VISITORS.
Attracted by the wild flowers growing in the fields around the cove
where the Water Lily was moored, the four girls had left the boat a
little while before the melon seekers had done so.
Mabel and Aurora cared little for flowers in themselves but Dorothy's
eagerness was infectious, and Elsa's pale face had lighted with
pleasure. But even then her timidity moved her to say:
"Suppose something happens? Suppose we should get lost? It's a
strange, new place--I guess--I'm afraid--I'll stay with Mrs. Calvert,
please."
"You'll do nothing of the kind, my dear," said that lady, smiling.
"You've done altogether too much 'staying' in your short life. Time
now to get outdoor air and girlish fun. Go with Dorothy and get some
color into your cheeks. You want to go back to that father of yours
looking a very different Elsa from the one he trusted to us. Run
along! Don't bother about a hat and jacket. Exercise will keep you
from taking cold. Dolly, dear, see that the child has a good time."
Elsa's mother had died of consumption and her father had feared that
his child might inherit that disease. In his excessive love and care
for her he had kept her closely housed in the poor apartment of a
crowded tenement, the only home he could afford. The result had been
to render her more frail than she would otherwise have been. Her
shyness, her lameness, and her love of books with only her father for
teacher, made her contented enough in such a life, but was far from
good for her. The best thing that had ever happened to her was this
temporary breaking up of this unwholesome routine and her having
companions of her own age.
So that even now she had looked wistfully upon the small bookshelf in
the cabin, with the few volumes placed there; but Mrs. Calvert shook
her head and Elsa had to obey.
"But, Dorothy, aren't you afraid? There might be snakes. It might
rain. It looks wet and swampy--I daren't get my feet wet--father's so
particular----"
"If it rains I'll run back and get you an umbrella, Aunt Betty's
own--the only one aboard, I fancy. And as for fear--child alive! Did
you never get into the woods and smell the ferns and things? There's
nothing so sweet in the world as the delicious woodsy smell! Ah! um!
Let's hurry!" cried Dolly, linking her arm in the lame girl's and
helping her over the grassy hummocks.
Even then Elsa would have retreated, startled by the idea of "woods"
where the worst she had anticipated was a leisurely stroll over a
green meadow. But there was no resisting her friend's enthusiasm;
besides, looking backward she was as much afraid to return and try
clambering aboard the Lily, unaided, as she was to go forward.
So within a few minutes all four had entered the bit of woodland and,
following Dorothy's example, were eagerly searching for belated
blossoms. Learning, too, from that nature-loving girl, things they
hadn't known before.
"A cardinal flower--more of them--a whole lot! Yes, of course, it's
wet there. Cardinals always grow in damp places, along little streams
like this I've slipped my foot into! Oh! aren't they beauties! Won't
dear Aunt Betty go just wild over them! if Father John, the darling
man who 'raised' me, were only here! He's a deal lamer than you, Elsa
Carruthers, but nobody's feet would get over the ground faster than
his crutches if he could just have one glimpse of this wonderland!
"Did you ever notice? Almost all the autumn flowers are either purple
or yellow or white? There are no real blues, no rose-colors; with just
this lovely, lovely cardinal for an exception."
Dorothy sped back to where Elsa stood nervously balancing herself upon
a fallen tree-trunk and laid the brilliant flowers in her hands. Elsa
looked at them in wonder and then exclaimed:
"My! how pretty! They look just as if they were made out of velvet in
the milliner's window! And how did you know all that about the
colors?"
"Oh! Father John, and Mr. Winters--Uncle Seth, he likes me to call
him--the dear man that gave us the Water Lily--they told me. Though I
guessed some things myself. You can't help that, you know, when you
love anything. I think, I just do think, that the little bits of
things which grow right under a body's feet are enough to make one
glad forever. Sometime, when I grow up, if Aunt Betty's willing, and I
don't have to work for my living, I shall build us a little house
right in the woods and live there."
