_From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_
_Dearest Aunt Jennie_:
I was looking at the calendar, this morning, and thought that some one
had made an extraordinary mistake, but I am now convinced that it will be
four weeks to-morrow since we first arrived in Sweetapple Cove. Your
accounts of delightful doings in Newport are most interesting, yet I am
sure that with you the time cannot possibly fly as it does here.
At present dear old Daddy is reclining in a steamer chair on the porch of
our little house, and his crutches are resting against the wall. They are
wonderful things manufactured by Frenchy, whom Dr. Grant considers as an
universal genius. When they were first brought to us I was inclined to
whimper a little, for I had a dreadful vision of them as a permanent
thing. It was a regular attack of what Daddy, in his sarcastic moments,
calls silly, female fears.
"Don't tell me he is always going to need them!" I cried to the doctor.
This man has a way of setting all doubts at rest. Just one look of his
frank clear eyes does it. I really am not surprised that these people all
just grovel before him.
"Not a bit," he answered decisively. "He doesn't really need them now,
but it will be a little safer to use them for the present. In a week or
so we will make a bonfire of them."
Daddy has been sitting as judge and jury over his poor leg. Such
measurings with steel tape and squintings along the edge of his
shin-bone, and such chapters of queries and answers! But now he is
perfectly satisfied that it is what he calls an A 1 job, and looks at his
limb with the prideful interest of a man who has acquired a rare and
precious work of art.
How can you possibly say that I must be yawning myself half to death and
longing for the fleshpots of Morristown? If I could have my own way I
would build an unpretentious cottage here, but of course I would insist
on a real bath tub. And I would come and spend the most pleasant months,
and cultivate my dear friends the populace, and those delightful Barnetts
and Frenchy's kidlet, who is a darling and my first real conquest.
The doctor and I have caught more salmon, and some sea-trout, and I have
taken lessons in knitting from some ancient dames whose fingers trembled
either from old age or the excitement of the distinction conferred upon
them. They don't despise my ignorance but are certainly surprised at it.
I am not certain that I have not prompted the arising of certain
jealousies, though I do my best to distribute myself fairly. I cannot as
yet turn a heel but I have hopes. Some day I will make Daddy wear the
things, when he puts on enormous boots and goes quail shooting, after we
go South again. I shall select some day when he has been real mean to me,
and be the blisters on his own heels!
The _Snowbird_ is now riding in the cove, having been manicured and
primped up in the dry-dock at St. John's. Daddy says that it was an
economy, for the dock laborer of that fortunate city does not yet regard
himself as an independent magnate. Our schooner and its auxiliary engine
are, of course, objects of admiration to the natives. They know a boat
when they see one. Stefansson would have a fit if he saw a rope end that
wasn't crown-spliced, or a flemish coil that was not reminiscent of the
works of old masters. The way he keeps his poor crew polishing the
brasses must make life dreary for them, yet they seem to scrub away
without repining. I have told you that Jim Brown, our second, is a native
of these parts and responsible for our coming. Now he lords it in the
village dwellings, where he is considered as a far-traveled man who can
relate marvelous tales of great adventures to breathless audiences.
Daddy, of course, directed that every one should be made welcome on
board. You should have seen these big fishermen coyly removing their
heavy boots before treading our decks--I believe that "snowy deck" is the
proper term--lest they should mar the holystoned smoothness. They have
entered with bated breath the dining and sitting room, explored the
mysteries of the galley and peeped into the staterooms.
"Jim he've written once ter the sister o' he," Captain Sammy told me one
day. "He were tellin' how them yachts wuz all fixed up an' we wuz
thinkin' as how in travelin' he'd got ter be considerable of a liar,
savin' yer presence, ma'am. But now I mistrust he didn't hardly know
enough ter tell the whole truth."
A few bystanders nodded in approval. I need hardly tell you that our
invasion is still a subject of interest in the place. From my bedroom
window, where I was trying to knit one afternoon, I heard some men who
were conversing, standing peacefully in the middle of the little road, in
spite of a pouring rain, which they mind about as much as so many ducks.
The only fat man in Sweetapple Cove was speaking.
"Over to England they is them Lards an' Jukes, what ain't allowed in them
States, but I mistrusts them Jelliffes is what takes the place o' they in
Ameriky."
"I dunno," doubted another, "th' gentleman he be kinder civerlized fer a
juke. Them goes about wid little crowns on the head o' they, I seen a
pictur of one, onst. But Lards is all right. Pete McPhay he saw one, deer
huntin', two years ago, an' said he'd talk pleasant to anybody, like Mr.
Jelliffe. That's why I thinks he's more like a Lard nor a Juke."
This conclusion seemed to meet with general approval, and the men went
on.
Dr. Grant came over to us fairly early this morning, and joined us on the
little porch.
