Certainly the sun was very hot that day. The fishers on the island found it so, notwithstanding that they had sought out every one for himself the shadiest, freshest nook that could be found. Nothing was fresh; and if the trees did hinder the sunshine from falling on some parts of the ground, they kept off none of it from the water; and the glare from that was said to be unendurable. Even where there was not much glare strictly speaking; people were not particular in their speech that day. At last they voted that holding lines in the water was of no use; fish could not be expected to leave their cool depths below to seek the sunny regions near the surface of the water; "they would be fools if they did," one of the ladies remarked. Fish never were supposed to be very wise creatures, Mr. Sandford informed her; but nevertheless, it was resolved not to reckon upon their want of wisdom at this time, but to put up and go back to shore, and try what cold chicken would do. So just about the hour when the sun's work for the day verges towards the hottest, the little boat was seen again stealing over the sunny surface of the lake, back to where the tablecloth lay spread for the tired people.
A little while before it reached that place, Dr. Sandford arrived upon the scene. He locked a little warm in the face; but his white shooting coat did not seem less affected by the state of the weather than the doctor's temper. Mrs. Gary and Mrs. Fish he found sunk in somnolency at the foot of the tree where they had been talking. The young ladies were sitting by the emptied hampers, deep in confab. The boys and Fido, over against the outspread feast, were arranging fishing tackle, and watching the return of the boat; with eyes of anticipation. To them came the doctor.
"Where is your sister, Ransom?"
"I don't know." The tone meant, I don't care.
"I do not see her anywhere."
"No more do I," said Ransom, without raising his eyes from his fishing line.
"Where is she?"
"I told you, I don't know."
"Did she go with the fishing party?"
"No sir; she was here when we came," Alexander Fish spoke up.
"Yes, I remember she was here," said Preston. "I remember seeing her. She cannot be far off. It's hot enough to keep people from straying far."
The doctor, being not absolutely satisfied with this reasoning, and having nothing better to do, occupied himself with a search after the missing Daisy. It lasted some time, and he was beginning to be not quite easy in his mind; when, being a sportsman, his eye detected something at a distance which was not moss nor stone. In two minutes the doctor came up with it. It was Daisy, fast asleep on her moss bed behind the rock. Her head lay on her arm which was curled up under it; and profound slumber had left the little pale face as serene as usual. The doctor was warm by this time. He sat down on the moss beside her; and putting his arm under Daisy's shoulders lifted her up, by way of waking her, speaking to her at the same moment. But to his amusement, Daisy no sooner got her eyes well open than she shook herself free of him, and sat as demure as possible opposite to him on the moss.
"Dr. Sandford!—I believe—I got asleep," she said in a bewildered kind of way.
"How did you gethere, Daisy?"
"I came here, sir."
"What for did you come here?"
Daisy looked troubled; glanced at the doctors face, and then rested her head on her hand.
"Who has been vexing you now?" said he at haphazard.
"I am not vexed," said Daisy in the gentlest of all possible tones.
"Tired?"
"I think I am tired."
"Honour bright, Daisy!—has not some one been vexing you?"
"I ought not to have been vexed," said Daisy slowly.
"I will wager that you are wrong there, and that you ought to have been vexed. Who was it, Daisy?"
"Never mind, please, Dr. Sandford! It is no matter at all now."
She put her little hand confidingly in the doctor's as she spoke and looked very earnest. He could not resist her.
"I wish I had come sooner," he said. "I shall be suspicious of everybody, Daisy. Come—you and I must go to dinner, or there will be a hue and cry after us."
Indeed by this time the whole party were gathered, and in impatient expectation that the dinner would make up to them in some degree for the various disappointments of the morning. All were gathered and had arranged themselves conveniently upon the grass, around the feast which was spread out upon the tablecloth, before anybody knew that two of their number were wanting. The cry was just raised, "Where is the doctor?"—when the doctor hove in sight with Daisy by his side. Everybody was placed already; and it was very natural that the doctor keeping hold of Daisy's hand, led her with him to the spot that seemed to be left for his occupancy, and seated her there beside him. On the other side of Daisy was Mrs. Stanfield. She was very well satisfied with this arrangement, seeing that her father was surrounded by people and busy besides; and that Nora and Ella were with Alexander and Ransom.
What a gay tableful they were! all talking and laughing, though everybody declared himself exceeded by the heat and bored by the fishing, and generally tired of everything but eating and drinking. But iced champagne was now at the parched lips, and boned turkey and jellied ham were waiting attention, and a good time had come. It was some while, of course, before Daisy could be served. She waited, feeling very happy and amused; for a party of people taking a cold dinner out of doors do not look nor act exactly like the same people taking a hot dinner in the house. Daisy never dreamed that anybody was noticingher. She had a disagreeable surprise.
"Daisy," said Mrs. Randolph from a little distance, and across several people,—"Daisy, what did you do that for?"
"Mamma!"—said Daisy. "What, mamma?"
"Have you a headache?"
"O no, mamma."
"What did you put up your hand to your brow for?"
"Mamma?"—said Daisy, very much bewildered. For she knew nothing was the matter, and she could not guess what her mother was thinking of. Moreover, somehow, Mrs. Randolph's words or manner had acted to stop the voices of all the company in her neighbourhood; and everybody was waiting and looking to see what the subject of interest might be. Mrs. Randolph's words could come now with their usual calm distinctness; and Daisy's answers, no matter how softly spoken, could be well heard. In a good deal of wonder Daisy repeated, "Mamma?"
"You put up your hand and sat with your eyes covered—did you not, just now?"
"Yes, mamma."—No need to bid anybody look and listen now; the rosy flush that had spread itself all over Daisy's pale cheeks sufficiently aroused curiosity.
"I notice that you do so before every meal—is it not the case?"
"Yes, mamma."
Dr. Sandford could hear the caught breath. He did not look, except by a glance, but he listened.
"What does that mean, Daisy?"
"Mamma?"—said the child in distress.
"I ask you, what that means? what is it for?"
"Mamma—may I come round there and speak to you?"
"Certainly not. Sit still in your place and answer."
But Daisy was silent, very flushed.
"Do you hear, Daisy? what does that action mean? I wish to know."
"Mamma, may I speak to you in private and tell you?"
"Are you ashamed of it? are you ashamed to tell me?"
