dorothy, explaining:
“That’s a poor little coddy-moddy! A little baby gull. Pity! Something’s hurt it, but it’s alive yet. Makes me feel bad to see any young creetur suffer; most of all to see a bird. Put it in the crook of your elbow, Sissy, and fetch it along.I’ll take it home with me and see if I can’t save its life.”
After a moment he added, seeing her look wistful, as he thought:
“I’d give it to you, Sissy, but towering folks haven’t no time nor chance to tend sick birds. It’ll be better off in my house than jogglin’ over railroads and steamboats.”
There was sense in this as Dorothy rather reluctantly admitted, for she would have liked to keep the “coddy-moddy” and made a pet of it. With Joel, however, it would simply be cured and set free, or it would die in peace. Also she was touched by the real tenderness with which the rough-handed teamster made a nest in the straw of his cart and placed the bird upon it.
He had first deposited the trunks in the baggage-room and there was nothing to keep him longer; so with another whimsical glance at Melvin, who had sauntered behind them, he remarked:
“Right this way to the fishin’-grounds! ‘Stinks a little but nothin’ to hurt!’”
Then in the fatherly fashion which almost every man she met adopted toward her, he held out his hand to Dorothy C. and led her back over the pier and around to the broad field where numbers of men were salting and piling the haddock and cod they had caught. The fish were piled in circles or wheel-like heaps, after they were sufficiently dried; and the fresher ones were spread upon long frames to “cure.” It was a great industry in that localityand one so interesting to Dorothy that she wanted to linger and watch the toilers despite the decidedly “fishy” odor which filled the air.
But Joel said that he must leave them then and, after pointing with his whip to a grassy plain beyond the fishing-grounds, advised:
“Best step right over to the Battery, Sissy, now you’re so nigh it. I’ve learned in my life that things don’t happen twice alike. Maybe you won’t be just here again in such terr’ble agreeable company—” and he playfully touched Melvin on the shoulder—“and best improve it. And, Sissy, strikes me you’re real likely. Sort of a common sense sort of little creetur without so many airs as some the girl-towerists put on. If so be ’t you stop a spell in Digby just tip me the wink and I’ll haul you with any load I happen to have on my ‘Mobile.’ Or, if so be we never meet again on earth, be sure, little Sissy, ’t you meet me in Heaven. Good-by, till then.”
Off he went and left Dorothy standing looking after him with something very like tears in her brown eyes. Such a quaint figure he looked in his long blue smock, his worn hat pushed to the back of his head, his sandy beard sweeping his breast; jogging beside his beloved team, doing his duty simply as he found it “in that state of life to which it had pleased God to call him.”
“He’s a very religious man, Joel Snackenberg, and never loses a chance to ‘pass the word.’ My mother sets great store by him and I must write herabout our meeting him. Shall we go to the Battery or back to the hotel? Your friends don’t—aren’t anywhere in sight, so I suppose they’ve gone there,” remarked Melvin.
“Then we ought. Indeed, I feel afraid we’ve stayed too long; and yet I can’t be sorry, since we’ve met that dear old man.”
Melvin had promptly recovered his “glibness” upon the departure of the teamster; and though he looked at her in some surprise he answered:
“I don’t believe many girls would call him ‘dear.’ I shouldn’t have thought of doing so myself. That Molly wouldn’t, I know; but you have a way of making folks—folks forget themselves and show their best sides to you, so I guess. Anyhow, I never talked so much to any girl before, and you’re the only one in all that crowd I don’t feel shy of. Even that boy—Hmm.”
“Thank you. That’s the nicest thing I ever had said to me. And don’t you think that life—just the mere living—is perfectly grand? All the time meeting new people and finding out new, beautiful things about them? Like Mr. Snackenberg asking me to meet him in Heaven. It was certainly an odd thing to say, it startled me, but it was beautiful—beautiful. Now—do you know the road home?”
“Sure. We’ll be there in five minutes.”