"Pshaw, Dolly Doodles! You couldn't build a house if you tried. And
you'd get mighty sick of staying in the woods all the time, with
nobody coming to visit you----" remarked Mabel coming up behind them.
"I should have the birds and the squirrels, and all the lovely
creatures that live in the forest!"
"And wild-cats, and rattlesnakes, and horrid buggy things! Who'd see
any of your new clothes?"
"I shouldn't want any. I'd wear one frock till it fell to pieces----"
"You wouldn't be let! Mrs. Calvert's awful particular about your
things."
"That's so," commented Aurora. "They're terrible plain but they look
just right, somehow. Righter 'n mine do, Gerry says, though I don't
believe they cost near as much."
"Well, we didn't come into these lovely woods to talk about clothes.
Anybody can make clothes but only the dear God can make a cardinal
flower!" cried Dorothy, springing up, with a sudden sweet reverence on
her mobile face.
Elsa as suddenly bent and kissed her, and even the other
matter-of-fact girls grew thoughtful.
"It's like a church, isn't it? Only more beautiful," whispered the
lame girl.
"Yes, isn't it? Makes all the petty hatefulness of things seem not
worth while. What matter if the storm did break the engine--that
stranded us right here and gave us _this_. If we'd kept on down the
bay we'd have missed it. That's like dear Uncle Seth says--that things
are _meant_. So I believe that it was 'meant' you should come here
to-day and have your first taste of the woods. You'll never be afraid
of them again, I reckon."
"Never--never! I'm glad you made me come. I didn't want to. I wanted
to read, but this is better than any book could be, because like you
said--God made it."
Aurora and Mabel had already turned back toward the Lily and now
called that it was time to go. Though the little outing had meant less
to them than it had to Elsa and Dorothy, it had still given them a
pleasure that was simple and did them good. Aurora had gathered a big
bunch of purple asters for the table, thinking how well they would
harmonize with the dainty lavender of her hostess's gown; and Mabel
had plucked a lot of "boneset" for her mother, remembering how much
that lady valued it as a preventive of "malary"--the disease she had
been sure she would contract, cruising in shallow streams.
"Come on, girls! Something's happened! The boys are waving to us like
all possessed!" shouted Mabel, when they had neared the wharf and the
boat which already seemed like home to them.
Indeed, Gerald and Melvin were dancing about on the little pier
beckoning and calling: "Hurry up, hurry up!" and the girls did hurry,
even Elsa moving faster than she had ever done before. Already she
felt stronger for her one visit to that wonderful forest and she was
hoping that the Water Lily might remain just where it was, so that she
might go again and again.
Then Gerald came to meet them, balancing a water-melon on his head,
trying to imitate the ease with which the colored folks did that same
trick. But he had to use his hands to keep it in place and even so it
slipped from his grasp and fell, broken to pieces at Elsa's feet.
"Oh! What a pity!" she cried, then dropped her eyes because she had
been surprised into speaking to this boy who had never noticed her
before.
"Not a bit! Here, my lady, taste!"
She drew back her head from the great piece he held at her lips but
was forced to take one mouthful in self-defence. But Dorothy, in
similar fix was eating as if she were afraid of losing the dainty,
while Gerald merrily pretended to snatch it away.
"Ha! That shows the difference--greed and daintiness!"
Then in a changed tone he exclaimed:
"Pretty close shave for the pickaninny!"
Dorothy held her dripping bit of melon at arm's length and quickly
asked:
"What do you mean? Why do you look so sober all of a sudden?"
"Metty came near drowning. Tried to follow his mother over the field
to the melon-patch and fell into the water. Mrs. Calvert was walking
around the deck and heard the splash. Nobody else was near. She ran
around to that side and saw him. Then she screamed. Old Cap'n says by
the time he got there the little chap was going under for the last
time. Don't know how he knew that--doubt if he did--but if he did--but
he wouldn't spoil a story for a little thing like a lie. Queer old
boy, that skipper, with his pretended log and his broken spy-glass.