"No, mamma."
"Then do it at once."
But everybody waited in vain to hear the answer. It did not come.
"I shall not ask you again, Daisy."
"Mamma," said the child low and modestly, but with steadiness,—"I was praying."
"Praying! were you! Why do you choose that particular time for your private devotions?"
It was almost too much. The tears started in Daisy's eyes; but presently she answered,—"Because God is good to us, mamma."
"He is always good," said Mrs. Randolph. "That is a very silly practice of yours, Daisy, and very unbecoming. There is a proper way of doing everything."
The lady's manner said that the subject was dismissed, and her guests returned to their ordinary conversation. Except the doctor and Daisy. She was overwhelmed, and he was gravely unsocial.
Was it silly?—that bound her heart had made up to the feet of her King? That joyful thanksgiving, and expression of love, and pledge of obedience, and prayer for help? It was something better than the meal often to Daisy; something sweeter and happier. Was it silly? and must she do so no more except when she was alone?
Daisy had quite forgotten that eating and drinking was part of the present matter in hand, when Dr. Sandford softly asked her what she would like to have. Daisy said anything he pleased; not caring herself, and indeed in too much confusion of mind yet to know or think about the business. And her appetite was gone. Dr. Sandford provided for her with kind care, what she liked too; but nothing was good to Daisy. She broke bread and swallowed milk mechanically; the more substantial food she refused utterly. Bread and milk and grapes were Daisy's dinner.
"It's good to be somebody's favourite," Ransom said to her after the meal was over. "Nobody got any grapes but you."
"Nobody? Why Ransom, I thought everybody had them."
"Ididn't,—nor Preston, nor Alexander—not a berry; and Nora and Ella Stanfield didn't. You are the favourite."
"O Nora," said Daisy, "didn't you have any grapes? I'm sorry!"
"I had peaches," said Nora. "I like peaches a great deal the best.Daisy, what shall we do now?"
"Suppose we sit down and have a talk."
"A talk?" said Nora. "Suppose we have a game of hide and seek? It's such a good place."
"Or forfeits?" said Ella. "It is too hot to play hide and seek."
"I don't think it is hot," said Nora. "The sun don't shine now."
"Daisy, don't you want to go out with me in the boat?" said Preston coming up. "We'll get in the shade, and see if you can catch a pickerel as well as you did a trout."
"O I should like that!" said Daisy eagerly. She saw the kindness ofPreston's meaning. He wanted to make her forget her vexations.
"And may we go too?" Nora asked.
"Certainly; but Daisy and I are going to do the fishing. You must be content to look on. We will go round to the other side of the island, Daisy; it is pretty there, I know. And we shall have a better chance for the pickerel, for the sun is gone under a cloud."
So the sun had; but at that very moment the cloud passed off and the brilliant hot beams fell with what seemed renewed brilliancy on the lake, and on all the ground which they could touch.
"It will go under again," said Preston. "We do not mind trifles. Come,Daisy."
"Daisy, you must not go," said Dr. Sandford looking round. He was just moving away to see some one else, and was gone in a minute.
"The doctor is all very well when one is sick," said Preston; "but I never heard he had a right to command people when they are well. Daisy, we will not mind him."
"I must," said Daisy, meekly. "But you can go without me, if you want to."
"Nonsense, dear little Daisy! you are not obliged to do whateverybodysays," her cousin urged. "Dr. Sandford has no more business to say what you shall do than what I shall do. I will not let him rule you so. Come! we will go try for the pickerel. Go, Nora and Ella, run away with the baskets to the boat. Come, Daisy, come!"
"No, Preston, I cannot."
"Because of what that stupid man says? or don't you want to go!"
"I would like to go very much, thank you, Preston."
"Then you shall!"
"No. I cannot."
"Daisy, you might as well obey me as Dr. Sandford."
"I do not think so."
"Nora and Ella are going. You will be left alone."
"I hope you will catch some pickerel," said Daisy steadily.
But Preston was vexed. He did not like it that his word should not have as much weight with his little cousin as any other person's, after her father and mother. Like other boys, and men, for the most part, he was fond of having his own way even in little things; though he sought it in a polite fashion. And Daisy was very fond of him, and always followed his lead; but now he could not move her. He went off at a bound, and soon was out upon the water, with the girls and Alexander and Ransom also who had joined him.
Daisy would have liked the shelter of her mossy hiding-place again. She stood in the shade of a tree looking after the boat; feeling very much left alone and greatly disposed to have a good crying time; but that was not her way of meeting trouble. What a strange day of pleasure this Silver Lake business had turned out! Yet Daisy had enjoyed many things in it; but her mother's attack upon her at luncheon had sobered her completely. It was such a sign of what she might expect. Daisy presently fell to considering what she should do; and then remembered her old refuge, prayer; and then concluded that she was a very happy little girl after all. And instead of being hurt that Nora had been with her so little that day, it was very natural, Daisy said to herself. Of course, Nora wanted to go in the boat with Preston after fish; it was too good an opportunity to be lost; and of course she had liked to walk in the morning with the larger and gayer party. It was all right, Daisy decided, although not what she herself would have done in the circumstances. Would her note to her father have been reckoned "silly" too? Very likely. Daisy turned her wistful eyes to where he was; sitting in a group of ladies and gentlemen, talking. Daisy could not go to him. Further along, Mrs. Gary was fighting the heat under a tree by herself. No attraction there. Still further—the doctor was standing talking to the two young ladies. As Daisy looked, he quitted them and came towards her.
"Have I spoiled all your pleasure, Daisy?"
"No, sir."
"Are you angry with me?"
The answer this time was given with such an affectionate bright smile that the doctor must have been hard not to feel it.
"You do not seem to have much pleasure on hand just now," said he; "would you like to take a little walk with me, and see if we can find any wonderful things?"
Daisy's face was quite answer enough, it was so full of content. The doctor had no intention to tire her; be strolled along the borders of the lake, which was wild and lovely all the more as they got further away from the pic-nic ground. Firs and oaks stood thick all along, with many other trees also; the ground was carpeted with layers of moss; great rocks rose up by the water's edge, grey and brown with lichens. It was not so hot now. The sun's glare was shielded off. On a mossy carpet beside the water's edge the doctor and Daisy sat down. Undoubtedly the doctor had never taken so much trouble with a child before; but Daisy was a study to him.
