REBBY AND LUCIA
Rebby was too astonished at Lucia's unexpected appearance to make any
response to this rude salutation; and, with another scornful glance,
Lucia went on her way to where Mrs. Lyon and Mrs. Weston were talking
together, and took a seat beside them, and was cordially welcomed by
Rebecca's mother, who, of course, knew nothing of the trouble between
the two girls.
"Lucia has forgotten her cup and spoon, Rebby; bring her your lustre
mug," called Mrs. Weston.
For a moment Rebby pretended not to hear. She was filling the cups with
cool spring water, and not until her mother called the second time did
she start toward the house for her cherished lustre mug. She was ready
to cry at the thought of Lucia's insulting words, and now she must carry
the pretty mug to her, and serve her as though she were a welcome
guest.
"I won't let her know that I care; and I must be polite because she is a
guest, even if she wasn't invited," thought Rebby, as carrying the
lustre mug and a birch-bark plate with a square of honeycomb and a
brownish crisp "spider-cake" she went toward Lucia.
Neither of the little girls spoke, and Rebby did not look at her former
friend who had led her into such sad mischief. Then suddenly there was a
crash, a loud cry from Lucia and from Rebby as the lustre mug fell to
the ground, and the contents of the frail plate streamed over the
delicate yellow muslin of Lucia's fine dress.
"Oh! She has spoiled my dress! She did it on purpose! She did! She did!"
wailed Lucia, while Rebecca stood looking at the pieces of her cherished
mug that had been brought from Boston when the Westons moved to Machias.
"She dropped it on purpose," Rebby said, but no one seemed to think of
her mug. Mrs. Lyon and Mrs. Weston were both endeavoring to comfort
Lucia, and to repair the harm done to the yellow muslin. But the honey
and water were not easily removed from the delicate fabric.
"I am going home. It's a cheap, foolish party anyway. Honey and water,
and corn-bread!" sobbed Lucia angrily, pulling away from the friendly
women, and running down the path.
Mrs. Lyon and Mrs. Weston looked after her in amazed disapproval.
"I begin to think there is something in the rumors that Captain Horton
and his wife are not trustworthy," Mrs. Lyon said. "The child is so
ill-bred she can be but indulged and spoiled at home," and Mrs. Weston
agreed. But neither of them imagined that Lucia's mother and father were
disloyal to the American cause, and only waiting a profitable
opportunity to betray the little settlement to its enemies.
Lucia's angry words cast but a brief shadow over the gathering, and no
one noticed that Rebecca had disappeared. At the moment Lucia started
for home Rebby had run toward the house. She hurried up the stairs to
the little room under the roof where she and Anna slept, and from the
closet she drew out the square wooden box that her father had made for
her. Her initials R. F. W. were carved inside a small square on the
cover, and it had a lock and key. Rebby was very proud of this box, and
in it she kept her most treasured possessions: a handkerchief of fine
lawn with a lace edge, a pin made from a silver sixpence, and the
prayer-book her Grandmother Weston had given her. When Lucia gave her
the silk mitts for a birthday present Rebby had put them carefully away
with these other treasures. Now she pulled them out hurriedly, and,
without waiting to close the box, she ran down the stairs through the
kitchen, keeping carefully out of sight of the group under the elm
trees, until she could not be seen from the house. Then she caught a
glimpse of Lucia's yellow dress, and ran faster than before. But she did
not call Lucia's name. She said to herself that she would never speak to
Lucia again.
Hearing the hurrying steps behind her Lucia looked over her shoulder,
and seeing Rebby she became frightened and ran faster than ever. Lucia
did not know why she was afraid, but she remembered that she had not
been asked to the party, that she had spoken insultingly to Rebby,
and--she had dropped the mug purposely. So it was small wonder that her
guilty conscience accused her, and that she was eager to reach home
before Rebby could overtake her.
On raced the two girls along the narrow path. A few men at the wharves
watched the flying figures, but no one imagined it more than a game.
Very soon the Horton house was in sight. Its front door opening on the
street stood open to admit the pleasant spring air. In a moment Lucia
was in the house and had slammed and fastened the door behind her.
Rebby stood on the step breathless, the silk mitts clasped in her hand.
After a moment she rapped loudly on the door. There was no response. But
in a moment an upper window opened, and Mrs. Horton looked down at
Rebby.