“All right. Lead the way. And say, Melvin Cook, do one more nice thing, please. Forgive my darling Molly for the prank she played on you andbe the same friendly way to her you’ve been to me.”
“Well, I’ll try. But I don’t promise I’ll succeed.”
They hurried back over the main street of the town to their inn, past the postoffice where a throng of tourists were still waiting for possible mail, past the little shops with their tempting display of “notions” representative of the locality, until they reached one window in which some silverware was exposed for sale.
Something within caught Melvin’s eye, and he laughed:
“Look there, miss.”
“Dorothy, please!”
“Look there, Dorothy! There’s your ‘Digby chicken’ with a vengeance!” and he pointed toward some trinkets the dealer was exhibiting to customers within. Among the articles a lot of tiny silver fish, labeled as he had said, and made in some way with a spring so that they wriggled from the tip of a pin, or guard, in typical fish-fashion.
“Oh! aren’t they cute! How I would like to buy one! Do you suppose they cost very much?” cried Dorothy, delighted.
“I’ll ask,” he said and did; and returning from the interior announced: “Fifty cents for the smallest one, seventy-five for the others.”
She sighed and her face fell. “Might as well be seventy-five dollars, so far as I’m concerned. I have exactly five cents, and I shouldn’t have hadthat only I found it left over in my jacket pocket. You see, once I had five dollars. How much is that in Nova Scotia money?”
“Just the same. Five dollars.”
“Well, come on. I mustn’t stand and ‘covet,’ but I would so love to have that for Alfaretta. I promised to bring her something home and that would please her to death!”
“Good thing she isn’t to have it then!” he returned.
Dorothy laughed. “Course. I don’t mean that. I’m always getting reproved for ‘extravagant language.’ Miss Rhinelander says it’s almost as bad as extravagant—umm, doing. You know what I mean. Listen. I’ll tell you how I lost it, but we must hurry. I smell dinners in the houses we pass and I reckon it’s mighty late.”
She narrated the story of her loss and her New York experiences in a few graphic sentences; and had only concluded when they reached the hotel piazza, bordering the street, and saw their whole party sitting there waiting the dinner summons. The faces of the elders all looked a little stern, even that of the genial Judge himself; and Molly promptly voiced the thoughts of the company when she demanded:
“Well, I should like to know where you have been! We were afraid something had happened, and I think it’s mean, real mean I say, to scare people who are on a holiday. Dorothy, child, where have you been?”
“Ox-omobiling,” answered poor Dorothy, meekly, and feeling as if she were confessing a positive crime.
“W-h-a-t?” gasped Molly amazed.
“Ox-omobiling. I didn’t mean—”
“What in the world is that? Did you do it with that boy? Is he—where—what—do tell and not plague me so.”
“No. I did it with the man who—” Here culprit Dolly looked up and caught the stern, questioning gaze of Mrs. Ebenezer Stark, and her wits fled. “With Joel, and I’m to meet him in—in Heaven—right away.”
Utter silence greeted this strange answer, part of which had been made to Miss Greatorex’s austere gesture. This signified on the lady’s part that her ward was late and hindering the meal and was so understood by the frightened girl. She looked around for Melvin to corroborate her statement but he had vanished. Having escorted her into sight of her friends he considered his duty done and disappeared.
“Dorothy! You’ve been having adventures, I see, and have got things a trifle ‘mixed.’ Best say no more now, till we all get over our dinner-crossness and then tell us the whole story. Since you are safely back no real harm is done; and, friends, shall we go in to table? The second bell has rung,” asked Mrs. Hungerford, smiling yet secretly annoyed by the delay Dorothy’s absence had caused.
The Judge had received more letters from his“Boys” and even more urgent ones. That meant cutting short their stay in every town they visited; even omitting some desirable places from their list. It had been decided that they must leave Digby on Monday, the next day but one, and they wished to utilize every moment of the time between in visiting its most attractive points.