"Good morning," he said. "You must be glad that the term of your
imprisonment is drawing to a close, Mr. Jelliffe. You will soon be on
your way home. As a matter of fact there is nothing to prevent your
leaving in a few days. We could easily put you in your berth on board,
well braced up, and in four or five days the _Snowbird_ would be at
anchor off the New York Yacht Club float."
"I am suffering from the deteriorating influence of prolonged idleness,
Doctor," said Daddy. "I have become thoroughly lazy now, and don't care
to start until I can hop on board without assistance, and walk the deck
as much as I want. This daughter of mine has developed an uncanny
attachment to the place; she sometimes tries to look sorry for me, but
she is having the one grand time of her childhood."
I protested, naturally, but he paid no attention and went on.
"Now that I can sit on this porch I get any amount of company. I know
every one in the place and feel that I am acquiring the local accent
through my prolonged conversations with the natives. I am utterly
incapable of thinking of desirable parcels of real estate, and bonds
leave me indifferent. I reckon in codfish now, like the rest of the
population. I caught myself wondering, yesterday, how many quintals the
Flatiron Building was worth."
"I am sure you must miss your daily paper," said the doctor.
"A short time ago that was one of the flies in my ointment; but now I am
at peace. Why remind me of it?"
Daddy delights in chess with the parson and long talks with the doctor. I
can see that he has become really very fond of him. Mr. Barnett is much
more frequently with him, and they have tremendous battles during which
it looks as if the fate of empires depended on the next move, but when
the doctor comes Daddy looks ever so pleased and his voice rings out with
welcome.
I announced that I was going over to old Granny Lasher, who would get me
out of trouble with that heel I was puzzling over.
"Just look at her, Doctor," said Daddy. "Did you ever see such rosy
cheeks? This has done her a lot of good; of course she has always been a
strong girl, but there is something here that has golf and motoring
beaten to a standstill. She is becoming horribly proud of getting those
salmon. I will have to take down her pride, some day, and show her what
an old fellow like me can do. I am ever so much obliged to you for taking
such good care of her."
Now you and I, Aunt Jennie, know that men are silly things at best. Of
course I am grateful to Dr. Grant for looking after me so nicely, but why
should he deserve such a lot of credit for it? Don't all the nice young
men like to look after girls? They enjoy it ever so much. But somehow
this Dr. Grant enjoys it without undue enthusiasm. I am really ever so
glad that he never looks, as so many of the others do, as if he were
pining for the moment when he can lay his heart and fishy fees, which he
never gets, at my feet. He is just a splendid fellow, Aunt Jennie, who
looks as strong and honest as the day is long. We are all very fond of
him.
"The only thing that hurts is that I have had none of the fishing," said
Daddy. "I have made up my mind to return another year and let the Tobique
take care of itself. By the time I am well enough to fish there will not
be another salmon that will rise, this year."
"No, Mr. Jelliffe," answered the doctor. "The salmon are beginning to
cease their interest in flies, but the trout are biting well."
"I have nothing to say against trout," said Daddy, "but I feel like
crying for a salmon as a baby cries for the moon. There is not much in
life outside of salmon and Wall Street. Even when I have to go to
California I troll a little on Puget Sound, but it doesn't come up to
fly-fishing."
I left them, deeply engaged in this absorbing subject. I think I have
discovered something rather noteworthy in this salmon fishing. It is the
effect that our interest in the matter has on the population. To them a
fish means a cod; it is the only fish they know. All others are
undeserving of the name, and are compelled to appear under the guise of
their proper appellations. The taking of fish is a serious business, and
one that does not pay very handsomely, as far as these people are
concerned. Therefore they cannot understand that one may catch fish for
amusement, and so we are enwrapped in a halo of mystery. Dr. Grant has
told me that some of them have darkly wondered whether Daddy was
not investigating this island with a view to buying it for weird purposes
of his own, such as obtaining a corner on codfish and raising the price
of this commodity all over the world. Isn't it funny that even here some
notion of trusts and corners should have penetrated? Of course they would
be delighted to have the price of cod raised; it is the dream of their
lives.
But most of them have accepted us as natural, if freaky, phenomena with
which they were previously unacquainted, and which have thus far shown no
objectionable features. They have become ever so friendly, yet never
intrusive, and I like them ever so much.
That poor fellow Dick was shipped back to his miserable little island,
two weeks ago, happy in the possession of a useful right arm. It was
quite touching to hear him speak of the doctor. And speaking about Dick
reminds me of the man's wife, with those peculiar ideas of hers. You
remember about them, don't you? Would you believe, Auntie dear, that all
the other women about here are just as bad? They seem to be matchmakers
of the most virulent sort. They boldly ask me if I am going to marry the
doctor, and when, the poor silly things, and if I deny the impeachment
they bring forth little smiles of unbelief.
When I showed my last stocking to Granny Lasher she announced that it was
much too small.
"Didn't yer ever look at the big feet o' he?" she asked.
"The big feet of who?" I asked, in an elegant form of speech.
"Th' doctor," she answered.
"But these are for my father," I objected.
