The first sight of Mrs. Bruce’s sad face, thatmorning, had been most depressing; and she was relieved to find a change in its aspect as the woman roused to action. There hadn’t been much breakfast eaten by anybody and Dorothy had begged her old friend to:
“Just give us lots of goodies, this first meal, Mrs. Bruce, no matter if we have to do with less afterwards. You see—three hundred dollars isn’t so very much——”
“It seems a lot to me, now,” sighed the widow.
But Dorothy went on quickly:
“And it’s every bit there is. When the last penny goes we’ll have to stop, even if the Lily is right out in the middle of the ocean.”
“Pshaw, Dolly! I thought you weren’t going out of sight of land!”
“Course, we’re not. That is—we shall never go anywhere if my skipper doesn’t start. I’ll run up to his bridge and see what’s the matter. You see I don’t like to offend him at the beginning of things and though Jim Barlow is really to manage the boat, I thought it would please the old gentleman to be put in charge, too.”
“Foolish girl, don’t you know that there can’t be two heads to any management?” returned the matron, now really smiling. “It’s an odd lot, a job lot, seems to me, of widows and orphans and cripples and rich folks all jumbled together in one little house-boat. More ’n likely you’ll find yourself in trouble real often amongst us all. That old chap above is mighty pleasant to look atnow, but he’s got too square a jaw to be very biddable, especially by a little girl like you.”
“But, Mrs. Bruce, he’s so poor. Why, just for a smell of salt water—or fresh either—he’s willing to sail this Lily; just for the sake of being afloat and—his board, course. He’ll have to eat, but he told me that a piece of sailor’s biscuit and a cup of warmed over tea would be all he’d ever ‘ax’ me. I told him right off then I couldn’t pay him wages and he said he wouldn’t touch them if I could. Think of that for generosity!”
“Yes, I’m thinking of it. Your plans are all right—I hope they’ll turn out well. A captain for nothing, an engineer the same, a housekeeper who’s glad to cook for the sake of her daughter’s pleasure, and the rest of the crew belonging—so no more wages to earn than always. Sounds—fine. By the way, Dorothy, who deals out the provisions on this trip?”
“Why, you do, of course, Mrs. Bruce, if you’ll be so kind. Aunt Betty can’t be bothered and I don’t know enough. Here’s a key to the ‘lockers,’ I guess they call the pantries; and now Imustmake that old man give the word to start! Why, Aunt Betty thought we’d get as far as Annapolis by bed-time. She wants to cruise first on the Severn river. And we haven’t moved an inch yet!”
“Well, I’ll go talk with Chloe about dinner. She’ll know best what’ll suit your aunt.”
Dorothy was glad to see her old friend’s facebrighten with a sense of her own importance, as “stewardess” for so big a company of “shipmates,” and slipping her arm about the lady’s waist went with her to the “galley,” or tiny cook-room on the tender. There she left her, with strict injunctions to Chloe not to let her “new mistress” overtire herself.
It was Aunt Betty’s forethought which had advised this, saying:
“Let Chloe understand, in the beginning, that she is the helper—not the chief.”
Leaving them to examine and delight in the compact arrangements of the galley she sped up the crooked stair to old Captain Jack. To her surprise she found him anything but the sunny old fellow who had strutted aboard, and he greeted her with a sharp demand:
“Where’s them papers at?”
“Papers? What papers?”
“Ship’s papers, child alive? Where’s your gumption at?”
Dorothy laughed and seated herself on a camp-stool beside him.
“Reckon it must be ‘at’ the same place as the ‘papers.’ I certainly don’t understand you.”
“Land a sissy! ’Spect we’d be let to sail out o’ port ’ithout showin’ our licenses? Not likely; and the fust thing a ship’s owner ought to ’tend to is gettin’ a clean send off. For my part, I don’t want to hug this dock no longer. I want to take her out with the tide, I do.”
Dorothy was distressed. How much or how little this old captain of an oyster boat knew about this matter, he was evidently in earnest and angry with somebody—herself, apparently.
“If we had any papers, and we haven’t—who’d we show them to, anyway?”
Captain Hurry looked at her as if her ignorance were beyond belief. Then his good nature made him explain:
“What’s a wharf-master for, d’ye s’pose? When you hand ’em over I’ll see him an’ up anchor.”
But, at that moment, Mr. Carruthers himself appeared on the roof of the cabin, demanding:
“What’s up, Cap’n Jack? Why don’t you start—if it’s you who’s to manage this craft, as you claim? If you don’t cut loose pretty quick, my Elsa will get homesick and desert.”
The skipper rose to his feet, or his crutches, and retorted:
“Can’t clear port without my dockyments, an’ you know it! Where they at?”
“Safe in the locker meant for them, course. Young Barlow has all that are necessary and a safe keeper of them, too. Better give up this nonsense and let him go ahead. Easier for you, too, Cap’n, and everything’s all right. Good-bye, Miss Dorothy. I’ll slip off again without seeing Elsa, and you understand? If she gets too homesick for me, or is ill, or—anything happens, telegraphme from wherever you are and I’ll come fetch her. Good-bye.”
He was off the boat in an instant and very soon the Water Lily had begun her trip. The engineer, Mr. Stinson, was a busy man and made short work of Captain Hurry’s fussiness. He managed the start admirably, Jim and the other lads watching him closely, and each feeling perfectly capable of doing as much—or as little—as he. For it seemed so very simple; the turning of a crank here, another there, and the thing was done.
However, they didn’t reach Annapolis that night, as Mrs. Calvert had hoped. Only a short distance down the coast they saw signs of a storm and the lady grew anxious at once.
“O Dolly! It’s going to blow, and this is no kind of a boat to face a gale. Tell somebody, anybody, who is real captain of this Lily, to get to shore and anchor her fast. She must be tied to something strong. I never sailed on such a craft before nor taken the risk of caring for so many lives. Make haste.”
This was a new spirit for fearless Aunt Betty to show and, although she herself saw no suggestions of a gale in the clouding sky, Dorothy’s one desire was to make that dear lady happy. So, to the surprise of the engineers, she gave her message, that was practically a command, and a convenient beach being near it was promptly obeyed.
“O, Mr. Captain, stop the ship—I want to get out and walk!” chanted Gerald Blank, in irony; “Is anybody seasick? Has the wild raging of the Patapsco scared the lady passengers? I brought a lemon in my pocket——”
But Dorothy frowned at him and he stopped.
“It is Mrs. Calvert’s wish,” said the girl, with emphasis.