“Now, we’ll take that ride. I was going to get Melvin to drive one small rig with the young folks and I would drive another surrey with us elders. He’s taken himself off, though, so I’ll just order a buckboard that will hold us all,” said the Judge, when they had rather hastily finished their meal.
So they did, and presently the four-seated wagon with its four horses and capable driver tooled up to the entrance and the party entered it. All but Monty Stark. Much to his mother’s annoyance and regret, that young gentleman firmly objected to the trip.
“I don’t want to go. I hate driving. I don’t care a rap for all the lighthouses or Bear Rivers in the world. I’d rather stay right here and watch the fishermen. I never had such a chance to see them so close at hand and—I—do—not want—to go.”
“Montmorency, darling! Don’t turn nasty and spoil all poor Mamma’s pleasure, don’t. I can’t see what’s the matter with you, dear? You have been positively disagreeable ever since we took that walk. Did you get too tired, lovey? Is Mamma’s baby boy ill?”
“Oh! Mamma, please! Ishallbe ill if you don’t quit molly-coddling me, as if I were an infant in arms.”
They were speaking apart and in low tones, so that she caught but the word “Molly” and instantly inquired:
“Is it that girl, dearest? Has she been behaving badly to you? You mustn’t mind her sharp tongue, she’s only a—a Breckenridge!”
“Yes, she has been behaving outrageously. She’s made me feel as cheap as two cents. Just because I couldn’t think of any remarkably funny thing to do in this horrid old town—Oh! go on, and let me be. I’m not mad with you, Mamma, but I shan’t go on that ride and be perched on a seat with either of those wretched girls, nor any old woman either, for the whole afternoon. Do go—they’re waiting, and they’ll wish no Starks had ever been born. I guess they wish it already.”
Perforce, she had to go; but it wasn’t a happy drive for her. If her adored Monty was disgruntled over anything she felt the world a gloomy place. She did exert herself to be agreeable to the Judge, who sat beside her, yielding his place on the driver’s seat to Molly, whose manner was almost as “crisp” as Montmorency’s own. But she would rather have stayed behind to look after her son; and had she known what was to happen on that sunshiny afternoon she would have been even more sorry that she had not followed her inclination.
However, at that moment there was no cloudupon the day; and no sooner had the buckboard disappeared from sight than Montmorency Vavasour-Stark performed a sort of jig on the hotel verandah, threw up his cap, gave a loud Brentnor “yell” and dashed up the stairs to his room as fast as his short fat legs could move. Thence he soon reappeared, clad in his “athletics”—of which a broad-striped blue-and-white sweater attracted much attention.
He had now become “plain boy.” He had shed the “young gentleman” with vigor and completeness and was bent upon any sort of “lark” that would restore his usual good nature and complacency. He had observed whither disappeared the various bell-boys when off duty and meant “to stir up” one of them if nothing better offered.
Something better did offer, in the shape of Melvin Cook; calmly munching a slice of bread and butter in the stable-yard and as rejoiced as Monty himself to be quit for a time of women and girls and “manners” in general.
Montmorency hadn’t been attracted before to this “son of all the Cooks,” who was so fair of face and slender of build, but now he reflected that if he obtained permission to go into camp with the “Boys,” and the Judge, Melvin would, perforce, be his daily companion. As well begin now as ever then; so he accosted the bugler with the question:
“Say, can’t you get up something dandy for the rest of the day? We’ve shed those folks till dark, I guess, and I’m dying for anything doing. Eh?”
“I’ve hired a sail boat and am going out alone, except for Tommy here.”
Tommy was the most juvenile of all the bell-boys, a lad of not more than ten, who tried to appear quite as old as these others and who now strutted forward announcing:
“Yes, me and him is going out in the ‘Digby Chicken.’ A tidy craft but we’ll manage her all right, all right.”