He----"
"Never mind that, go on--go on! He was saved, wasn't he? Oh! say that
he was!" begged Dolly, wringing her hands.
"Course. And you're dripping pink juice all over your skirt!"
"If you're going to be so tantalizing----" she returned and forgetful
of lame Elsa, sped away to find out the state of things for herself.
Left alone Elsa began to tremble, so that her teeth chattered when
Gerald again held the fruit to her lips.
"Please don't! I--I can't bear it! It seems so dreadful! Nothing's so
dreadful as--death! Poor, poor, little boy!"
The girl's face turned paler than ordinary and she shook so that
Gerald could do no less than put his arm around her to steady her.
"Don't feel that way, Elsa! Metty isn't dead. I tell you he's all
right. He's the most alive youngster this minute there is in the
country. Old Cap'n is lame; of course he couldn't swim, even if he'd
tried. But he didn't. He just used his wits, and they're pretty
nimble, let me tell you! There was a boat-hook hanging on the
rail--that's a long thing with a spike, or hook, at one end, to pull a
boat to shore, don't you know? He caught that up and hitched it into
the seat of Metty's trousers and fished him out all right. Fact."
Elsa's nervousness now took the form of tears, mingled with hysterical
laughter, and it was Gerald's turn to grow pale. What curious sort of
a girl was this who laughed and cried all in one breath, and just
because a little chap wasn't drowned, though he might have been?
"I say, girlie, Elsa, whatever your name is, quit it! You're behaving
horrid! _Metty isn't dead._ He's very much happier than--than I am, at
this minute. He's eating water-melon and you'd show some sense if
you'd do that, too. When his mother got back, after stealing her
melon, she found things in a fine mess. Old Cap'n had fished the
youngster out but he wasn't going to have him drip muddy water all
over his nice clean 'ship.' Not by a long shot! So he carries him by
the boat-hook, just as he'd got him, over to the grass and hung him up
in a little tree that was there, to dry. Yes, sir! Gave him a good
spanking, too, Mrs. Bruce said, just to keep him from taking cold!
Funny old snoozer, ain't he?"
In spite of herself Elsa stopped sobbing and smiled; while relieved by
this change Gerald hurriedly finished his tale.
"He was hanging there, the Cap'n holding him from falling, when his
mother came tearing down the hill and stopped so short her melon fell
out her skirt--ker-smash! 'What you-all doin' ter mah li'l lamb?' says
she. 'Just waterin' the grass,' says he. 'Why-fo'?' says she. ''Cause
the ornery little fool fell into the river and tried to spile his nice
new livery. Why else?' says he. Then--Did you ever hear a colored
woman holler? Made no difference to her that the trouble was all over
and Methuselah Washington Bonaparte was considerable cleaner than he
had been before his plunge; she kept on yelling till everybody was
half-crazy and we happened along with--Billy! Say, Elsa----"
"Gerald, I mean Mr. Blank, is all that true?"
"What's the use eyeing a fellow like that? I guess it's true. That's
about the way it must have been and, anyway, that part that our good
skipper fished the boy out of the water is a fact. Old Ephraim
grand-daddy hated Cap'n Jack like poison before; now he'd kiss the
ground he walks on, if he wasn't ashamed to be caught at it. Funny!
That folks should make such an everlasting fuss over one little black
boy!"
"I suppose they love him," answered Elsa. She was amazed to find
herself walking along so quietly beside this boy whom she had thought
so rough, and from whom she shrank more than from any of the others.
He had certainly been kind. He was the one who had stayed to help her
home when even Dorothy forsook her. She had hated his rude boisterous
ways and the sound of his voice, with its sudden changes from a deep
bass to a squeaking falsetto. Now she felt ashamed and punished, that
she had so misjudged the beautiful world into which she had come, and,
lifting her large eyes to Gerald's face, said so very prettily.