“But Pop would laugh at minding a few black clouds. He built the Water Lily to stand all sorts of weather. Why, he had her out in one of the worst hurricanes ever blew on the Chesapeake and she rode it out as quiet as a lamb. Fact. I wasn’t with him, course, but I heard him tell. I say, Miss Dolly, Stinson’s got to leave us, to-night, anyway, or early to-morrow morning. I wish you’d put me in command. I do so, don’t you know. I understand everything about a boat. Pop has belonged to the best clubs all his life and I’m an ‘Ariel’ myself—on probation; that is, I’ve been proposed, only not voted on yet, and I could sail this Lily to beat the band. Aw, come! Won’t you?” he finished coaxingly.
John Stinson was laughing, yet at the same time, deftly swinging both boats toward the shore; while Jim Barlow’s face was dark with anger, Cap’n Jack was nervously thumping his crutches up and down, and even gentle Melvin had retreated as far from the spot as the little tender allowed. His shoulders were hunched in the fashion which showed him, also, to be provokedand, for an instant Dorothy was distressed. Then the absurdity of the whole matter made her laugh.
“Seems if everybody wants to be captain, on this bit of a ship that isn’t big enough for one real one! Captain Hurry, Captain Barlow, Captain Blank, Captain Cook——”
“What do Barlow and Cook know about the water? One said he was a ‘farmer,’ and the other a ‘lawyer’s clerk’——”
“But a lawyer’s clerk that’s sailed the ocean, mind you, Gerald. Melvin’s a sailor-lad in reality, and the son of a sailor. You needn’t gibe at Melvin. As for Jim, he’s the smartest boy in the world. He understands everything about engines and machinery, and—Why, he can take a sewing-machine to pieces, all to pieces, and put it together as good as new. He did that for mother Martha and Mrs. Smith back home on the mountain, and at San Leon, last summer, he helped Mr. Ford decide on the way the new mine should be worked, just by the books he’d studied. Think of that! And Mr. Ford’s a railroad man himself and is as clever as he can be. He knows mighty well what’s what and he trusts our Jim——”
“Dorothy, shut up!”
This from Jim, that paragon she had so praised! The effect was a sudden silence and a flush of anger on her own face. If the lad had struck her she couldn’t have been more surprised,nor when Melvin faced about and remarked:
“Better stow this row. If Captain Murray, that I sailed under on the ‘Prince,’ heard it he’d say there’d be serious trouble before we saw land again. If we weren’t too far out he’d put back to port and set every wrangler ashore and ship new hands. It’s awful bad luck to fight at sea, don’t you know?”
Sailors are said to be superstitious and Melvin had caught some of their notions and recalled them now. He had made a longer speech than common and colored a little as he now checked himself. Fortunately he just then caught Mrs. Bruce’s eye and understood from her gestures that dinner was ready to serve. Then from the little locker he had appropriated to his personal use, he produced his bugle and hastily blew “assembly.”
The unexpected sound restored peace on the instant. Dorothy clapped her hands and ran to inform Aunt Betty:
“First call for dinner; and seats not chosen yet!”
All unknown to her two tables had been pulled out from somewhere in the boat’s walls and one end of the long saloon had been made a dining-room. The tables were as neatly spread as if in a stationary house and chairs had been placed beside them on one side, while the cushionedbenches which ran along the wall would seat part of the diners.
With his musical signals, Melvin walked the length of the Water Lily and climbed the stairs to cross the “promenade deck,” as the awning-covered roof was always called. As he descended, Aunt Betty called him to the little room off one end the cabin, which was her own private apartment, and questioned him about his bugle.
“Yes, Madam, it’s the one you gave me at Deerhurst, at the end of Dorothy’s house-party. My old one I gave Miss Molly, don’t you know? Because she happened to fancy—on account of her hearing it in the Nova Scotia woods, that time she was lost. It wasn’t worth anything, but she liked it. Yours, Madam, is fine. I often go off for a walk and have a try at it, just to keep my hand in and to remind me of old Yarmouth. Miss Molly begged me to fetch it. She said Miss Dolly would be pleased and I fancy she is.”
Then again conquering his shyness, he offered his arm to the lady and conducted her to dinner. There was no difficulty in seeing what place was meant for her, because of the fine chair that was set before it and the big bunch of late roses at her plate. These were from the Bellvieu garden, and were another of Dolly’s “surprises.”
As Melvin led her to her chair and bowed in leaving her, old Ephraim placed himself behindit and stood ready to serve her as he had always done, wherever she might happen to be.
Then followed a strange thing. Though Mrs. Bruce and Chloe had prepared a fine meal, and the faces of all in the place showed eagerness to enjoy it, not one person moved; but each stood as rigid as possible and as if he or she would so remain for the rest of the day.
Only Dorothy. She had paused between the two tables and was half-crying, half-laughing over the absurd dilemma which had presented itself.
“Why, good people, what’s the matter?” asked Mrs. Calvert, glancing from one to another. But nobody answered; and at this mark of disrespect she colored and stiffened herself majestically in her chair.
“Aunt Betty, it’s Captain Hurry, again!” explained Dorothy, close to her aunt’s ear. “He claims that the captain of any boat always has head table. He’s acted so queer even the boys hate to sit near him, and the dinner’s spoiling and—and I wish I’d never seen him!”
“Very likely. Having seen him it would have been better for you to ask advice before you invited him. He was the picture of happiness when he appeared but—we must get rid of him right away. He must be put ashore at once.”
“But, Aunt Betty, I invited him.Invitedhim, don’t you see? How can a Calvert tell a guest to go home again after that?”
Mrs. Calvert laughed. This was quoting her own precepts against herself, indeed. But she was really disturbed at the way their trip was beginning and felt it was time “to take the helm” herself. So she stood up and quietly announced:
“This is my table. I invite Mrs. Bruce to take the end chair, opposite me. Aurora and Mabel, the wall seats on one side; Dorothy andElsa, the other side, with Elsa next to me, so that she may be well looked after.
“Captain Hurry, the other table is yours. Arrange it as you choose.”
She reseated herself amid a profound silence; but one glance into her face convinced the old Captain that here was an authority higher than his own. The truth was that he had been unduly elated by Dorothy’s invitation and her sincere admiration for the cleverness he boasted. He fancied that nobody aboard the Water Lily knew anything about “Navigation” except himself and flattered himself that he was very wise in the art. He believed that he ought to assert himself on all occasions and had tried to do so. Now, he suddenly resumed his ordinary, sunshiny manner, and with a grand gesture of welcome motioned the three lads to take seats at the second table.
Engineer Stinson was on the tender and would remain there till the others had finished; and the colored folks would take their meals in the galley after the white folks had been served.
“Well, that ghost is laid!” cried Dorothy, when dinner was over and she had helped Aunt Betty to lie down in her own little cabin. “But Cap’n Jack is so different, afloat and ashore!”
“Dolly, dear, I allowed you to invite whom you wished, but I’m rather surprised by your selections. Why, for instance, the two Blanks?”
“Because I was sorry for them.”
“They’re not objects of pity. They’re quite the reverse and the girl’s manners are rude and disagreeable. Her treatment of Elsa is heartless. Why didn’t you choose your own familiar friends?”