"We do not find the wonderful things, Daisy," he remarked, throwing himself back upon the moss with his hands under his head. His cap fell off; his blue eyes looked at her with a sort of contented laziness; never sleepily. Daisy smiled at him.
"I do," she said.
"You do! What have you found!"
"I think everything is wonderful."
"A profound truth," said the doctor; "but you are very young to find it out. Instance, Daisy."
"But you want to go to sleep, sir."
"How dare you say so? No, I don't. I want to have a talk with you about something wonderful."
Daisy thought he looked a little sleepy, for his eyelids drooped well over his eyes; nevertheless the eyes saw keenly enough the start of pleasure into hers. And they had seen the pale, subdued look of the face that it had worn before. Nevertheless, in spite of that start, Daisy remained as quiet as a mouse, looking at him.
"Don't you think I can talk while I am enjoying myself in this fashion?" said the doctor.
"I think you can talk any way," said Daisy; "but youlooka great deal more like sleeping, sir."
"None of that. Go on, Daisy. Only do not say anything about the sun, now that it has gone under a cloud. Let us forget it for a little while."
"What shall I take, then?"
"I don't care. Something green and refreshing."
Daisy looked around her. On every side she saw things that she had no doubt would be very interesting to talk about; she did not know which to choose. There were the trees; the firs and hemlocks, and the oaks and maples, growing thick on every hand. No doubt those beautiful structures had uses and characters of wonder; she had a great mind to ask the doctor to tell her about them. But the great boulder beside which they were hid from view, divided her attention; it was very large, and rounded off on all sides, lying quietly on the ground; and Daisy was curious to know how it came to be so grown over with green things; mosses and ferns draped it all over; how could they grow on the bare rock?
"Well, Daisy?" said her friend, watching how Daisy's countenance woke up from its subdued expression.
"Dr. Sandford, how could these things grow on the rock? these green things?"
"What green things?"
"Why, ever so many sorts. Here is moss, a great deal of it, of different kinds; and there is beautiful brake at the top, like plumes of feathers. How can they grow there?"
"Why not?"
"I thought everything wanted some earth to grow in."
"Have they none?"
"I don't know. I thought not. They must have very little indeed, Dr.Sandford."
"Very little will do, I suppose."
"But I do not see howanyearth got there," said Daisy. "It was only a bare rock at first, of course."
"At first," repeated the doctor. "Well, Daisy, I suppose it was no more. But there is something else growing there, which you have not spoken of."
"Is there?" said Daisy. "I do not see anything else."
"Pardon me—you do see it."
"Then I do not know what it is," said Daisy laughing. Absolutely, the sober, sober little face had forgotten its care, and the eyes were alight with intelligence and curiosity, and the lips were unbent in good honest laughter. The doctor raised himself up to a sitting posture.
"What do you call those grey and brown patches of colour that hide your rock all over?"
"Grey and brown?" said Daisy wistfully—"those are just the colours of the rock, aren't they?"
"No. Look close."
"Why, Dr. Sandford, what is it? It is not the rock—some of it is not—but here is a spot of yellow that is nothing else, I think."
"You must learn not to trust your eyes, Daisy. That is something that grows; it is not rock; it is a vegetable. If I had my pocket lens here I would shew you; but I am afraid—yes, I have left it at home."
"Why it is!" cried Daisy. "I can see now—it isnotrock. What is it,Dr. Sandford?"
"Lichen."
"What is that, sir?"
"It is one of the lowest forms of vegetable life. It is the first dress the rocks wear, Daisy."
"But what does it live on?"
"Air and water, I suppose."
"I never knew that was a vegetable," said Daisy musingly. "I thought it was the colour of the rock."
"That goes to prepare soil for the mosses, Daisy."
"O how, Dr. Sandford?"
"In time the surface of the rock is crumbled a little by its action; then its own decay furnishes a very little addition to that. In favourable situations a stray oak leaf or two falls and lies there, and also decays, and by and by there is a little coating of soil or a little lodgment of it in a crevice or cavity, enough for the flying spores of some moss to take root and find home."
"And then the moss decays and makes soil for the ferns?"
"I suppose so."
Daisy stood looking with a countenance of delighted intelligence at the great boulder, which was now to her a representative and witness of natural processes she had had no knowledge of before. The mosses, the brakes, the lichen, had all gained new beauty and interest in her eyes. The doctor watched her and then scrambled up to his feet and came to her side.
"Look here, Daisy," said he, stooping down at the foot of the rock and shewing her where tufts of a delicate little green plant clustered, bearing little umbrella-like heads on tiny shafts of handles.
"What is that Dr. Sandford?"
"Something wonderful."
"Is it? It is pretty. What is it, sir?"
[Illustration]
"It is a plant somewhere between the mosses and the lichens in its character—it is one of the liverworts, and they are some of the first plants to go in advance of superior vegetation. This is calledMarchantia."
"And is it wonderful, Dr. Sandford?"
"If I could shew it to you, you would think so. Look here, Daisy—on the surface of this leaf do you see little raised spots here and there?"
"Yes, I see them."
"Those are, when they are finished, little baskets."
"Baskets?" exclaimed Daisy delightedly. "I can't see anything like a basket now."
"No, it is too small for you to see; you must take it on my word, who have seen it. They are baskets, and such baskets as you never dreamed of. The shape is elegant, and round the edge, Daisy, they are cut into a fringe of teeth, and each tooth is cut again into teeth, making a fringe arounditstiny edge."
"I wish I could see it," said Daisy.
"Now if you were my little sister, and lived with me, I could shew you these things in the evenings."
Daisy responded to this with a very grateful and somewhat wistful smile, but immediately went on with the business in hand.
"Do these little baskets hold anything, Dr. Sandford"
"Yes. Baskets are always made to hold something."
"What do they hold?"
"They hold what are calledspores; that is, little bits of things which, whenever they get a chance, begin to grow and make new plants."
"Seeds?" said Daisy.
"They answer the purpose of seeds."
"How do they get out of the basket? do the winds blow them out?"
"Or the rain washes them out. If they lie long enough in the basket, they will take root there, and then there is a new plant seen growing out of the old one."
"How wonderful it is!" said Daisy.