But the lad had little sentiment in his nature and hated it in others.
If she was going to act silly and "sissy" he'd leave her to get home
the best way she could. The ground was pretty even now and, with her
hand resting on his arm, she was walking steadily enough. Of course,
her lame foot did drag but----
A prolonged bray broke into his uncomfortable mood and turning to the
startled Elsa, he merrily explained:
"That's Billy! Hurry up and be introduced to Billy! I tell you he's a
character----"
"Billy? _Billy!_ Don't tell me there's another boy come to stay on the
Lily!"
"Fact. The smartest one of the lot! Hurry up!"
Elsa had to hurry, though she shrank from meeting any more strangers,
because Gerald forgot that he still grasped her arm and forced her
along beside him, whether or no. But she released herself as they came
to the wharf and the people gathered there.
This company included not only the house-boat party but a number of
other people. So novel a craft as a house-boat couldn't be moored
within walking distance of Four-Corners' Post-Office, and the
waterside village of Jimpson's Landing, without arousing great
curiosity. Also, the other boats passing up and down stream, scows and
freighters mostly these were, plying between the fertile lands of Anne
Arundel and the Baltimore markets, had spread the tale.
Now, at evening, when work was over, crowds flocked from the little
towns to inspect the Water Lily and its occupants. Also, many of them
to offer supplies for its convenience. The better to do this last,
they unceremoniously climbed aboard, roamed at will over both boat and
tender, inspected and commented upon everything and, finally, demanded
to see the "Boss."
Outside on the grass beside the wharf sat Colonel Dillingham of T,
side-saddle-wise upon great Billy, who had gone to sleep. He was
waiting to be presented to Mrs. Calvert and would not presume to
disturb her till she sent for him. Meanwhile he was very comfortable,
and with folded arms, his habitual attitude, he sadly observed the
movements of his neighbors.
Most of these nodded to him as they passed, with an indifferent
"Howdy, Cunnel?" paying no further attention to him. Yet there was
something about the man on mule-back that showed him to be of better
breeding than the rustics who disdained him. Despite his soiled and
most unhappy appearance he spoke with the accents of a gentleman, and
when his name was repeated to Mrs. Calvert she mused over it with a
smile.
"Dillingham? Dillingham of T? Why, of course, Dolly dear, he's of good
family. One of the best in Maryland. I reckon I'll have to go into the
cabin and receive him. Is it still full of those ill-bred men, who
swarmed over this boat as if they owned it?"
"Yes, Aunt Betty, pretty full. Some, a few, have gone. Those who
haven't want to see the 'Boss.'"
Mrs. Calvert peered from her stateroom whither she had fled at the
first invasion of visitors, and smiled. Then she remarked:
"Just go ashore and be interviewed there, dear."
"Auntie! What do you mean?"
"I fancy you're the real 'boss,' or head of this company, when it
comes to fact. It's _your_ Water Lily, _you_ are bearing the expenses,
I'm your guest, and 'where the honey is the bees will gather.' If
these good people once understand that it's you who carry the
purse----"
"But I don't! You know that. I gave it to Mrs. Bruce. I asked her to
take care of the money because--Well, because I'm careless, sometimes,
you know, and might lose it."
"It's the same thing. Ask her to go with you and advise you, if there
is anything you need. But, remember, money goes fast if one doesn't
take care."
It sounded rather strange to Dorothy to hear Aunt Betty say this for
it wasn't the lady's habit to discuss money matters. However, she
hadn't time to think about that for here was Mrs. Bruce, urging:
"Dorothy, do come and do something with these men. There's one fairly
badgering me to buy cantaloupes--and they do look nice--but with all
the water-melons--Yes, sir; this is the 'Boss;' this is Miss Calvert,
the owner of the Water Lily."
