CONCLUSION.
"Uncle Seth! Oh! is it you--truly--really--you darling Uncle Seth?
Now, indeed, this is the most wonderful day in all my life! I am so
glad--so glad!"
"Same little, dear, enthusiastic Dorothy! Well, my child, I reckon I'm
as glad as you. But have you no greeting for your old acquaintance,
Mr. Stinson? or a 'Howdy' for the doctor? He and I are old friends,
let me tell you. I've known him since he was a mighty small boy."
Dorothy released Mr. Winters and made her pretty obeisance to the
gentlemen with him, while the good doctor added to his friend's
statement:
"Yes, indeed, since I was big enough to walk alone. It was he who
taught me my letters, sent me to school at his own expense, gave me my
start in life. What I don't owe your grand 'Uncle Seth' couldn't be
told. But, hello! What's up? Josephine? Eunice? So they've at last
called upon my house-boat friends, have they? And--my eyes!"
As the three newcomers stepped to the ground and started across the
gang-plank, the doctor did, indeed, rub his eyes and stare. He had not
forgotten that this was the tenth anniversary of his wedding and knew
that his wife would prepare some pleasant surprise for him, after her
custom of celebrating, but he was more than surprised this time to see
his father-in-law standing on the little deck, holding Eunice in his
arms and--yes, actually smiling! But the physician was a man of few
words. Shaking the Colonel's hand in the most ordinary fashion he
said: "Good morning, father;" and in that brief salutation the
alienation of ten years was bridged, and was never referred to again
by either side.
"Well, Cousin Seth. Better late than never;" was Aunt Betty's
characteristic greeting of her most trusted friend. But the light of
relief that spread over her lovely old face was more eloquent than
words.
Five minutes later, the doctor's party had gone. Mrs. Calvert did just
what Mrs. Bruce had prophesied she would--invited them all to dinner,
but the invitation was declined.
"Our anniversary, you know. Cook has a grand dinner waiting for us at
home and it wouldn't do to disappoint her. Father, you get in with the
doctor. Eunice and I will ride close behind. And look here, Wicky
Stillwell! What's to hinder you two boys, you and Corny, following
along in your wagon yonder with the monkeys' cage? You can share our
fine fixings, just as we used when we were little and you ran away
from home to 'Joe's,' whenever there were 'doings' at the Manor House.
Oh! I'm so happy! I feel like a little girl again and just be dear
good little boys and come. Will you?"
Of course they went. Mrs. Josephine had a way of getting her will of
other people, and this time it was a relief even to hospitable Aunt
Betty to have only her own family about her. When the rumble of wheels
had died away she called Mr. Winters from his inspection of the Water
Lily and bade him:
"Give an account of yourself, please. Why haven't you come before and
why have you come now? Come everybody, come and listen. Let dinner
wait till we learn what news this man has in his budget."
So they gathered about him while he explained:
"I wanted to come at the very beginning of the trip but, also, I
wanted to see what my Dorothy would do with her 'elephant' of a
house-boat. Engineer Stinson, here, wrote me about the breaking of the
engine and your plans for a simpler outing because of it. I tried to
get him to come back to you and take the job in hand but he had other
engagements and couldn't then. So I reasoned that it wouldn't do any
of you a bit of harm to live thus quietly for a few weeks, till he was
at liberty. He is now and has come, bringing all the necessary stuff
to work with as far as Jimpson's.
"To make a long story short: I propose; 'everybody willing and nobody
saying no,' as Dolly used to premise in making her plans, to pole back
there; to get the engine into first-class order; and then to take a
real cruise in this beautiful Water Lily all down this side the Bay
and up along the Eastern Sho'. Cousin Betty shall visit her beloved
Severn; we'll see the middies at Annapolis; touch here and there at
the historic points; do anything, in fact, that anybody most desires.
For, by and by, these idle days must give place to days of discipline,
when our small hostess, here, will resume her education in the faraway
northland of Canada. What will befall her there? Ah! well. That we
must wait to learn from time, and from the forthcoming story of
'_Dorothy at Oak Knowe_.'
"Meanwhile, the autumn is at its best. October on the old Chesapeake
is just glorious, with occasional storms thrown in to make us grateful
for this safe, snug little craft. Mr. Stinson says he wouldn't be
afraid to trust it on the Atlantic, even, but we'll not do that. We'll
just simply fill these remaining days of Dorothy's vacation with
the--time of our lives! All in favor, say Aye. Contrary--no."
As he finished the "Learned Blacksmith" drew his beloved ward to his
side and looked into her sparkling eyes, asking:
"Well, Dolly Doodles, what say?"
"Aye, aye, aye!"
"Aye, aye, aye!" rose almost deafening from every throat.
"Then, Mrs. Bruce, since all that is settled bid Chloe get to work and
give these travelers the very best dinner ever cooked in our little
galley;" said Mrs. Calvert, in her gayest manner.
Yet as she spoke, her eyes rested lovingly upon the beautiful Copse
and the sadness which any parting brings to the old fell upon her.
Till cheerful old Seth, her lifelong friend, sat down beside her, with
Dorothy snuggling to him and talked as only he could talk--always of
the future, rarely of the past.
"Look ahead--lend a hand."
They were to do that still. And in this "look ahead" Dorothy was
asked:
"What shall you do with the Water Lily, when this year's cruise is
over?"
"Is it really, truly mine, to do with exactly as I want?"
"Surely, child, your Uncle Seth isn't an 'Injun giver'!" he answered,
smiling.
"Then I want to make it over to somebody, whoever's best, for the use
of poor, or crippled, or unhappy children and folks. Darling Elsa said
in the beginning it would be 'a cruise of loving kindness' and seems
if it had been. I don't mean me--not anything I've had a chance to
do--only the way you've always showed me about 'leadings' and 'links
in the chain of life' you know. So many such beautiful things have
happened beside all the funny ones. The Stillwells finding out about
each other, and Mr. Corny 'turning over a new leaf' to take better
care of his folks; Gerald and Aurora learning to be gentle to
everybody; those Manor House people making up; and darling Elsa
growing happy, just like other girls. None of these things would have
happened if the dear old Water Lily hadn't brought them all together.
I'd like Elsa and her father to be the real heads of it, with that
sweet Lucetta and her babies next. They should keep it just for
charity, or goodness--to whoever needs that! What do you say? Aunt
Betty, Uncle Seth?"
What could they say but most heartily commend this unselfish wish.
This approval made Dorothy so glad and gave her so much to think about
that she almost forgot to be sorry when she took her last glance at
beloved Deer-Copse upon the Ottawotta.
"Look ahead."
It was all still to come; the fine trip which Mr. Seth had planned and
the joyful return home; the bestowal of the house-boat for its
winter's rest; a little time of preparation; and then the new life at
Oak Knowe, the great school in the north which was to mark the next
change in Dorothy's happy life.
Swiftly the future becomes the present, then the past; and it seemed
to all the voyagers upon the Water Lily that they had hardly sailed
away from Halcyon Point, to begin their eventful trip, than they were
sailing up to it again, whistle blowing, flags flying, and every soul
on board, from Aunt Betty down to little Metty, singing with all
fervor:
"Home, sweet, sweet Home!
Be it ever so humble--there's no place like
home."
THE END.
TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE:
Minor changes have been made to correct typesetters' errors;
otherwise, every effort has been made to remain true to the author's
words and intent. Any remaining misspellings or punctuation errors
are as in the original book.
End of Project Gutenberg's Dorothy on a House Boat, by Evelyn Raymond