"There is another wonder about it. It does not matter which way these little spores lie on the ground or in the basket; but the side that happens to be exposed to the light, after a time, prepares itself to expand into the surface of a frond, while the dark side sends down a tiny root."
"And it does not matter which side lies uppermost?"
"No, not in the beginning."
"What is afrond, Dr. Sandford?"
"This sort of seed-bearing leaf is called so."
"How pretty it is!" said Daisy. "What are these little things like umbrellas?"
"These carry the real seed vessels of the plant."
"Other seeds. Dr. Sandford, iseverythingwonderful?"
"What do you think about it?"
"I do not know but a very little," said Daisy; "but I never should have thought this little green moss—or what did you say it was?"
"Liverwort. Its name is Marchantia."
"This liverwort; I never should have supposed it was anything but pretty, and of course good for something; but now I never heard anything so wonderful."
"More than the sun?" said Dr. Sandford smiling.
"It is more surprising, I think," said Daisy.
"Pray, what makes you conclude so securely that this little Marchantia isgood for something?"
Daisy gave him a quick look of wisdom and suspicion mingled. The doctor was getting a very good amusement himself, and quite entered into the matter. He waited for Daisy's answer. It came diplomatically.
"Isn'teverything good for something, sir?"
"'Pon my word, I don't know," said the doctor. "My enquiry was for the grounds of your opinion, Daisy."
"It was not an opinion. I do not think I am old enough to have an opinion."
"What was it, Daisy?"
The doctor was still crouching down by the side of the rock examining carelessly whatever he found there. Daisy looked at him and waited, and felt at last that good manners required her to speak.
"You said, sir, that baskets were made to hold something."
"So your remark was an inference from mine?"
"No, sir."
"Go on, Daisy."
"I only said it, sir, because I knew it was true."
There was an odd contrast between the extreme modesty of Daisy's manner and the positiveness of her words.
"It is said to be a great philosophical truth, Daisy; but what I want to know is how you, not being a philosopher, have got such firm hold of it?"
He faced Daisy now, and she gave way as usual before the searching blue eyes. One soft look, and her eyes fell away.
"I only thought it. Dr. Sandford, because in the beginning—when God had made everything—the Bible says he saw that it was all good."
"Daisy, how came you to be such a lover of the Bible?"
Daisy did not speak at once, and when she did it was a departure from the subject.
"Dr. Sandford, I felt a drop of rain on my face!"
"And here is another," said the doctor getting up. "This is what I have expected all day. Come, Daisy—you must be off in your chaise-à -porteurs without delay."
"But Nora, and Ella, and the boys!—they are away off on the lake."
"They will scuttle home now," said the doctor, "but I have nothing to do with them. You are my business, Daisy."
Accordingly he carried her back to the lunching place, not indeed in his arms, but with a strong hand that made her progress over the stones and moss very rapid, and that gave her a great flying leap whenever occasion was, over any obstacle that happened to be in the way. There was need enough for haste. The light veil of haze that had seemed to curtain off the sunlight so happily from the lake and the party, proved now to have been only the advancing soft border of an immense thick cloud coming up from the west. No light veil now; a deep, dark covering was over the face of the sky, without break or fold; the drop or two of rain that had been felt were merely the outriders of an approaching storm. Low threatening, distant mutterings of thunder from behind the mountains, told the party what they might expect before long.
There was sudden confusion. Nobody wanted to be out in the storm, and to avoid it seemed a difficult problem. Hastily the ladies caught up their scarfs and bags, and set off upon a scattering flight through the woods to the shore, those who were nearest or first ready not stopping to wait for the others. Quickly the luncheon ground was deserted; fast the blue and white flutter of muslins disappeared in the enveloping woods; hastily the remainder of the packing went on to get the hampers again in readiness to move. In the midst of all this, who was to carry Daisy's chair?
"You say there is a house somewhere on the way," said Mr. Randolph to the doctor. "If you will go forward with Daisy at once, I will stay to look after those children in the boat. They are coming now as fast as they can."
"Can you carry my gun?"
"Certainly. Doctor, I will take that office, if you will stay behind till the boat gets to land."
"Thank you—it is better arranged the other way. The storm will be upon us before the ladies get to the shore, I fear."
"Then they had better take the other route."
Mr. Randolph in haste despatched one of the men to recall the fleeing members of the party, and bring them, round by the other road to the house. But before that, the doctor had put Daisy in her chair, and with Logan at the other end of it had set off to reach shelter. It grew very dark; and it was sultrily still in the woods. Not a leaf trembled on its stem. The steps of the two chair-bearers sounded ominously in the entire hush of everything. The gloom still deepened. The doctor and Logan with swift, steady strides carried the chair along at a goodly rate; not as it had come in the morning. In the midst of this, and after it had gone on some time in silence, Daisy twisted herself round to look at the doctor and give him a smile.
"You do not seem concerned, Daisy, in the view of getting wet?"
"Why no," said Daisy twisting round, again, "it is nice. I am only sorry for the people who are so frightened."
"What is nice? getting wet?"
"O no," said Daisy. "Maybe I shall not get wet—you go so fast."
But at this moment there came a nearer growl of thunder, and the leaves in the tops of the trees rustled as if a breath had passed over them. Then were still.
"Can you mend your pace, Logan?" said the doctor.
"Ay, sir!"—came in the deep, cheery utterance of Logan's Scotch voice.
"Hold fast, Daisy"—said the doctor; and the two chair-bearers changed their pace for a swinging trot. It was needful to hold on now indeed, for this gait jolted the chair a good deal; but it got over the ground, and Daisy found it excessively amusing. They passed the thick-standing tree stems in quick succession now; the rocks uprising from the side of the path were left behind one after another; they reached the sharp bend in the road; and keeping up the swinging trot with a steadiness which shewed good wind on the part of both the chair-bearers, at last the little house where Sam had been left hove in view. Time it was; full time. One and another sough of the wind had bowed the tree-tops with a token of what was coming; one and another bright flash of lightning had illumined the woody wilderness; and now just as the chair stopped, drops began to fall which seemed as large as cherry-stones, mingled with hail a good deal larger. Their patter sounded on the leaves a minute or two; then ceased.
"That will do, Logan," said the doctor. "Bring the chair in under shelter if you can; and come in yourself. This will be a shower." And he led Daisy into the house.