“Elsa! Yes, indeed, Auntie, dear, without her dreaming of it, Elsa changed all my first plans for this house-boat party. I fell in love with her gentle, sad little face the first instant I saw it and I just wanted to see it brighten. She looked as if she’d never had a good time in her life and I wanted that she should have. Then she said it would be ‘A cruise of loving kindness’ and I thought that was beautiful. I just longed to give every poor, unhappy body in the world some pleasure. The Blanks aren’t really poor, I suppose, for their clothes are nice and Aurora has brought so many I don’t see where she’ll keep them. But she seemed poor in one way—like this: If you’d built the Water Lily for me and had had to give it up for debt I shouldn’t have felt nice to some other girl who was going to get it. I thought the least I could do was ask them to come with us and that would be almost the same thing as if they still owned the house-boat themselves. They were glad enough to come, too; and I know—I mean, I hope—they’ll be real nice after we get used to each other. You know we asked Jim because we were sort of sorry for him, too, and because he wouldn’t charge any wages for taking care the engine! Mrs. Bruceand Mabel—well, sorry for them was their reason just the same. You don’t mind, really, do you, Auntie, darling? ’Cause——”
Dorothy paused and looked anxiously into the beloved face upon the pillow.
Aunt Betty laughed and drew the girl’s own face down to kiss it fondly. Dorothy made just as many mistakes as any other impulsive girl would make, but her impulses were always on the side of generosity and so were readily forgiven.
“How about me, dear? Were you sorry for me, along with the rest?”
Dorothy flushed, then answered frankly:
“Yes, Aunt Betty, I was. You worried so about that horrid ‘business,’ of the Old Folks’ Home and Bellvieu, that I just wanted to take you away from everything you’d ever known and let you have everything new around you. They are all new, aren’t they? The Blanks and Elsa, and the Bruces; yes and Captain Jack, too. Melvin’s always a dear and he seems sort of new now, he’s grown so nice and friendly. I’d rather have had dear Molly, course, but, since I couldn’t, Melvin will do. He’ll be company for Jim—he and Gerald act like two pussy cats jealous of one another. But isn’t it going to be just lovely, living on the Water Lily? I mean, course, after everybody gets used to each other and we get smoothed off on our corners. I guess it’s like the engine in the Pad. Mr. Stinson says it’ll runa great deal better after it’s ‘settled’ and each part gets fitted to its place.
“There! I’ve talked you nearly to sleep, so I’ll go on deck with the girls. It isn’t raining yet, and doesn’t look as if it were going to. Sleep well, dear Aunt Betty, and don’t you dare to worry a single worry while you’re aboard the Lily. Think of it, Auntie! You are my guest now, my really, truly guest of honor! Doesn’t that seem queer? But you’re mistress, too, just the same.”
Well, it did seem as if even this brief stay on the house-boat were doing Mrs. Calvert good, for Dorothy had scarcely slipped away before the lady was asleep. No sound came to her ears but the gentle lapping of the water against the boat’s keel and a low murmur of voices from the narrow deck which ran all around the sides.
When she awoke the craft was in motion and the sun shining far in the west. She was rather surprised at this, having expected the Lily to remain anchored in that safe spot which had been chosen close to shore. However, everything was so calm and beautiful when she stepped out, the smooth gliding along the wooded banks was so beautiful, that she readily forgave anybody who had disobeyed her orders. Indeed, she smilingly assured herself that she was now:
“Nothing and nobody but a guest and must remember the fact and not interfere. Indeed, it will be delightful just to rest and idle for a time.”
Dorothy came to meet her, somewhat afraid to explain:
“I couldn’t help it this time, Aunt Betty. Mr. Stinson says he must leave at midnight and he wants to ‘make’ a little town a few miles further down the shore, where he can catch a train back to city. That will give him time to go on with his work in the morning. Old Cap’n Jack, too, says we’d better get along. The storm passed over, to-day, but he says we’re bound to get it soon or late.”
Mrs. Calvert’s nap had certainly done her good, for she was able now to laugh at her own nervousness and gaily returned:
“It would be strange, indeed, if we didn’t get a storm sometime or other. But how is the man conducting himself now?”
“Why, Aunt Betty, he’s just lovely. Lovely!”
“Doesn’t seem as if that adjective fitted very well, but—Ah! yes. Thank you, my child, I will enjoy sitting in that cosy corner and watching the water. How low down upon it the Water Lily rides.”
Most of this was said to Elsa, who had timidly drawn near and silently motioned to a sheltered spot on the deck and an empty chair that waited there. She had never seen such a wonderful old lady as this; a person who made old age seem even lovelier than youth.
Aunt Betty’s simple gown of lavender suited her fairness well, and she had pinned one ofDorothy’s roses upon her waist. Her still abundant hair of snowy whiteness and the dark eyes, that were yet bright as a girl’s, had a beauty which appealed to the sensitive Elsa’s spirit. A fine color rose in the frail girl’s face as her little attention was so graciously accepted, and from that moment she became Aunt Betty’s devoted slave.
Her shyness lessened so that she dared to flash a look of scorn upon Aurora, who shrugged her shoulder with annoyance at the lady’s appearance on deck and audibly whispered to Mabel Bruce that:
“She didn’t see why an old woman like that had to join a house-boat party. Whenwehad the Water Lily we planned to have nobody but the jolliest ones we knew. We wouldn’t have hadmygrandmother along, no matter what.”
Mabel looked at the girl with shocked eyes. She had been fascinated by Aurora’s dashing appearance and the stated fact that she had only worn her “commonest things,” which to Mabel’s finery-loving soul seemed really grand. But to hear that aristocratic dame yonder spoken of as an “old woman,” like any ordinary person, was startling.
“Why Aurora—you said I might call you that——”
“Yes, you may. While we happen to be boatmates and out of the city, you know. At home, I don’t know as Mommer would—would—Yousee she’s very particular about the girls I know. I shall be in ‘Society’ sometime, when Popper makes money again. But, what were you going to say?”
“I was going to say that maybe you don’t know who that lady is. She is Mrs. Elisabeth Cecil-Somerset-Calvert!”
“Well, what of it? Anybody can tie a lot of names on a string and wear ’em that way. Even Mommer calls herself Mrs. Edward Newcomer-Blank of R.”
“Why ‘of R?’ What does it mean?” asked Mabel, again impressed.
“Doesn’t mean anything, really, as far as I know. But don’t you know a lot of Baltimoreans, or Marylanders, write their names that way? Haven’t you seen it in the papers?”
“No. I never read a paper.”
“You ought. To improve your mind and keep you posted on—on current events. I’m in the current event class at school—I go to the Western High. I was going to the Girls’ Latin, this year, only—only—Hmm. So I have to keep up with the times.”