A man with a basket of freshly dug potatoes had followed Mrs. Bruce
to the door of Mrs. Calvert's stateroom which, with a hasty "Beg
pardon" from within, had been closed in their faces. Another man,
carrying smaller baskets of tempting plums, was trying to out-talk his
neighbor; while a third, dangling a pair of chickens above the heads
of the other two, was urging the sale of these, "raised myself, right
here on Annyrunnell sile! Nicest, fattest, little br'ilers ever you
see, Ma'am!"
"Huh! that pair of chickens wouldn't make a mouthful for our
family!" cried the matron, desperately anxious to clear the cabin
of these hucksters. She had made it her business to keep the
Water Lily in spotless order and this invasion of muddy boots and
dirt-scattering baskets fretted her. Besides, like all the rest of
that "ship's company," her one desire was to make Mrs. Calvert
perfectly comfortable and happy. She knew that this intrusion of
strangers would greatly annoy her hostess and felt she must put an
end to it at once. But how?
Dorothy rose to the occasion. Assuming all the dignity her little
body could summon she clapped her hands for silence and unexpectedly
obtained it. People climbing the crooked stairs to the roof and the
"Skipper's bridge" craned their necks to look at her; those testing
the arrangement of the canvas partitions between the cots on one side
stopped with the partitions half-adjusted and stared; while the
chattering peddlers listened, astonished.
"Excuse me, good people, but this boat is private property. None
should come aboard it without an invitation. Please all go away at
once. I'll step ashore with this lady and there we'll buy whatever she
thinks best."
Probably because her words made some of the intruders ashamed a few
turned to leave; more lingered, among these the hucksters, and Dorothy
got angry. Folding her arms and firmly standing in her place she
glared upon them till one by one they slipped away over the gang-plank
and contented themselves with viewing the Water Lily and its Pad from
that point.
As the last smock-clad farmer disappeared Dorothy dropped upon the
floor and laughed.
"O Mrs. Bruce! Wasn't that funny? Those great big men and I--a little
girl! They mustn't do it again. They shall not!"
"The best way to stop them is to do as you promised--step to the shore
and see them there. Those potatoes were real nice. We might get some
of them, but the chickens--it would take so many. Might get one for
Mrs. Calvert's breakfast--oatmeal will do for the rest of us."
Dorothy sprang up and hurried with her friend off from the Lily. But
she made a wry face at the mention of oatmeal-breakfasts and
explained:
"Aunt Betty wouldn't eat chicken if none of the others had it. And
just oatmeal--I hate oatmeal! It hasn't a bit of expression and I'm as
hungry after it as before. Just do get enough of those 'br'ilers' for
all. Please, Mrs. Bruce! There's nobody in the world can broil a
chicken as you do! I remember! I've eaten them at your house before I
ever left Baltimore!"
Naturally, the matron was flattered. She wasn't herself averse to
fine, tasty poultry, and resolved to gratify the teasing girl that
once. But she qualified her consent with the remark:
"It mustn't be such luxury very often, child, if you're to come out
even with this trip and the money. My! What a great mule! What a
curious man on it! Why does he sit sidewise and gloom at everybody,
that way?"
Dorothy hadn't yet spoken with Colonel Dillingham though the boys had
given her a brief description of him and their attempted purchase. But
she was unprepared to have him descend from his perch and approach
her, saying:
"Your servant, Miss Calvert. You resemble your great-grandfather. _He_
was a man. He--_was_ a man! Ah! yes! he was a--_man_! I cayn't be too
thankful that you are you, and that it's to a descendant of a true
southern nobleman I now present--Billy. Billy, Miss Calvert. Miss
Calvert, Billy!"
With a sigh that seemed to come from his very boots the gallant
Colonel placed one of the mule's reins in Dorothy's astonished hand
and bowed again; and as if fully appreciating the introduction old
Billy bobbed his head up and down in the mournfulest manner and
gravely brayed, while the observant bystanders burst into a loud
guffaw.