If ever you saw a dark-looking place, that was the room into which the house door admitted them. Two little windows seemed at this instant to let in the darkness rather than the light; they were not very clean, besides being small. A description which Daisy would have said applied to the whole room. She stood still in the middle of the floor, not seeing any place to sit down, that she could make up her mind to take. The doctor went to the window. Logan took a chair. Sam was sitting disconsolately in a corner. It was hard to say to what class of people the house belonged; poor people they were of course; and things looked as if they were simply living there because too poor to live anywhere else. A slatternly woman stared at the intruders; a dirty child crawled over the hearth. Daisy could not endure to touch anything, except with the soles of her shoes. So she stood upright in the middle of the floor; till the doctor turned round.
"Daisy!—are you going to stand there till the shower is over?"
"Yes, sir,"—Daisy answered patiently. A smile curled the doctor's lips. He opened the door and lifted in the chair with its long poles, which indeed half filled the little room; but Daisy sat down. The woman looked on in astonishment.
"Be she weakly, like?" she asked at length of the doctor.
"Has been—" he answered.
"And what be that thing for?"
"It is for going up and down mountains."
"Have you come from the mountings!" she asked in great surprise. The doctor was in for it. He was obliged to explain. Meanwhile the darkness continued and the rain did not yet fall. A breath of wind now and then brushed heavily past the house, and sunk into silence. The minutes passed.
"It will be a happiness if they get here before it begins," said Dr.Sandford; "it will come when it comes!"
"Be theremorecomin'?" said the woman.
"A houseful. We are only the beginning."
She moved about now with somewhat of anxiety to get sundry things out of the way, which yet there seemed no other place for; a frying pan was set up in a corner; a broom took position by the fire place; a pail of water was lifted on the table; and divers knives and forks and platters hustled into a chimney cupboard. Little room enough when all was done. At last the woman caught up the sprawling baby and sat down with it opposite the broom, on the other side the fire, in one of the three chairs the place contained. Sam had another. Logan was on a box. The woman's eyes said, "Now I am ready to see all that comes."
It was some time first, and the rain still did not fall. It was very black, and flashes from distant lightning with mutterings of the thunder were frequent and threatening; still no rain unless a few ominous drops. At last voices and fluttering muslins came down the road; the flutter came near, and in poured a stream of gay people at the door of the poor little room. Gay as to their dress and attire, that is; for gayety was not to be found at present in their words and behaviour. The woman in the chimney corner hugged up closer her dirty baby with the delight of so unwonted a feast to her eyes.
"Is there nothing better thanthisto be had?" said Mrs. Fish. And her tone was indescribable.
"How long have we got to remain here, doctor?" said a more cheery voice.
"Mrs. Stanfield, until the rain has come, and gone."
"It would be better to be out in it," whispered Theresa to her mother.
"My love, there is no other shelter on this side the river."
"There will not be standing room for us all presently—" said EloïseGary.
Pretty nearly so; for when the second detachment of the party arrived, in a minute more, people looked at each other across a throng of heads. They got in; that was all. To sit down or to move much was out of the question.
"Daisy, you can't have this big chair of yours in here," said Ransom in an energetic whisper. "Don't you see there is no room for it?"
Daisy saw there was very little. She got up patiently and stood, though feeling very tired; while her chair was got out of the door with a good deal of difficulty.
"Are you tired, my darling?" said her father bending down to the pale little face.
"A little, papa," said Daisy sighing.
No more words, but Mr. Randolph lifted Daisy in his arms and gave her a resting place there. Daisy was afraid she was too heavy for him, but it was very comfortable to sit there, with her arm on his shoulder. Her face looked its content; the only face in which such an expression could be seen at present; though the gentlemen took the thing coolly, and Mr. Randolph and the two Sandfords looked as usual. But now the delayed storm drew near. The thunder notified with every burst the fact that it was coming speedily; the lightning became vivid and constant. A premonitory sweep of the wind—and the clouds gave out their treasures of rain and hail with tremendous fury. The lightning was terrible now, and the darkness of the intervals between so great that the company could scarcely see each other's faces. This was more than some of the party had bargained for, and there was a degree of confusion. Screams from a few of the ladies and exclamations of terror from others were mixed now and then with words that sounded very like an oath to Daisy's ear, though they were not spoken in levity. She bent her head round to look in the face of the lady who had last used them, as if to assure herself what was meant; and then her head went down on Mr. Randolph's shoulder and her face was hidden.
"Daisy—" whispered her father.
"Yes, papa."
"Are you afraid?"
"No, papa—not for myself."
"What? Look up here, Daisy."
She lifted her face; it was wistful and troubled.
"Are you concerned about the storm, my darling?"
"No, papa; not myself."
"How then, Daisy?"
She shuddered. "Papa, I wish they would not scream so!"
"Why does that troubleyou?" said Mr. Randolph smiling.
But Daisy's face was unutterably grave, as a new brilliant band of forked lightning glittered outside the windows, and the burst of the thunderbolt sounded as if at their very feet, making a renewal of the same cries and exclamations.
"Why does it trouble you, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph soothingly, feeling the quiver of the child's frame.
"Papa," said Daisy with intense expression,—"they do not love Jesus!"—And her head went down again to be hid on her father's shoulder.
Mr. Randolph did nothing to bring it up again; and Daisy lay quite still, while the storm raged in full fury, and the screams and ejaculations of the ladies were joined now and then by a word of impatience from one of the gentlemen, or a "Hech, sirs!" in Logan's smothered Scotch brogue. Once Mr. Randolph felt Daisy's lips pressed against his face, and then her other arm came round his neck and nestling there closely she was after that as still as a mouse. The storm lasted a long time. The lightning and thunder at last removed their violence some distance off; then the wind and the rain did their part, which they had not fully done before. And all the while the poor party of pleasure sat or stood as thick as bees in a hive, in the miserable shelter of the cottage. Miserable yet welcome. Very tired and impatient the people became as they grew less frightened. Daisy had long been fast asleep. The day waned and drew near its ending. When sunset was, nobody could tell by the light; but that night was at hand was at last evident from the darkness.
"Your arms must be weary, Mr. Randolph," said Dr. Sandford. "Let me relieve you of your burden."
"I cannot let you do that."