Aurora settled her silken skirts with a little swagger and again Mabel felt it a privilege to know so exalted a young person, even if their acquaintance was limited to a few weeks of boat life. Then she listened quite humbly while Aurora related some of her social experiences and discussedwith a grown-up air her various flirtations.
But after a time she tired of all this, and looked longingly across to the tender, on whose rail Dorothy was now perched, with the three lads clustered about her, and all intently listening to the “yarns” with which Cap’n Jack was entertaining them.
All that worthy’s animation had returned to him. He had eaten the best of dinners in place of the “ship’s biscuit” he had suggested to his small hostess: he was relieved of care—which he had pretended to covet; and the group of youngsters before him listened to his marvellous tales of the sea with perfect faith in his truthfulness.
Some of the tales had a slight foundation in fact; but even these were so embellished by fiction as to be almost incredible. In any case, the shouts of laughter or the cries of horror that rose from his audience so attracted Mabel that, at last, she broke away from Aurora’s tamer recitals, saying:
“I’m getting stiff, sitting in one place so long. I’ll go over to Dolly. She and me have been friends ever since time was. good-bye. Or, will you come, too?”
In her heart, Aurora wished to do so. But hoping to impress her new acquaintance by her magnificence, she had put on a fanciful white silk frock, wholly unfitted for her present tripand, indeed, slyly packed in her trunk without her mother’s knowledge. The deck of the Pad wasn’t as spotless as this of the Lily. Even at that moment small Methuselah was swashing it with a great mop, which dripped more water than it wiped up. His big eyes were fairly bulging from his round black face and, having drawn as near the story-teller as he could, he mopped one spot until Dolly called out:
“That’ll do, Metty, boy! Tackle another board. Mustn’t wear out the deck with your neatness!”
Whereupon old Captain Hurry swung his crutch around and caught the youngster with such suddenness that he pitched head-first into his own big bucket. Freeing himself with a howl, he raised his mop as high as his strength would allow and brought it down upon the captain’s glittering cap.
It was the seaman’s turn to howl and an ill-matched fight would have followed if Jim hadn’t caught the pickaninny away and Dorothy seized the cripple’s headgear before it suffered any great harm. Gently brushing it with her handkerchief she restored it to its owner’s head, with the remark:
“Don’t mind Metty, Cap’n Jack. He means well, every time, only he has a little too hasty a temper. He never heard such wonderful stories before—nor I, either, for that matter. Did you, boys?”
She had believed them wholly, but Jim had begun to doubt; and Melvin was bold enough to say:
“I’ve sailed a good many times between New York and Yarmouth, Nova Scotia, but I never saw—I mean, I haven’t happened, don’t you know? I wouldn’t fancy being out alone in a cat-boat and having a devil-fish rise up alongside that way. I——”
“Young man, do you doubt my word, sir?” demanded the Captain, rising with all the dignity his lameness and the dropping of his crutch would allow.
“Oh! no, sir. I doubt nothing—nothing, sir. The Judge says the world is full of marvels and I fancy, your encounter with that giant squid is one of them. You should have that story published, Captain. You should, don’t you know?”
Melvin’s blue eyes twinkled but the otherwise gravity of his face harmlessly deceived the old seaman and brought back his good temper.
“Reckon I’ll go aloft and make out my log,” he remarked, with an air of importance, and stumped forward to his “bridge” above stairs. These he ascended, as before, by a hand-over-hand climb of the baluster, his crutches dragging behind; and it was this nimbleness of arm which convinced the watchers, far more than his impossible yarns had done, that he had indeed once been a sailor and could ascend the rigging of a ship.
Then soon came supper and again such hearty appetites were brought to it that Mrs. Bruce wondered how so much good food could disappear at one meal. Also, she remembered that the sum of three hundred dollars had a limit, large as it seemed; and while she sat silent in her place she was inwardly computing whether it would possibly furnish board for all these people for six long weeks.
Then she proceeded to “count noses,” and suddenly perceived that after Mr. Stinson’s departure there would be left the “unlucky number” of thirteen souls aboard the Water Lily.
This time the engineer was at table and Jim had taken his place on the tender; but after this, he had assured everybody that the engine did not need such constant attention and could be left to itself during meal-time at least.
However, nobody tarried long at table that night. There was to follow the first arrangement of the “staterooms,” as the canvas-partitioned spaces for each one of the party were called.
“Cute little cubby-holes,” Mabel named them, and promptly selected her own between her mother’s and Aurora’s. Dorothy was next to Aurora and Elsa between her and Mrs. Calvert’s bigger room.
Politely giving Elsa her choice, Dorothy couldn’t help a keen disappointment that it separated herself from Aunt Betty. Then she reflectedthat she had offered this choice as far back as on the day of their first meeting; and that she would herself serve as shield between Aurora’s haughtiness and Elsa’s timidity.
Those two guests didn’t hit it off at all well. Elsa shivered and shrank before Aurora’s boisterous high spirits and the look of contempt the elder girl bestowed upon her plain attire.
Poor little Elsa had done her best to honor the occasion. She had forced herself to go with her loving father to a department store and had suffered real distress in being fitted at the hands of a kindly, but too outspoken, saleswoman.
The suit selected had been of an ugly blue which brought out all the sallowness of the poor child’s complexion. It had been padded on one shoulder, “’cause she’s crooked in them shoulders,” and had been shortened on one side, “to suit the way she limps.” A hat of the same vicious blue had been purchased, and this trimmed with red roses, “to sort of set her up like.”
Thus attired, Mr. Carruthers had looked with pride upon his motherless darling, and felt himself amply justified in the expense he had incurred. The girl’s own better taste had rebelled and she would rather have worn the old gray frock that was at least modest and unobtrusive; but she saw the pride and tenderness in her father’s eyes and said nothing save fervent thanks.
However, all the varied emotions of the travellerswere soon forgotten in the healthy slumber which came to them. The Water Lily glided quietly along, forced onward by the tender where the trio of lads sat long, exchanging experiences and, under cover of the friendly darkness, growing natural and familiar.
But after a time even they grew drowsy and “turned in,” finding their new “bunks” as snug as comfortable. The chug-chug of the small engine chimed in with the snores of the colored folks, in their own quarters beyond the galley and formed a soothing lullaby.
So deeply they slept that none knew how a storm was gathering thick and fast, except the alert engineer, who made all speed possible to reach the shelter of the little cove and wharf where he hoped to tie up; and from whence he could cross the swampy fields to the station and the midnight train for home.
It proved a race of steam and storm, with the latter victor; for at almost boat’s length from the pier there came a blinding flash of lightning and a peal of thunder most terrific. At the same moment a whirlwind shook the Water Lily like a feather, it seemed, and the shrieks of the awaking negroes startled every soul awake.
“’Tis de yend o’ de worl’! ’Tis de Jedgmen’ Day! Rise up, sinnahs, rise to yo’ jedgmen’!”