“Cock-a-doodle-doo!” cried Monty, patting the child’s shoulder and incidentally slipping a quarter into the little fellow’s open palm; for it was a habit of the richer lad to bestow frequent tips whenever he journeyed anywhere, enjoying the popularity this gave him with his “inferiors.”
“A sail-boat? Can you manage a sail-boat, Melvin Cook, by yourself without a man to help you?” he demanded in sincere astonishment.
“Feel that!” answered Melvin, placing Monty’s hand upon his “muscle.” “There’s a bit of strength in that arm, eh, what? And you may not know that I come of a race of sailors and have almost lived upon the water all my life. Manage a sail-boat? Huh! If you choose to come along I’ll show you.”
Ten minutes later they were moving out in a their frail craft from the little pier across the street from the hotel; Melvin for skipper, Tommy for mate, and Montmorency for a passenger. That was the beginning. It did not dawn upon any of the trio what the ending of that sail would be.
The second bell for the last meal of the day had again rung, and again the Breckenridge party waited on the verandah for delinquents. Mrs. Stark positively declined to enter the dining-room until she had found out what had become of Montmorency. Mrs. Hungerford as positively declined to leave Mrs. Stark, and the Judge’s temper was again being sorely tried. Their twenty-mile drive and sight-seeing had sharpened appetites that already were quite sharp enough and the eminent jurist wanted his supper. To walk off his impatience, if he could, he paced up and down the long verandah at a brisk rate, which did not tend to allay that uncomfortable feeling in his “inner man.”
The hotel proprietor left the dining-room, where he personally superintended the serving of his guests, and joined the Judge, advising and complaining:
“We’ve the usual Saturday, week-end crowd in the house and I’d like to have your party get through in yonder soon’s you can, if you please.I’m driven half-crazy, nights like this, by the demands and exactions of these transient people. I need every man-jack of the help and somebody says that Tommy has gone off with your lads. Tommy is small but he’s the best bell-boy in the house and—I’ll trounce him well when he gets back for serving me such a trick. Best get your dinner now, Judge, or I’ll not promise you’ll be able to later. Excuse me for urging, it’s in your own interest, and—There comes another load from somewhere! and I haven’t a room to give them. Cots in the parlor, if they choose, nothing better?”
With that he hurried to meet the newcomers and the Judge said to Aunt Lu:
“We certainly should go in to table now. It does no good to sit here and wait. That doesn’t bring the runaways any sooner and they’d ought to go without their suppers if they’re so thoughtless of our comfort. Mrs. Stark, won’t you come?”
Then he observed that the lady was weeping copiously. It was now fixed in her mind that Monty was drowned. She had been told that he had gone sailing with that other dreadful bugler-boy the Judge had picked up, and, of course, this was the only explanation of his absence. She refused to be comforted and would have gone out in a boat herself to search for her son had she felt this would be of the slightest use. Indeed, she was fast becoming hysterical, and Mrs. Hungerford shook her head negatively when her brother begged her to leave her post and come with him.
“Very well, then, sister, Miss Greatorex and the girls and I will go without you. Afterward, when the boys come, I’ll try to have a special meal served for you somewhere. If I can! Come, Molly, Dolly; and I’m glad that you, Miss Greatorex, have some sense.”
So they departed and finding that Mrs. Stark was attracting the attention of the other guests upon the piazza, Aunt Lucretia persuaded her to cross the street to the pavilion that stood upon the bluff above the water and that was now deserted.
“From there we can see the boat as soon as it approaches, dear Mrs. Stark, and I feel sure you’ve no cause for such anxiety. Doubtless the boys have been fishing and have not realized how long. It is still bright daylight yonder and these are glorious moonlight nights. Even if they stayed out till bedtime they could see all right enough.”
Mrs. Stark followed the advice to seek the pavilion; yet simply because it brought her that much nearer her lost darling. But when a tray of supper was sent out to the two ladies there she refused to touch it and her grief spoiled her companion’s appetite as well.