"I will," said the doctor. "Daisy being my charge as well as yours, gives me a right." And the transfer was actually made before Daisy was aware of it. She waked up however, with a feeling of some change and a doubt upon her mind as to what custody she was in; but she was not sure, till the woman of the house lit a miserable dip candle, which threw a light that mocked the darkness over the weary company. Daisy did not like the arrangement at all.
"Dr. Sandford!" she exclaimed. "I shall tire you. Please put me on the floor and let me stand."
"No—you cannot," said the doctor decidedly. "Be a good child, Daisy.Lay your head down and go to sleep again."
And greatly to Daisy's astonishment the doctor's moustache brushed her lip. Now Daisy had always thought to herself that she would never allow anybody that wore a moustache to kiss her; here it was done, without leave asked; and if the doctor was so independent of rules as that, she thought she had best not provoke him. Besides, she remembered that her father must be tired with carrying her so long; and moreover, if Dr. Sandford liked her well enough to kiss her, maybe he would not care for the trouble of holding her for a while. At any rate Daisy submitted peaceably to the necessity; put her arm over the doctor's shoulder to support herself and laid her head down; though not to sleep. She watched everything that was going on now. What a roomful of weary and impatient people they were! packed like cattle in a pen, for closeness; and how the rain poured and beat outside the house! The shelter was something to be thankful for, and yet how unthankful everybody looked. Some of the gentlemen shewed calm fortitude under their trials; but the poor ladies' chagrined faces said that days of pleasure were misnamed. Alexander Fish had gone to sleep; Ransom looked cross; Preston as usual gentlemanly, though bored. From one to another Daisy's eye roved. Nora and Ella were sitting on the table; in full confab. Other people were sitting there too; the table was full.
"The storm is slackening—" Mr. Randolph remarked to the doctor.
"It will be over in a little while more."
"What do you think of it, Daisy?" said her father noticing her look.
"Of what, papa?"
"Parties of pleasure in general."
"Papa,—I have had a very nice time."
"You have had a nice sleep," said her father laughing; "and that colours your views of things. The rest of us have not had that advantage."
"Daisy, I am surprised to hear you say what you do," the doctor remarked as Mr. Randolph turned away. He spoke softly.
"Why, sir?"
"I thought your day had not been altogether agreeable?"
"Do you think anything is apt to bealtogetheragreeable, Dr. Sandford?" Daisy said, with a demure waiving of the subject which was worthy of much older years. The quaintness of this remark was infinite.
"What has been the agreeableness to-day, for instance?"
"O, a great deal; my ride in the chair,—that was nice! and allourwalk, and what you were telling me; and coming over the river—" Daisy paused.
"And what do you think of being carried in the arms of gentlemen," said Mrs. Gary, who had overheard a few words,—"while other little girls have to get along as they can? as tired as you are, I dare say."
"I cannot help it, aunt Gary," said Daisy. But the remark served to justify her view of things; for what had in truth been altogether agreeable up to that minute was so no longer. Daisy was uneasy.
"Dr. Sandford," she whispered after a few moments,—"I am rested—I can stand now. I am tiring you. Please set me down."
"No. Be quiet, Daisy," said her friend peremptorily. And as the little head went down again obediently on his shoulder, he gave again a gentle kiss to her lips. Daisy did not mind Mrs. Gary after that.
The storm slackened off now rapidly. The patter of the rain lessened and grew still; a sweet reviving air blew in at the windows. Of course the road was drenched with wet and every tree dripping; nevertheless the journey must be made to the boats, and the poor ladies were even glad to set out to undertake it. But it would not be an easy journey either, on the whole. Some time before this the doctor had despatched Logan on an errand. He now declared he must wait for his return; and desired Mr. Randolph to go forward and help take care of the rest of the party and have no concern about Daisy; he would keep her in charge.
"Shall I do that, Daisy?" said Mr. Randolph, fearing it might trouble her. But Daisy said, "Yes, papa"—with no hesitation; and the plan was acted upon. Gathering up their floating muslin dresses, tying handkerchiefs over their heads, with shrinking and yet eager steps, one by one they filed out at the door of the little hut. Just as the last one went, Logan came; he had been to the boats and brought thence the doctor's cloak, which, with more providence than the rest of the party who were less used to travelling, he had taken the precaution to bring. Now this, by the doctor's order, was spread over Daisy's chair, which having been pushed out of doors, had got wet; she was placed in it then, and the folds of the cloak brought well round and over her, so that nothing could be more secure than she was from the wet with which every leaf and bough was dripping overhead, and every foot of soil loaded underneath. Dr. Sandford took one end of the poles and Logan the other, and the last of the party they set forth. Why Dr. Sandford had made this arrangement, was best known to himself. Perhaps he preferred it to having Mrs. Fish on his arm, who was a very fine lady; perhaps he preferred it to the attentions he might have had to pay to the younger damsels of the party, who would all three have been on his hands at once, very likely. At all events he did prefer to be one of the chair-bearers, and Daisy was very glad of it.
The rest of the party were well in advance, out of sight and hearing. Tramp, tramp, the steady regular footfall of her bearers, and the light plashing of rain drops as they fell, and the stir of the wind in the leaves, were all the sounds that Daisy heard. No rain fell now; on the contrary the heaven was clear as a bell, and light enough came through the woods to shew the way with comfortable certainty. Overhead the stars were shining down with wonderful brilliancy, through the air which the storm had cleansed from all vapours; the moon was coming up somewhere, too. The smell of the trees and other green things was exceedingly sweet after the rain; and the delicious soft air was very delicious after the sultry day. Never in her life after did Daisy forget that night's work. This ride from the cottage to the shore was something she enjoyed with all her might. It was so wild and strange as well as sweet. Rocks and tree trunks, and the turnings of the road had all such a mysterious new look, different from what daylight shewed them; it was an endless pleasure. Till the walk ended. It came out at last upon the shore of the river and into the moonlight. High in the eastern sky the moon hung, shedding her broad light down all over the river which crisped and sparkled under it; and there by the water's edge the members of the party of pleasure were huddled together preparing to embark. Over their heads the sails of Mr. Randolph's boat stood up in the moonlight. The doctor and Logan set down their burden and waited. The Fish's were getting on board their little vessel, which was moved by oars alone.
"Mrs. Stanfield, you had better come with us," Mr. Randolph said. "There is plenty of room. Your boat is too small. You would find it unpleasantly rough in mid-channel."