In an instant a crowd of terrified people had gathered in the cabin, clasping one another’s hands, sobbing and shivering as gust after gust shook the Water Lily so that it seemed its timbers must part.
“We mought ha’ knowed! Thirteen po’ creatures shet up in dis yeah boat! Oh! My——”
The greatest outcry was from poor Chloe, now kneeling, or crouching, at the feet of her Miss Betty, and clutching the lady’s gown so that she could not move. But if her feet were hindered her tongue was not. In her most peremptory manner she bade:
“Chloe, get up and be still! This is no time for nonsense. Close those windows. Stop the rain pouring in. Call back your common sense. Do——”
“O, Ole Miss! I’se done dyin’! I’se gwine——”
“No, you’re not. You couldn’t screech like that if you were anywhere’s near death. Shut—those—windows—or—let—me!”
Habit was stronger than fear. The idea of her mistress doing Chloe’s own task roused thefrightened creature to obey, scarce knowing that she did so. Seeing her at work restored the calmness of the others, in a measure, and Dorothy and Mabel rushed each to the sliding panels of glass, which had been left open for the night and pushed them into place.
This lessened the roar of the tempest and courage returned as they found themselves still unhurt, though the constant flashes of light revealed a group of very white faces, and bodies still shaking with terror of nature’s rage. Mrs. Bruce had always been a coward during thunderstorms, but even she rallied enough to run for a wrap and fold it about Mrs. Calvert, who was also shaking; but from cold rather than fear.
Then between claps, they could hear the scurrying of feet on the roof overhead, the stumping of Captain Jack’s crutches, and the issuing of sharp orders in tones that were positively cheerful!
“Hark! What are they doing? Can anybody see the tender?” asked Dorothy, excitedly.
Strangely enough, it was frail, timid Elsa who answered:
“I’ve been listening. They’re taking off the canvas. The boys are up there. The other boat is away out—yonder. See? Oh! it’s grand! grand! Doesn’t it make us all seem puny! If it would only last till everyone was humble and—adoring!”
Even while she answered, the slender girlturned again to the window and gazed through it as if she could not have enough of the scene so frightful to her mates. These watched her, astonished, yet certainly calmed by her own fearless behavior; so that, presently, all were hastily dressing.
Mabel had set the example in this, saying quaintly:
“If I’ve got to be drowned I might as well look decent when I’m picked up.”
“Mabel and her clothes! The ‘ruling passion strong in death’!” cried Dorothy, in a tone meant to be natural but was still rather shaky. Somebody laughed and that lessened the excitement, so that even Chloe remembered she had appeared without her white turban and hastily put her hands smoothing her wool, as if afraid now only of her mistress’s reprimand.
But that lady had joined Elsa at the glass; and standing with her arm about the girl, drew the slight figure within the folds of her own roomy wrapper, with a comforting warmth and pressure. For it had turned icy cold and the unusual heat of the evening before seemed like a dream.
“Dear little girl, I am glad you came. Brave soul and frail body, you’re stronger than even my healthy Dorothy. And it is magnificent—magnificent. Only, I dread what the morning will reveal. If we are damaged much it will mean the end of our trip—at its very beginning.”
“Dear lady; it won’t mean that. Even if ithad to do it would be all right—for me, at least. I should have some beautiful things to remember always.”
Then the cheerfulest of whistling was heard; Cap’n Jack’s warning that he was coming down the stairs and that any feminines in night attire might take warning and flee.
But nobody fled, and Dorothy tried to turn on the electric light which had been one of the fine features of this palatial house-boat. No radiance followed, and, watching from the doorway, Cap’n Jack triumphantly exclaimed:
“Didn’t I know it? What’s them new-fangled notions wuth in a case o’ need? Taller’s the stuff, or good, reli’ble whale-ile. Well, ship’s comp’ny, how’d ye like it? Warn’t that the purtiest leetle blow ’t ever you see? Didn’t I warn ye ’twas comin’? Yet ye went an’ allowed I warn’t no real captain and couldn’t run a boat like this easy as George Washin’ton! Now you’re wiser. That there leetle gale has larnt ye all somethin’. And ’nough said. Give old Jack a couple o’ sail or so an’ a man to climb the riggin’ an’ he’ll beat all the steam engines ever was hatched. Oh! I’m just feelin’ prime. That bit o’ wind has blowed all the land-fog out o’ my head an’ left it clear as glass.
“‘A life on the ocean wave,A home on the rolling de-e-ep.’”
“‘A life on the ocean wave,A home on the rolling de-e-ep.’”
The old man’s rich voice trailed off toward the tender—or where the tender should have been—while a clear and boyish one took up the ditty from the roof above, with:
“‘Where the scattered waters raveAnd the wi-i-inds their vigils ke-e-ep!’”
“‘Where the scattered waters raveAnd the wi-i-inds their vigils ke-e-ep!’”
“Melvin! Jim! Gerald! Are you all up there? Come down, come down!”
“Yes, Captain Dolly! Coming! Here!” shouted Melvin, rattling down the crooked stair, while Jim’s voice responded: “Present!” and Gerald finished with a merry: “Accounted for!”
Then Aurora ran to meet her brother and to kiss him with an unexpected affection. To his credit it was that he gently returned her caress, but laughed at her statement that she had feared he was drowned.
“Not a bit of it! But this doesn’t look much like mourning, if you did!” he jested, pointing at the white silk frock she had again put on.
“Well, it was the first one I got hold of. That’s why. But, tell—tell—how came you up there?”
“Yes, everything, tell everything!” begged Dorothy, fairly dancing about them in her eagerness.
“Melvin—Melvin did it!” said Jim. “We might all be at the bottom of the sea——”
“Hush!” almost screamed Aurora, beginning to tremble. “It was so horrible—I——”
With more of sympathy than had been between them before, Dolly slipped her arm around Aurora’s shoulders and playfully ordered:
“If you boys don’t tell how you came on our promenade deck, when you belonged on the tender, you sha’n’t have any breakfast!”
“Melvin. I tell you it was Melvin. He’s the only one of us didn’t sleep like a log. He felt the hurricane coming, right through his dreams, and waked the lot of us, as soon as the first clap came. So he rushed us over the plank to take off theawnings——”
“With such a wind sucking under them might have made the boat turn turtle, Mrs. Calvert, don’t you know? At sea—that’s why I presumed to give orderswithout——”
“Oh, my dear lad, I now ‘order’ you to ‘give orders’ whenever you think best. We can trust you, and do thank you. But how dark it seems now the lightning has stopped. Isn’t there any sort of light we can get?” said Aunt Betty, sitting down with Elsa and folding a steamer rug around them both.
Cap’n Jack came stumping back from the rear of the boat in a high state of excitement and actual glee.