After a little time Miss Greatorex and the girls retired to their rooms, at the Judge’s advice. He too had at last become infected with the anxious mother’s forebodings and felt that there was no need for Molly and Dolly to be also frightened. Then he joined the watchers in the pavilion, where the other guests refrained from disturbing them,although it was a favorite resort on pleasant evenings.
Many a boat came back to the various small piers extending from the shore into the water, here and there, but none was the little “Digby Chicken.” Her owner took his place at the end of the pier and sat down to wait. Of all his boats she was the newest and prettiest. She had sailed out into the sunlight glistening with white paint, her new sail white and unstained, and on her shining hull a decoration of herring surrounding her red-lettered name. It had been the builder’s conceit to omit the name, the string of painted fish answering for it to all but “foreigners;” but as it had been built for the use of these “foreigners” or “tourists” the printed words had finally been added.
Minutes passed. Quarter-hours; an hour; two of them; even three. There was no longer any moonlight. The distant cliffs and headlands became invisible. One could only guess where the Gap strove to close the entrance to an outer world. The hotel verandah became more and more deserted, and one by one the lights in the upper windows shone out for a time, then disappeared. Gradually all lights vanished save those in the lobby and a faint glimmer from a corridor above.
Though wraps has been early sent out to the anxious watchers in the pavilion, now heavy steamer rugs were brought, to keep out that penetrating chill. The Judge had on his heaviest overcoat and yet shivered, himself covering his long legs witha thick blanket. He had made several efforts to induce Mrs. Stark to go indoors but all had failed.
The fog that was slowly rising when the boat-owner took his station on the little quay below had crept nearer and nearer into shore, and finally enveloped everything and hidden it. So dense it was that from his bench on one side the circular pavilion the Judge could barely make out the white pillars on its opposite side. A lamp had been lighted in the roof but against this Mrs. Stark had vehemently protested, because it made that wall of white mist seem closer and more impenetrable, and without it she fancied that her eye could still pierce the distance, still discover any incoming craft.
About midnight the wind rose and the fog began to thin and scatter. The boatman on the pier had long ago left it, forced off by the rising tide, and now sat floating in one of the row-boats fastened there. He had put on his oilskins and set his oars in readiness for the first sign of distress on the face of the waters; but he had about given up hope of his pretty “Digby Chicken.” That a couple of touring lads, even though one had protested that he was a good sailor, that these should come safely through a night like this seemed unlikely; but now that the wind was rising and the fog lifting, he drew his boat close under the pole at the pier’s end and lighted the lantern which swung there. There was now a chance that its gleam might be seen from beyond and there had been none before.
Then another time of waiting, which ended with the boatman pulling out from shore. The watchers above had heard nothing, had not even seen him leave, although the lantern had faintly shown him riding upon the wave, moored to the pier by a rope.
But now, rubbing her strained eyes to clear their vision Mrs. Stark broke the long silence with a cry:
“The man! He isn’t there? He’s gone—to meet them!”
She was as sure of this now as she had been before that her son was drowned, and Mrs. Hungerford slipped an arm about her waist in pity. She dared not think what the result would be of a fresh disappointment.
However, their long vigil was really ended. The trained ear of the boatman had caught a faint halloo from somewhere on the water and had rowed toward the sound with all his strength and speed. At intervals he had paused to answer and to listen—and the now swiftly dispersing fog enabled him also to see—and finally to utter a little malediction under his breath. It scarcely needed the glass he raised to show him the “Digby Chicken” riding quietly on the water not more than half a league off shore. Her sail was furled, she looked taut and trim, and he could discern a figure at her prow which raised its arms and again hallooed.
“All’s well that ends well.” But it might not have been so well. The full story of that night’s work did not transpire at once. All that Mrs. Starkknew was that she had her son once more within her close embrace; that he had been helped, even carried, up the narrow pier and placed dripping within her arms. She ascribed his soaked condition to the fact of the fog and not to the truth; and it was not until daylight came that he told her that. Then lying warm in his bed, with her hovering over him in a flutter of delight and reproof, he announced:
“I tell you, Mamma, the only folks that amount to anything in this world are the poor ones!”