"Why, Rebecca Flora!" she exclaimed in her pleasant voice. "Lucia has
gone to your party."
"If you please, Mrs. Horton, I have brought back the mitts Lucia gave me
for a birthday present," responded Rebby, her voice faltering a little.
"Oh! Don't they fit? Why, that is a shame. Well, lay them on the step,"
said Mrs. Horton, wondering why Rebby should look so flushed and warm,
and why she had not given the mitts to Lucia. Later on, when she heard
Lucia's account of Rebby's turning honey and water over the pretty
yellow muslin, she decided that Rebecca was ashamed to keep a gift after
treating Lucia so badly.
Rebby went slowly toward home tired and unhappy. All the pleasure of
the party, she said to herself, was spoiled. She was not sorry to give
up the mitts, for everything that reminded her of Lucia made her think
of the night when they had pushed the liberty tree from its moorings.
When she was nearly home she heard Mr. Foster's whistle and in a moment
they were face to face.
"Well, Rebecca Flora, 'twas a fine party," he said smilingly, for Mr.
Foster had not seen the accident to the mug. "The neighbors are all
smiling and cheerful, and we are all the better for meeting in this
neighborly fashion," and Mr. Foster ended his sentence with a whistle
like a bird's note. "You must come with the others to the liberty pole
on Sabbath morning," he added. "Parson Lyon is to preach to us there,
and 'twill be a great occasion."
"Yes, sir," Rebby responded, and went slowly on up the slope. It began
to seem to her that she would never escape from the liberty pole. And
now she met Mr. and Mrs. Lyon, with Melvina dancing along in front of
them. "More like Danna than Danna is like herself," thought Rebby,
smiling, as she remembered how sedately and quietly Melvina had walked
before Danna and Luretta had played their mischievous pranks on the day
of the tempest.
The neighbors had all gone when Rebecca reached home, and Mrs. Weston
and Anna were in the house, while Mr. Weston and Paul were taking up the
seats under the elm trees. The pieces of the broken lustre mug lay on
the kitchen table, and Rebby's face clouded as she stood looking at
them.
"Lucia Horton dropped it on purpose!" she said. "I know she did."
"And nobody asked her to come to our party," added Anna; "'twas rude of
her to come."
Mrs. Weston looked in astonishment at her two little daughters.
"Not ask Lucia?" she questioned, and listened to Rebby's explanation:
that, because of the Hortons' store of dainties, and their scorn of the
simple fare of their neighbors, Rebby had decided not to ask Lucia to
her party.
But when the little girl had finished her story, Mrs. Weston shook her
head disapprovingly.
"I am not pleased with you, Rebecca," she said. "'Twas not a kind
thought to sit in judgment and decide to punish a friend for something
that is no fault of hers. Lucia did right to come. Of course she thought
you would welcome her."
"She didn't! She didn't!" exclaimed Rebby. "She made up faces at me, and
said--"
"Never mind, Rebecca. You see what comes from quarreling. Your mug is
broken, Lucia's dress is spoiled, and you had no pleasure from the
afternoon. Now, there is something for you to do to put this straight.
You must take off your pinafore, put on your sunbonnet, and go straight
to Mrs. Horton's and ask Lucia's pardon."
"Oh, Mother!" wailed Rebby. "It isn't fair. It isn't my fault."
But Mrs. Weston was firm. From Rebby's own story her mother decided that
she had been unfair to Lucia; she did not ask if Rebby had purposely
spilled the honey on Lucia's muslin dress, but she felt it was not the
time to allow any ill feeling among the families of the settlement, and
that Rebecca's failure to ask the Hortons to come with the other
neighbors to taste the wild honey could easily offend them.
Anna stood looking first at Rebby and then at her mother. It was so
seldom that Rebby cried, that it seemed a very dreadful thing to her
younger sister.
"I'll go, Mother, let me go!" she asked eagerly.
"Do not be so foolish, Anna," responded Mrs. Weston. "This is your
sister's duty. It has nothing to do with you. Take off your pinafore,
Rebecca, and do as I bid you."
Rebecca was sobbing bitterly. She could not believe that her mother
really meant that she should go and ask Lucia Horton's forgiveness.