“Clean gone! Plank a-swingin’ loose—caught it a-board just in time—t’other boat flip-floppin’ around like she was all-possessed. Reckon she is. The idee! A reg’lar steam engine on a craft not much bigger ’n itself! What this house-boatneeds isn’t steam engines but a set of stout sails an’ a few fust-class poles. Come, lads, let’s anchor her—if the fool that built her didn’t put them on the tender, too, alongside his other silly contraptions.”
Mrs. Calvert wondered if the old fellow knew what he was talking about, but found the resolute tones of his voice a comfort. Whoever else was frightened he was not and she liked him better at that moment than she would have thought possible. All his whining discontent was gone and he was honestly happy. What the others felt to be a terrible misfortune was his opportunity to prove himself the fine “skipper” he had boasted of being.
But now that the roar of the storm had subsided, there came across the little space of water between the Lily and its Pad the outcries of Ephraim and Methuselah, mingled with halloes of the engineer, John Stinson.
“They want to come alongside! They’re signallin’!” cried Cap’n Jack, promptly putting his hands before his mouth, trumpet-fashion, and returning such a lusty answer that those near him clapped hands over ears.
Then came Melvin, more sea-wise than the other lads, saying:
“I’ve been fumbling around and there are some poles lashed outside the rail. Let’s unsheath ’em, but it’ll take us all to keep them from tumbling over.”
“That’s so! You’re right! When Pop had this boat built he was told to provide for all sorts of things. The engine going broke was the last notion he had, but he had the poles made to please Mommer. I know—I mean—I guess I do—how they use ’em, but they’re mighty heavy.”
It was Captain Hurry who again came to the front. In a twinkling he had inspected the stout poles and explained, that by putting one end of each down through the water till it reached the bottom, the house-boat could not only be held steady but could be propelled.
“It’s slow but it’s safe an’ easy, Ma’am,” he informed Mrs. Calvert.
“Then it’s the very thing, the only thing, we want,” she answered, promptly. “I never did believe in that engine in the hands of an amateur.”
Jim didn’t fancy this reflection on his skill, believing that he already knew as much about machinery as an expert did and that he had mastered all that John Stinson could teach him. However, he was beyond reach of the beloved little engine now and the first thing to do was to bring the two boats together again.
Under Cap’n Jack’s direction this was promptly done; and great was old Ephraim’s rejoicing when, at last, the familiar gang-plank was once more in place and he had crossed over it to his beloved mistress’s presence.
“T’ank de Lord, Miss Betty, you didn’t get sca’ed to death! I sutney beliebed we was allgwine to de bottom of de ribbah! An’ I was plumb scan’lized ter t’ink o’ yo’ po’ li’l white body all kivvered wid mud, stidder lyin’ in a nice, clean tomb lak yo’ oughter. I——”
“That’ll do, Ephraim. I’ll take all the rest you were going to say for granted. Here, Metty, sit down in that corner and keep still. You’re safe now and—are you hungry?”
The morning light was rapidly increasing and seen by it the little black face looked piteous indeed. But there were few troubles of Methuselah’s which “eatings” couldn’t cure; so his mistress promptly dispatched Dorothy to her stateroom for a big box of candy, brought along “in case of need.” Never would need be more urgent than now, and not only did the little page’s countenance brighten, when the box appeared, but everybody else dipped into it as eagerly—it seemed such a relief to do such an ordinary thing once more.
The sun rose and shone as if to make them forget the night of storm; and after a breakfast, hastily prepared on the little oil stove in the tender, a feeling of great content spread through the little company. Engineer Stinson had missed his train, but was now glad of it; for he had gained time to examine the engine, though disappointed at the report he had to make.
“Useless, for the present, Madam, I regret to say. Owing to the sudden jar against the end of the wharf, or the wind’s dashing the tenderabout, some parts are broken. To get it repaired will take some time. Shall I send down a tug to tow you back to the city? And have a man from the shop attend to it? My own job will keep me from doing it myself, though I’d like to.”
“Thank you,” said Aunt Betty, and, for a moment, said nothing more. But she looked from one to another of the eager young faces about her and read but one desire on all. This was so evident that she smiled as she asked:
“Who thinks best to give up this trip? Or, rather, to go back and start over again—if we dare?”
Nobody spoke but a sort of groan ran around the little company.
“All in favor of going on, with some other sort of ‘power,’ or of anchoring the Water Lily at some pleasant point near shore and staying there, say ‘Aye’.”
So lusty a chorus of “Ayes” answered that Aunt Betty playfully covered her ears, till the clamor had subsided. Then a council of ways and means was held, in which everyone took part, and out of which the decision came:
That Cap’n Jack should rig up the sails which was another one of Mr. Blank’s provisions against just such a dilemma, and instruct the three lads how to use them; that when they didn’t want to sail they should use the poles; or using neither, should remain quietly at rest inthe most delightful spot they could find; that the Lily and its Pad should be fastened together in the strongest way, so that no more separation by wind or storm could be possible.
“The tender adds a great weight to your ‘power’ in such a case,” suggested Mr. Stinson. “Without it you could move much faster.”
“And without it, where could Ephy sleep and Chloe cook? The boys, too, will need their warm bunks if it happens to be cold,” said Dolly. “Besides—the kitchen is out there. Oh! we can’t possibly spare the tender.”
“Most house-boats get along without one,” explained the engineer.
“What about a horse, or a mule? I’ve seen such a thing somewhere, on some of our little trips with Mr. Bruce,” suggested the widow, then touched by her own reference to the dead relapsed into silence.
“Many of the little rivers of the Western Shore have banks as level as those of a canal,” said Mrs. Calvert. The idea had approved itself to her. “I’m afraid you lads would get very tired of the poling, even if the water was shallow enough. Without wind, sails wouldn’t help us; so Mrs. Bruce’s notion is the best one yet.”
“A mule would be nice and safe!” commented Mabel.
“First catch your mule,” cried Gerald.
“And who’d ride it?” asked Jim.
“You would,” promptly answered Melvin, laughing.
“Not all the time, sir!” retorted Jim, yet with an expression which showed he was really considering the subject. “Turn and turn about’s fair play.”
“All right. I’ll stand my turn and call it my ‘watch.’ I could fancy I was still on shipboard, don’t you know?”
“I’d do my third—if we didn’t keep it up all the time. A fellow wants a little chance to fish and have some fun,” added Gerald. Now that they had all been in danger together he was acting like the really fine lad he was and had dropped the silly affectations of his first manner.
Aurora, too, seemed more sensible, and, breakfast over, had shut herself in her tiny stateroom to put on the plainest frock she had. An approving smile from Mrs. Calvert greeted her reappearance and the girl began to think it wasn’t so bad after all have an old lady aboard.
“Really, Mabel, there doesn’t seem anything old about her except a few of her looks. I mean her white hair and some wrinkles. I guess it was all right she came, anyway.”