"O, is it rough?" exclaimed the lady.
"For your little row-boat—I am afraid you would find it so. The wind has roughened the water considerably, and it has not had time to get quiet. Come with us, and we will all take supper together at Melbourne."
It was arranged so. The party were stowed away in the large sail-boat, which held them all well enough; the children being happy at finding themselves seated together.
"What are we waiting for?" said Mrs. Gary when all had been in their places some minutes, and conversation was the only thing moving. "What are we staying here for?"
"Sam."
"Where's Sam?"
"He is yonder—in our late place of shelter. James and Michael have gone to fetch him with Daisy's chair."
"Sam! Why, he might have stayed there till to-morrow and no hurt. Have we got to wait till the men go there and bring him back? We shall be late at supper!"
"The river will be all the quieter, Mrs. Gary," said Mr. Randolph mischievously.
"The river? You don't mean to say it is not quiet?"
"It was not, quiet a while ago, I assure you."
"Well, I do think, if ever there was a misnamed thing, it is a party of pleasure," said the lady disconsolately.
"They are very pleasant when they are over, sister Gary," said Mr.Randolph.
"Daisy," Nora whispered, "are you afraid?"
"No."
"Your father says it is rough."
"He knows how to manage the boat," said Daisy.
"It isn't rough, I don't believe," said Ella Stanfield. "It isn't rough now."
"I wish we were at the other side," said Nora.
"O Nora, I think it is nice," said Daisy. "How bright the moonlight is! Look—all over the river there is a broad strip. I hope we shall sail along just in that strip. Isn't it wonderful, Nora?"
"No. What?" said Nora.
"That there should be something like a looking-glass up in the sky to catch the sunlight and reflect it down to us when we cannot see the sun itself."
"What looking-glass?"
"Well, the moon catches the sunlight just so, as a looking glass would."
"How do you know, Daisy?Ithink it shines."
"I know because I have been told. It does not shine, any more than a looking-glass."
"Who told you?"
"Dr. Sandford," Daisy whispered.
"Did he! Then why don't we have the moon every night?"
"Because the looking-glass, if you can imagine that it is a looking-glass, does not always hang where it can catch the sun."
"Don't it? I don't like to think it is a looking-glass," said Nora. "I would a great deal rather think it is the moon."
"Well, so it is," said Daisy. "You can think so."
"Daisy, what should we do if it should be rough in the middle of the river?"
"Ilike it," said Ella Stanfield.
"Perhaps it will not be very rough," said Daisy.
"But suppose it should? And where the moon don't shine it is so dark!"
"Nora," said Daisy very low, "don't you love Jesus?"
Nora at that flounced round, and turning her face from Daisy and the moonlight, began to talk to Ella Stanfield on the other side of her. Daisy did not understand what it meant.
All this while, and a good while longer, the rest of the people were waiting with various degrees of patience and impatience for the coming of Sam and the men. It was pretty there by the shore, if they had not been impatient. The evening breeze was exceedingly fragrant and fresh; the light which streamed down from the moon was sparkling on all the surface of the water, and laid a broad band of illumination like a causeway across the river. In one or two places the light shewed the sails of a sloop or schooner on her way up or down; and along the shore it grew daintily hazy and soft. But impatience was nevertheless the prominent feeling on board the sail-boat; and it had good time to display itself before Michael and James could go all the distance back to the house and bring Sam away from it.
"Here he is!" "There they are at last!"—were the words of hail with which their appearance was greeted. "Now off"—and with all haste the three were received on board and the vessel pushed out into the stream. Immediately her sail caught the breeze which came fair down the river, and careening a little as she took it, her head began to make good speed across the causeway of moonlight. But then the ladies began to scream; for in mid-channel the wind was fresh and the waters had not quite forgotten yet the tumult of the late storm, which had tossed them well. The sail-boat danced bravely, up and down, going across the waves. Among the frightened people was Nora, who grasping Daisy's dress with one hand and some part of the boat with the other, kept uttering little cries of "Oh Daisy"—"Oh! Daisy"—with every fresh lurch of the vessel. Ella Stanfield had thrown herself down in her mother's lap. Daisy was very much tried.
"Nora," she said, "I wish you would not cry so!"
"But I am afraid!"
"I wish you would be comforted, and not cry out so," sighed Daisy. "Papa says there is no danger—didn't you hear him?"
"But oh, I am afraid!" re-echoed Nora.
Daisy folded her hands and tried to bide patiently the time of smooth water. It came, partially at least, as they neared the opposite bank. The boat went steadily; spirits revived; and soon the passage was brought to an end and the sail-boat laid alongside the little jetty, on which the party, men, women and children, stepped out with as sincere a feeling of pleasure as had moved them all day. Carriages were in waiting; a few minutes brought the whole company to Melbourne House.
Here they were to stay supper; and the ladies and gentlemen dispersed to various dressing rooms to prepare for it. Soonest of all ready and in the drawing room were the three children.
"I am so hungry!" said Nora.
"So am I!" said Ella Stanfield.
"We shall have supper presently," said Daisy.
"O Daisy, weren't you afraid in the boat, when it went up and down so?"
"I do not think I was afraid," said Daisy, "if other people had not been so disturbed."
"I don't see how they could help being disturbed," said Ella Stanfield."Why the boat didn't sail straight at all."
"Butthatdoes not do any harm," said Daisy.
"How do you know?" said Nora. "Ithink it does harm; I do not think it is safe."
"But you know, Nora, when the disciples were in the boat, and thought it was not safe—the wind blew so, you know—they ought to have trusted Jesus and not been afraid."
Nora and Ella both looked at Daisy for a minute after this speech, and then by some train of association Nora started another subject.
"Daisy, have you got my Egyptian spoon yet?"
Now was Daisy in a great difficulty. She flushed; the little face which had been pale enough before, became of a delicate pink hue all over. Not knowing what to say she said nothing.
"Have you got it yet?" repeated Nora curiously.
"No, Nora. I have not."
"You havenot? What have you done with it?"
"Nothing."
"My Egyptian spoon! that Marmaduke gave me to give to you! You have not kept it! What did you do with it, Daisy?"
"I did nothing with it."
"Did you break it?"
"No."
"Did you give it away?"
"O Nora, I loved it very much," said poor Daisy; "but I could not keep it. I could not!"