"Sure, I ought ter have knowed that," she replied. "Ye'll be practicin'
on he first, and when yer does real good work ye'll be knittin' 'em fer
th' doctor."
"Mrs. Sammy knits stockings for him," I said, severely.
"Well, when he's yer man ye'll not be lettin' other wimmin folks do his
knittin' fer he," persisted the ancient dame.
I simply refuse to argue any more with them. They have that idea in their
hard old heads and it cannot be dislodged. If you and I had been
Newfoundlanders, Auntie dear, we would have married early and been
expected to knit stockings, in the intervals of work on the flakes, for
the rest of our natural lives. The maidens of this island entertain
visions of coming years devoted to the rearing of perfect herds of
children, to assorted household work, to drying fish and knitting
stockings for their lords and masters, until the end.
I even have a suspicion of Mrs. Barnett, sweet good soul though she be. I
walked up to her house yesterday, having met Dr. Grant on the way. He
left me at her door, and when I came in she looked at me, wistfully, and
I intercepted the tiniest little sigh from her.
"What is the trouble?" I asked her.
"Oh! Nothing in the world, my dear," she answered, in that sweetly toned
voice of hers. "Do you know, when you were coming up the path I though
that you and the doctor made the handsomest couple I have ever seen."
I laughed right out, perhaps because I sought to conceal the fact that I
was just the tiniest bit provoked. She had said this with a little
hesitancy, as if she had been just timidly venturing on deep waters. She
looked at me, and I think she sighed again, and immediately asked for my
very expert advice about cutting into a piece of very cheap goods that
has come from St. John's, and with which she expects to make a dress for
herself. I felt like crying, and laid bare my profound ignorance, and
then we had a good laugh together, for she was at once as bright again as
she always is. Then I played with the kiddies, who are cherubs, and we
had tea, and when I left she looked at me again, with those beautiful
wistful eyes. I am afraid. Aunt Jennie, that she is in league with the
rest of the feminine population. I think I am beginning to be glad that
we are going away soon.
When I returned to our house I found Dr. Grant still there. He has not
been very busy lately, but he was showing symptoms of an early departure,
returning certain flies he had been discussing to a very large fly-book.
Of course, Aunt Jennie, he is not at all responsible for this foolish
talk, and I had no reason to be unpleasant to him.
"I am sorry you are going," I said. "I hear that for the time being the
crop of patients is diminishing."
"It rather looks that way," he answered, "and I must say I am glad of it.
It is only a lull, I suppose, and I'm going to take advantage of it.
Sammy reminded me to-day that September has come and that the stags are
beginning to shed their velvet. I think that your father and you would
like some venison. I shall enjoy it too, I can assure you."
"Oh! How I wish I could go," I exclaimed, foolishly enough.
"But there could be nothing easier," he explained, quietly. "I have a
very nice little tent which I brought with me when I came here, and you
could take Susie Sweetapple with you. The two men and I can build a
little lean-to anywhere. It is really worth trying. I have explored a bit
of that country, and I am sure you would enjoy a look at it."
"It sounds very attractive, Daddy," I said.
"If there is one thing I am longing for," said the dear old man, "it is a
decent bit of meat. The cook on the yacht and the steward may possibly be
able to fill Susie's place for a day or two. You go right along,
daughter."
And now, Aunt Jennie, I am recklessly going away to furnish more gossip
for the ladies of the place, bless their poor old hearts. I have been
interviewing Susie, whose voluble conversation is often amusing, and find
that she also entertains some queer ideas. Of course I undeceived her at
once. Daddy doesn't think there is the slightest impropriety in the trip,
deeming Susie a sufficient chaperon. The ladies here of course never
indulge in such masculine pursuits as hunting, but none of them will
consider my doing it as any more wonderful than my going fishing. It will
be but one more of the peculiar doings of them "Merikins."
By the way, Harry Lawrence has written. You know, Auntie dear, that he is
one of the few very nice fellows to whom I have had to hint, as gently as
possible, that I am awfully happy with old Dad. He was the only one of
them to put out his hand, like the good, strong, red-headed, football
wonder that he is. I can hear him now:
"Shake, little girl," he said, smilingly. "You are not ready yet, are
you? I am not going to believe that this is your last word, and we'll
just pretend I didn't speak, and go on being good old pals as before. My
chance may come yet."
I remember that I felt quite gulpy and shaky when he said that, and that
I wished at the time that I had been able to think of him otherwise than
as a good old friend, just to see him grin happily again, as he so often
does. He tells me he has only just returned from abroad, having remained
longer than he expected to. He says that motoring in Norway is very
interesting. He also says he has half a mind to run up here and see what
sort of a digging we are living in. You know that Daddy thinks a lot of
him, and that Harry dotes on Dad. The boy thinks there is no one like
him, which shows what a sensible fellow Harry is.
Well, I am going to bed early, to prepare for a very long tramp
to-morrow. I will tell you all about it next time I write,
Your loving
HELEN.