“Very likely, love, very likely. Only don’t distress yourself any more. I can’t forgive that wretched little bugling boy for taking you out in that horrible boat and nearly killing you. You’re very apt to have pneumonia or something—Don’t you feel pretty ill now?”
“Mamma,you can’t forgive him?What do you mean? Didn’t anybody tell?”
“Tell what, lovey. I certainly didn’t stop to ask questions. All I cared for was to get you into bed and a warm breakfast or supper or whatever it is sent up.”
“Then you don’t know that but for Melvin Cook I should be lying at the bottom of the Basin now, instead of in this bed?” demanded Monty, raising himself on his elbow.
The pallor that overspread his mother’s face was answer enough, and he blamed himself for the question. Even without knowing the worst truth she had evidently worried herself ill. But the mischiefwas done and when she asked: “What do you mean?” he thought it best to tell. Moreover he was anxious that she should know of Melvin’s bravery at once. So he answered:
“Well, I made a fool of myself. He had tackle and we fished along, just for nothing hardly, and I got cocky and jiggled the boat. Then when he said I’d better not but ought to lend a hand in working her and ‘learn sense,’ I—Well, I don’t remember exactly what happened after that; only I got up on the gunwale, or edge of the ‘Chicken’ and the next I knew I was in the water. It all came over me in a flash that I couldn’t swim and would drown and I shut my eyes and tried to say a prayer. But I couldn’t think, and then I felt something grab me. It was that Melvin. He’d tossed off his jacket and dove for me and was dragging me to the surface and the boat. I tried to get hold of him tighter but he kicked me off and said if I did that we’d both go down. I thought we would, anyhow, so I did let go and then he got me to the boat, yanking me by the collar and—that was all for a good while. I—I was pretty sick I guess. I’d swallowed so much salt water and all. He and Tommy rubbed me and jounced me around and paid no attention to the boat, that kept drifting further out all the time.
“I don’t remember much else. I lay on the bottom of the thing and the boys put their coats over me to stop my shivering. Melvin said afterward that I shivered from fear and shock more than fromdripping, too, but he couldn’t stop for that. He had to try to get back to shore and the fog was rising.
“Tommy told me a good deal, later on when I felt better. He said the fog got so thick Melvin was afraid to try and sail lest we should bump into some other craft. So we lay still till—I guess you know the rest. Now I want to hear, has anybody coddled either of those boys—heroes, both of ’em—as you’ve coddled me? If they haven’t been treated right I’ll make it lively for somebody. Anyhow, I want to get up and dress. I’m ashamed of myself. When I see how other boys act I think I’ve been—Well, I won’t call your lovey-dovey hard names! But you hear me say: I’ll be a man after this or—or know the reason why!”
It certainly was a long speech for a sick boy as Mrs. Stark persisted in considering him; and it left her shaken and most undecided on various points. Upon one, however, she was fully set; she would cut this Nova Scotia trip short at once. She would telegraph her husband in Boston and follow her telegram, bag and baggage, by that afternoon’s train. With this resolve in mind she left the room; merely bidding her son “lie still till I come back.”
Then she descended to the hotel office and called for a telegraph blank.
This was courteously provided; also pen and ink with which to inscribe it, which she promptly did, then the following dialogue:—
“Please send this message at once, clerk.”
“Sorry, Madam, but I can’t do it. Not to-day.”
“Why not?” haughtily.
“Office is closed. No despatches sent on Sunday. Can do it about sevena. m.Monday.”
“You mean to tell me that ridiculous stuff? Where is the office? If this second-rate hotel can’t accommodate its patrons I’ll take it myself.”
“The office is at the railway station, Madam. You will find it closed.”
“Indeed? Well, when does the first train start for Yarmouth and a steamer for the States, either Boston or New York?”