"Why couldn't you? I would not have given it to you, Daisy, if I had thought you would not have kept it."
"I wanted to keep it very much—but I could not," said Daisy with the tears in her eyes.
"Why 'could not'? why couldn't you? did you give it away, Daisy? that spoon I gave you?"
"Nora, I could not help it! Somebody else wanted it very much, and I was obliged to let her have it. I could not help it."
"I shall tell Marmaduke that you did not care for it," said Nora in an offended tone. "I wish I had kept it myself. It was a beautiful spoon."
Daisy looked very much troubled.
"Who has got it?" Nora went on.
"It is no matter who has got it," said Daisy. "I couldn't keep it."
"She is right, Nora," said Preston, who came up just then, at the same time with the doctor. "She could not keep it, because it was taken away from her without any leave asked. I mean she shall have it back, too, one of these days. Don't you say another word to Daisy!—she has behaved like a little angel about it."
Preston's manner made an impression, as well as his words. Nora was checked.
"What is all that, Nora?" the doctor asked.
Now Nora had a great awe of him. She did not dare not answer.
"It is about a spoon I gave Daisy, that she gave away."
"She did not, I tell you!" said Preston.
"A spoon?" said the doctor. "Silver?"
"O no! A beautiful, old, very old, carved, queer old spoon, with a duck's bill, that came out of an old Egyptian tomb, and was put there ever so long ago."
"Did your brother give it to you?"
"Yes, to give to Daisy, and she gave it to somebody else."
"Nora, I did not give it as you think I did. I loved it very much. I would not have let anybody have it if I could have helped it."
"Who has got it, Daisy?" asked the doctor.
Daisy looked at him, looked perplexed, flushed a little, finally said with demure gentleness, "Dr. Sandford, I think I ought not to tell."
The doctor smiled, took Daisy's hand, and led her off to the supper room, whither they were now invited. So it happened that her seat at the table was again by his side. Daisy liked it. Just then she did not care about being with Nora.
The people gathered, bright and fresh, around the supper table, all seeming to have forgotten their fatigues and frights; and every face looked smiling or gracious. The day was over, the river was crossed; the people were hungry; and the most dainty and perfectly arranged supply of refreshments stood on the board. Coffee and tea steamed out their grateful announcements; ice cream stood in red and white pyramids of firmness; oysters and cold meats and lobster salad offered all that hungry people could desire; and everybody was in a peculiar state of gratified content and expectation. Daisy was no exception. She had let slip her momentary trouble about the Egyptian spoon; and in her quiet corner, quite unnoticed as she thought, looked at the bright scene and enjoyed it. She liked being under the doctor's care too, and his care of her was very thoughtful and kind. He did not forget the little quiet mouse at his elbow; but after he had properly attended to the other people whose claims came first, he served her nicely with whatever was good for her. Was Daisy going to omit her usual giving of thanks? She thought of her mother's interference with a moment's flash of hesitancy; but resolved to go on just as usual. She did not think she would be noticed, everybody was so busy; and at any rate there was a burden of gladness in her little heart that must speak. While the talking and laughing and click of knives and forks was thick all around her, Daisy's little head bent in a moment's oblivion of it all behind her hand.
She had raised her head and just taken her fork in her fingers when she heard her own name. She looked up.
"Daisy—" said her mother quietly—"come here."
Daisy left her seat and went round to her mother's side.
"You may go up stairs," said Mrs. Randolph.
"Mamma?"—
"Go—and remain till I send for you."
Daisy slipped away quietly, before anybody could notice that she was gone or going. Then slowly went up the stairs and along the passages to her own room. It was empty and dark, except for the moonlight without; June had not expected her to be there, and had not made preparation. Daisy went and kneeled down in her old place by her window; her eyes filled as full of tears as they could hold. She bent her little head to brush them away, but they came again. Daisy was faint and tired; she wanted her supper very much; and she had enjoyed the supper-table very much; it was a great mortification to exchange it for the gloom and silence of her moonlit room. She had not a bit of strength to keep her spirits up. Daisy felt weak. And what was the matter? Only—that she had, against her mother's pleasure, repeated her acknowledgment of the hand that had given her all good things. How many good things that day! And was she not to make such acknowledgment any more? Ought she to please her mother in this? Had she really done wrong? Daisy could not tell; she thought not; she could not wish she had not done what she did; but at the same time it was very miserable to have Mrs. Randolph at odds with her on such a point as this.
Daisy shed some tears about it; yet not a great many, and without the least bitterness in them. But she felt faint and tired and disappointed. Here, however, at her own room window, and alone, there was no bar to thanksgivings; and Daisy had them in her heart, as well as prayers for the people who had them not. She was too tired to pray at last; she only knelt at the window with her arms on the sill, (Daisy was raised up on an ottoman) and looked out at the moonlight, feeling as if she was going into a dream.
"Miss Daisy!"—said the smothered voice of June behind her—"are you there, Miss Daisy?"
June's accent was doubtful and startled. Daisy turned round.
"Miss Daisy!—I thought you was in the supper-room."
"No, June—I'm here."
"Will you go to bed, Miss Daisy?"
"I wish, June, you would get me something to eat, first," said Daisy languidly.
"Didn't you get your supper, Miss Daisy?"
"No, and I'm hungry. I haven't had anything since the dinner at the lake. I wish you'd make haste, June."
June knew from Daisy's way of speaking, as well as from the facts of the case, that there was some trouble on foot. She went off to get supper, and as she went along the passages the mulatto woman's hand was clenched upon itself, though her face shewed only its usual wrinkles.
Small delay was there before she was back again, and with her June had brought a supply of very nearly everything there had been on the supper-table. She set down her tray, prepared a table for Daisy, and placed a chair. The room was light now with two wax candles. Daisy sat down and took a review.
"What will you have now, Miss Daisy? here's some hot oysters—nice and hot. I'll get you some ice cream when you're ready to eat it—Hiram's got it in the freezer for you. Make haste, Miss Daisy—these oysters is good."
But Daisy did not make haste. She looked at the supper tray thoughtfully.
"June," she said with a very gentle pure glance of her eyes up at the mulatto woman's face—"I am very much obliged to you—but I don't think mamma means me to eat these things to-night—Will you just get me some milk and some bread? I'll take some bread and milk!"