"If you knew----" she began, tempted to tell her mother all that Lucia
had said about the liberty pole, and even what they had done to prevent
its erection. But the memory of her promise held her. She knew that her
mother expected obedience, and she took off her pinafore, took her
sunbonnet, and, still sobbing, went slowly from the room. Anna started
to follow her, but Mrs. Weston called her back sharply.
"Anna, you are not to go with your sister," she said, and the little
girl came slowly back.
"Oh, dear," she sighed, "I wish Lucia Horton would go sailing off to far
lands. To--to Egypt," she concluded. For Anna had never heard much that
was pleasant about Egypt, and was sure that all this trouble was
Lucia's fault.
Rebecca had never been so unhappy in her life as when she realized that
her mother expected her to go to the Hortons' and ask Lucia's pardon for
not inviting Mrs. Horton and Lucia to the honey party. There were robins
singing in the trees, bluebirds flitting about with gay little notes,
and the spring day was full of beauty, but Rebby was not conscious of it
as she went slowly along the path.
Very soon she was again standing in front of the Hortons' door, and
summoning all her courage she rapped loudly. There was no response, and
after a few moments she rapped again; but the house seemed silent and
deserted, and no one came to open the door.
And now Rebecca did not know what to do. If she went home she knew that
her mother would say that she must return at a later hour to fulfil her
errand. So the little girl decided to sit down on the steps and wait for
a time.
Twilight was near at hand. The sun was low in the western sky, and a
cool little breeze crept up from the river and stirred the tree-tops.
Shadows gathered about the house, and still there was no sign or sound
of the Hortons, and Rebby was about to start for home when a man came
around the corner of the house and spoke to her.
He was evidently a sailor, and in a great hurry. He asked no questions
but began speaking as if he had no time to lose.
"Tell your mother that the _Polly_ and _Unity_ will come into harbor
to-morrow, and that Captain Jones is on board the _Unity_. There's a
British gunboat along with them, and your father says there may be
trouble, and for you and your mother to keep close indoors until he
comes."
The sailor started to move off, but Rebby found courage to ask:
"Where--where are the sloops now?"
"Anchored below Round Island; but we'll be sailing in with morning tide.
The Captain bade me keep well out of sight and come straight back to the
sloop. Be sure you tell your mother," responded the man, speaking in
such low tones that Rebby had to listen sharply to understand.
"Yes, I'll tell my mother," she replied, and without a moment's
hesitation she started for home as fast as her feet could carry her. She
had entirely forgotten her anger toward Lucia, or her mother's reproof.
All she could think of was the news this sailor, evidently a member of
the _Polly's_ crew, had told her, believing that he was speaking to
Lucia Horton.
And now Rebecca recalled all that Lucia had told her of what might
befall the little village if a British gunboat sailed into harbor and
saw a liberty tree flaunting its courageous defiance to injustice. But
now she could tell her father, not Lucia's secret, but what the sailor
had told her.
"And Father will know what to do. Father and Mr. Lyon," she thought
breathlessly, as she ran swiftly up the path and burst into the kitchen,
where her father and mother and Anna were waiting her return.
She told her story quickly, and without any mention of what Lucia had
confided in her weeks before. "The sailor thought I was Captain Horton's
little girl," she concluded.
Mr. Weston questioned Rebby carefully, and then said:
"I'll take this news to Captain O'Brien and to Parson Lyon; but say
nothing about it to anyone until we see what news the _Polly_ brings."
And he hurried away to prepare his neighbors for possible danger.
"You see, Rebby, your obedience may have saved the settlement," said
Mrs. Weston, putting her arm about Rebecca.
"But I had not seen Lucia, Mother. I was waiting for her," said Rebecca.
Mrs. Weston made no answer; her thoughts were too full of the possible
dangers to the settlement from the British gunboat to think much of the
postponed apology; nor was the matter ever again mentioned.
"Now, Rebby, you really have done something for America," declared Anna,
as the sisters went up to their room that night. But Rebby shook her
head.
"No, Danna, I haven't. But perhaps I can sometime, and you too," she
replied. For some reason, that Rebby could not explain even to herself,
her thoughts centered around what her father had said on their trip to
the Falls of the store of powder and shot at Chandler's River
settlement. She had heard her father say that Machias was but ill
provided with munitions; and with a British gunboat coming into harbor
the next day who could tell how quickly powder and shot might be
needed?