“It surely was all right. Why, what would any of us have done if she hadn’t been here? Mamma was scared worse than I was, even. You know she saw a person killed by lightning once and has never got over it. You’ll find, if you watch out, that Mrs. Calvert will help us have agood time, rather than spoil it; if—if—we don’t go back. I guess Mamma wishes we’d have to do that.”
Aurora did not answer, for just then the others were eagerly discussing the situation. They were to “up anchor,” run up the sails to catch the stiff breeze that was rising with the sun, and proceed down the coast as far as they could while the engineer remained, as he had agreed to do for a few hours longer, because of Mrs. Calvert’s earnest request.
“Get us safe into some snug harbor, please Mr. Stinson, and I will see that you lose nothing by the delay.”
“That is all right, Madam. I only wish I could join your cruise for all its length. I’m sure you’re bound to have a grand trip, despite the bad beginning—which should bring the proverbial good ending.”
“I wish you could. Oh! I do wish you could,” said Aunt Betty. She was somewhat surprised to find the engineer a man of culture, but was delighted by the fact. She felt that the presence of such a man would keep her three boys straight, for she was a little afraid of “pranks” should they indulge in any.
She had hoped, too, to make the most of their trip up and down the Severn, with which lovely river her earliest memories lingered. However, they were not to reach it yet. The friendly wind forsook them and both Cap’n Jack and Mr. Stinsonfelt that it would be wise to enter a little bay further north; and making their slow way between some islands come to anchor on the shores of the Magothy.
“The Maggotty! That’s where the best cantaloupes come from!” cried Mabel. “Who’ll buy my fine wattymillyouns, growed on de Maggotty, down in An’erunnel! Wattymillyouns! Cant-e-lopes! Oh! I want one this minute!”
“What a dreadful name for a river! Who’d eat melons full of maggots!” demanded Aurora, with a little shiver. Evidently, though she must often have heard them, she had paid scant attention to the cries of the negro hucksters through her own city’s streets.
“It isn’t ‘Maggotty’ but ‘Magothy’,” explained Dorothy. “I used to think just as you do until I learned better. I’m bad as Mabel. I just can’t wait. I must have a ‘cantaloupe’ for supper, I must! Scooped out and filled with ice—sweet andjuicy——”
“Hold on! Hold on! Wait till I fetch it!” returned Gerald, with a smack of his own lips. Then leaving the others to follow as they chose he ran to the stern of the tender which the men had brought close to a grassy bank, and leaped ashore.
“Wheah’s he gwine at?” demanded Ephraim, who had been in the way and unceremoniously pushed aside.
“Wattymillyouns!” yelled Jim, following the other boy’s lead.
“Wattymillyouns? Wat-ty-mill-youns? My hea’t o’ grace! I’se done gwine get some fo’ my Miss Betty!”
“For yo’se’f you-all means, yo’ po’ triflin’ ornery ole niggah! Ain’t it de trufe?” laughed Chloe, coming to the old man’s side, and laying a restraining hand upon his shoulder, while all her white teeth showed in a wide grin.
Safely anchored, the engineer gone, the old Captain bustling about on the roof of the boat, making all snug and shipshape for the coming night, every heart was light. None more so than those of the colored folks, always in the habit of leaving care to “their white” friends and like children in their readiness to forget the past.
Ephraim didn’t leap the plank, his “roomaticals” prevented; but he displayed a marvelous agility in getting ashore and speed in following the vanishing lads.
“What’s up?” demanded Melvin, running to where Chloe stood, holding her sides and shaking with laughter, “where have they gone?”
“Maggotty millyouns! Spyed a millyoun patch ovah yondah an’—Lan’ ob Goshen! If he ain’ done gwine, too! Well, my sake! Mebbe Chloe doan’ lub millyouns same’s anuddah, mebbe!”
As Melvin disappeared over the side, his own mouth watering for the southern delicacies sorare to his own northern home, mistress Chloe gathered up her petticoats and sprang ashore.
Little Methuselah called after her but she did not pause. She meant to get her own share from that distant melon-patch, and her maternal ears were deaf to his outcries.
Sharing the common feeling of repose and safety which had fallen upon all the company when the Water Lily had been tied up for the night, Metty had felt it a fine time to don his livery and show off his finery before the white folks. Clad in its loose misfit, but proud as ever, he clung to the stern-rail of the Pad and gazed after his departing parent.
What had happened? Why were all those people running away so fast? Was another frightful tempest coming?
“Mammy! Mam-my! Lemme! Lemme come! Mammy, Mammy, wait—I’se com——”
A point on the water side of the Pad commanded a better view of the fleeing figures, climbing the gentle rise of ground beyond. Thither the little fellow rushed; gave one glance downward into the water and another upon his gorgeous attire; then upward and onward where a fold of scarlet calico fluttered like a signal; shut his great eyes, and leaped.
Alas! The fat little legs couldn’t compass that space! and Methuselah Bonaparte Washington Brown sank beneath the waves his own impact had created.
The five melon-hungry deserters from the Water Lily came breathlessly to the “snake” rail-fence which bordered the “patch” and paused with what Gerald called “neatness and dispatch.”
Suddenly there rose from behind the fence a curious figure to confront them. Two figures, in fact, a man’s and a mule’s. Both were of a dusty brown color, both were solemn in expression, and so like one another in length of countenance that Melvin giggled and nudged Jim, declaring under his breath:
“Look like brothers, don’t you know?”
Ephraim was the first to recover composure as, removing his hat, he explained:
“We-all’s trabellers an’ jes’ natchally stopped to enquiah has yo’ wattymillyouns fo’ sale.”
Chloe sniggered at the old man’s deft turn of the matter, for she knew perfectly well that the idea of buying the melons hadn’t entered his mind until that moment. He was an honest creature in general, but no southern negro considers it a crime to steal a water-melon—until he is caught at it!
The air with which Ephy bowed and scraped sent the boys into roars of laughter but didn’t in the least lessen the gloom of the farmer’s face. At last he opened his lips, closed them, reopened them and answered:
“Ye-es. I have. But—I cayn’t sell ’em. They ain’t never no sale formytruck. Is they, Billy?”
The mournfulness of his voice was absurd. As absurd as to call the solemn-visaged mule by the frivolous name of “Billy.” Evidently the animal understood human speech, for in response to his owner’s appeal the creature opened his own great jaws in a prodigious bray. Whereupon the farmer nodded, gravely, as if to say:
“You see. Billy knows.”
“How much yo’ tax ’em at?” asked Chloe, gazing over the fence with longing eyes and mentally selecting the ripest and juiciest of the fruit.
“I ain’t taxin’ ’em. I leave it to you.”
Then he immediately sat down upon the rock beside the fence where he had been “resting” for most of that afternoon, or “evenin’” as he called it. Billy doubled himself up and sprawled on the ground near his master, to the injury of the vines and one especially big melon.