“At ten o’clock Monday morning. Upon arrival at Yarmouth meets steamers for both ports, Madam.”
“None, to-day?”
“None, Madam. It is a law of the Province. From Saturday night to Monday morning all traffic is suspended.”
Mrs. Stark did not continue the dialogue. She couldn’t. She was too astonished and too indignant. That she, Mrs. Ebenezer Stark, wife of the great banker of that name, should not be able to control a matter of this sort was simply incredible. With her head very high she left the desk and sought the Judge in his quiet corner of the piazza, where he sat, newspaper over face, trying to catch “forty winks” after his night of scant sleep.
He suppressed a yawn as he rose at the lady’s call.
“Judge Breckenridge, a moment, if you please. Sorry to disturb you but it’s most important. Iwant to send a telegram and that ridiculous clerk says I can’t do it.”
“Quite right. I’d like to myself and can’t.”
He placed a chair for her and she thoroughly aired her grievance. He sympathized but declared himself powerless to help her. She remarked:
“It is simply outrageous. A trap to keep visitors here whether or no. My husband will make it his business to alter the whole thing. I must go and take Monty away from here. I am in fear for his life. I shan’t rest till I see him safe back in his father’s arms.”
The Judge listened courteously, but said:
“We tourists have no business to find fault with the laws the Provincials make for themselves. We’d resent their interference in the States. As for taking your son away, just because of a little accident which ended all right, aren’t you making a mistake? In any case, since you cannot get away till to-morrow, anyway, wouldn’t it be wise for you to rest now and recuperate from your night of anxiety? Unless you will join us in church-going. Lucretia never lets me off that duty, even if I were inclined, but I’m not. Like herself I always enjoy service in strange churches. We would be most happy to have you?”
“Thank you, but I couldn’t. Not to-day. I’m too upset and weary. I couldn’t leave my darling boy, either, after he’s just been rescued from a—a watery grave. He’s just told me that he fell, or was pushed overboard, and that the bugling boy wasscared and helped him out. Oh! it makes me cold all over just to think of it!”
The Judge was no longer sleepy. His tone was sharp and judicial as he asked:
“Is that the version Montmorency gave of the affair?”
Then when she hesitated to answer, he added:
“Because I have heard quite a different one. I wormed it out of little Tommy, whom Melvin had threatened with punishment if he betrayed the really heroic part the ‘bugling boy’ played in the case. Doubly brave because, though he has tried his best to overcome it, Melvin has a horror of the sea. His father was drowned and if he followed his inclination the orphaned lad would never leave dry ground. But his race is a sea-faring one, and he knows that it may only be by following the profession of his forebears that he can ever earn a living for himself and his mother—though I should have put her first, as she certainly is in her son’s thoughts. When Montmorency fooled and fell overboard—by no means was pushed—Melvin conquered his own horror and plunged after him. If he hadn’t—Well, we shouldn’t be talking so calmly together now, you and I.”
Poor Mrs. Stark! She was torn and tossed by more emotions than had ever been hers during her easy life, and each emotion was at variance with another. She dropped into a chair to collect herself; and at the end of a few moments remarked:
“If that is the case I will do something for theboy. Whatever amount of money you think suitable, I will give you a check for.”
He wanted to retort sharply, but he didn’t. He forced himself to say quite gently:
“No payment, Mrs. Stark, would prove acceptable. In his victory over himself and his own cowardice Melvin has grown richer than any dollars could make him. If you will pardon my advice, don’t offer him anything save kindness and don’t make that too conspicuous. A shy boy needs careful handling.”
He bowed as she now rose and went her way, a very thoughtful woman. But her heart rejoiced beyond expression that no matter what the details of the night’s episode had been, her best-loved object in this world was safe and sound. She would go to him and basking in the sunshine of his beloved presence content herself as best she could, until tomorrow’s trains should bear them both away.
Alas! When she came to the room where she had left him she found no chance to “bask.” Her “sunshine” had again disappeared.