“O, suh!Doan’let him squush it!” begged Chloe; while Ephraim turned upon her with a reproving:
“You-all min’ yo’ place!Ah’m ’tendin’ to dis yeah business.”
“Va’y well. Jes’ gimme mah millyoun ter totehome to Miss Betty. Ah mus’ ha’ left mah pocket-book behin’ me!” she jeered. Then, before they knew what she was about, she had sprung over the fence and picked up the melon she had all along selected as her own.
Nobody interfered, not even the somber owner of the patch; and with amazing lightness Chloe scrambled back again, the great melon held in the skirt of her red gown, and was off down the slope at the top of her speed.
Ephraim put on his “specs” and gravely stared after her; then shook his head, saying:
“Dat yeah gell’s de flightiest evah! Ain’t it de trufe?”
But now a new idea had come to Jim, and laying a hand on the collars of the other lads, he brought their heads into whispering nearness of his own:
“Say, fellows,let’s buy Billy! A mule that understands English is the mule to draw the Water Lily!”
A pause, while the notion was considered, then Melvin exclaimed:
“Good enough! If he doesn’t ask too much. Try him!”
“Yes, ask him. I’ll contribute a fiver, myself,” added Gerald.
Ephraim had now struggled over the fence and was pottering about among the melons, with the eye of a connoisseur selecting and laying aside a dozen of the choicest. Those which were not alreadyblack of stem he passed by as worthless, as he did those which did not yield a peculiar softness to the pressure of his thumb. His face fairly glittered and his “roomaticals” were wholly forgotten; till his attention was suddenly arrested by the word “money,” spoken by one of the boys beyond the fence. At that he stood up, put his hands on his hips, and groaned; then keenly listened to what was being said.
“Ye-es. Imightwant to sell Billy, but I cayn’t. I cayn’t never sell anything.”
“Well, we’re looking for a mule, a likely mule. One strong enough to haul a house-boat. Billy’s pretty big; looks as if he could.”
“Billy can do anything he’s asked to. Cayn’t you, Billy?”
It was funny to see the clever beast rise slowly to his feet, shake the dust from his great frame, turn his sorrowful gaze upon his master’s face, and utter his assenting bray.
Melvin flung himself on the grass and laughed till his sides ached; then sprang up again wild with eagerness to possess such a comical creature:
“Oh! Buy him—buy him—no matter the price! He’d be the life of the whole trip! I’ll give something, too, as much as I can spare!”
Jim tried to keep his face straight as he inquired:
“What is the price of Billy, sir?”
The farmer sighed, so long and deeply, thatthe mule lay down again as if pondering the matter.
“Young man, that there Billy-mule is beyond price. There ain’t another like him, neither along the Magothy nor on the Eastern Sho’. I cayn’t sell Billy.”
During his life upon the mountains James Barlow had seen something of “horse-traders” and he surmised that he had such an one to deal with now. He expected that the man would name a price, after a time, much higher than he really would accept, and the boy was ready for a “dicker.” He meant to show the other lads how clever and astute he could be. So he now returned:
“Oh, yes. I think you can if you get your price. Everything has its price, I’ve read somewhere—even mules!”
“Young man, life ain’t no merry jest. I’ve found that out and so’ll you.I cayn’t sell Billy.”
“Ten dollars?”
No reply, but the man sat down again beside his priceless mule and reopened the old book he had been reading when interrupted by these visitors.
“Fifteen?”
“Twenty?” volunteered Gerald.
“Twenty-five?” asked Melvin. Then in an aside to the other boys: “I wonder if Dorothy will help pay for him!”
“Sure. This is her racket, isn’t it? It was Mrs. Calvert, or somebody, said we could be towed along shore, as if the Lily were a canal-boat.Sure! We’ll be doing her a kindness if we buy it for her and save her all the trouble of looking for one;” argued Gerald, who had but a small stock of money and wasn’t eager to spend it.
Jim cast one look of scorn upon him, then returned to his “dickering.” He had so little cash of his own that he couldn’t assume payment, but he reasoned that, after he had written an account of their predicament to Mr. Winters, the generous donor of the Lily would see that she was equipped with the necessary “power,” even if that power lay in the muscles of a gigantic mule.
“Oh! sir, please think it over. Hark, I’ll tell you the whole story, then I’m sure you’ll want to help a lady—several ladies—out of a scrape,” argued Jim, with such a persuasive manner that Melvin was astonished. This didn’t seem at all like the rather close-tongued student he had known before.
But the truth was that Jim had become infatuated with the idea of owning at least a share in Billy. He was used to mules. He had handled and lived among them during his days upon Mrs. Stott’s truck-farm. He was sure that the animal could be made useful in many ways and—in short, he wanted, he must have Billy!
In a very few moments he had told the whole tale of the house-boat and its misfortunes, laying great stress upon the “quality” of its owners, and thus shrewdly appealing to the chivalry of this southern gentleman who was playing at farming.
For a time his only apparent listener was old Ephraim, who had picked up a hoe somewhere and now leaned upon it, resting from his selection of the melons. But, though he didn’t interfere with the glib narrative, he confirmed it by nods of his gray head, and an occasional “Dat’s so, Cunnel.”
Evidently, the farmer was impressed. He stopped pretending to read and folding his arms, leaned back against the rails, his eyes closed, an expression of patient, sad endurance upon his long face. His manner said as plainly as words:
“If this young gabblerwilltalk I suppose I must listen.”
But gradually this manner changed. His eyes opened. The book slid to the ground. In spite of his own unwillingness he was interested. A house-boat! He’d never heard of such a thing; but, if the tale were true, it would be something new to see. Besides, ladies in distress? That was an appeal no gentleman could deny, even though that gentleman were as poor as himself. He might well have added “as shiftless;” for another man in his position would have been stirring himself to get that fine crop of melons into market.
Jim finished his recital with the eager inquiry:
“Now, sir, don’t you think you can sell Billy and put a reasonable price on him?”
The lad rose to his feet as he asked this and the man slowly followed his example. Then laying his hand on heart he bowed, saying:
“I cayn’t sell Billy. I give you my word. But, a southern planter is never beyond the power, sir, to bestow a gift. Kindly convey said Billy to Miss Calvert with the compliments of Colonel Judah Dillingham of T. Yonder are the bars. They are down. They are always down. So are my fortunes. Billy, old friend, farewell.”
This strange gentleman then solemnly reseated himself and again picked up his book. A deeper gloom than ever had settled upon him and a sigh that was almost a sob shook him from head to foot.
Billy, also, slowly and stiffly rose, regarded the reader with what seemed like grieved amazement and dismally brayed. There was an old harness upon him, half-leather, half-rope, with a few wisps of corn-husk, and without delay Jim laid his hand on the bit-ring and started away.