ST. HELIER'S
The moment she entered Rose Villa, Mrs. Thayne heartily agreed with
Frances as to its desirability. To Estelle's amazement, she proceeded
to engage all the rooms, offering to pay for the privilege of having
the whole house for her family.
This was better fortune than Estelle had dreamed of and scarcely two
days passed before she realized that a kindly star was favoring her.
Frances and Edith became friends on the spot; Nurse, who might have
proved a problem, took an instant fancy to delicate Win and started on
a course of coddling that luckily amused Win quite as much as it
satisfied Nurse. Blunt, downright Roger appealed especially to Estelle,
who also found Mrs. Thayne charming.
"Aren't we in luck, little sister?" she confided to Edith. "Even our
wildest expectations couldn't have pictured anything more pleasant than
this. If they only stop the winter! But where are you going now?"
"On the sands with the others," said Edith happily. "Fran asked me. The
boys have gone ahead to the end of the terrace."
Win was singing softly to himself as he stood looking down upon the
sandy beach that stretched for miles towards St. Helier's at the left,
and on the right, though showing more warm red granite rocks, to
Noirmont Point. "Britannia needs no bulwarks, no towers along the
steeps," he hummed just above his breath.
"There's a tower right in front of you," commented Roger, between the
throwing of two stones.
Win cast a glance at the deserted castle of St. Aubin's, a miniature
Castle Elizabeth on its isolated rock off shore, another at the
martello tower on the point.
"I was talking to a man about those little towers," he remarked. "One
can be rented for a pound a year, and there are thirty-two of them
around the island. But they didn't amount to much when it came to
actual fighting. The rocks and tides are what makes Jersey safe. That's
what I meant by this place needing no bulwarks."
"One of those martello towers would make a fine wireless station,"
commented Roger. "Why did they build them if they aren't any use?"
"They thought they were going to be," replied Win, looking to see
whether the girls were coming. "About two centuries ago there was a
battle down in the Mediterranean that was decided by the possession of
one of those little towers, so England built a good many. But they
weren't much use after all."
"I never knew that before," said Edith, as she and Frances joined the
boys.
"England wasn't the only nation that was taken in by them," Win went
on. "Italy has a number on her southern coast. For a long time people
supposed they were called martello towers from the man who built them,
but I found in a book that the name came from a vine that grew over
this one in Corsica. Before many moons pass I'm going to get into one
of them. Smugglers must have used them and there may be things left
behind."
Frances cast a glance at the tower in question. At first inspection it
looked like a stony mushroom sprouting from the rocks. Some distance
above the base opened a rough entrance and a low parapet encircled the
top. To scramble over the exposed rocks to the base of this especial
tower appeared a hard climb, to say nothing of the difficulties of
ascending. The feat looked beyond Win's accomplishment but Frances said
nothing. To argue with Win about whether he could or ought to attempt
anything was never wise. Left to himself he would stop within the
bounds of prudence but resented solicitude from others.
"Well, where are we going?" she asked.
"Let's take the train into St. Helier's," suggested Win. "We've
scarcely seen the town."
Edith looked doubtful. "I ought to ask Sister," she said. "Star thought
we were just going on the sands."
"And so we are," replied Roger. "We're taking a train that runs on the
sands," he mimicked in a teasing, boyish way. "Why don't you call it a
beach?"
"Because it _is_ sands," retorted Edith with a pretty flash of spirit
that Roger already delighted to arouse. "The tram-line is far beyond
the shingle."
[Illustration: "FOR A LONG TIME PEOPLE SUPPOSED THEY WERE CALLED
MARTELLO TOWERS FROM THE MAN WHO BUILT THEM."]
"Shingle!" gasped Roger, staring in that direction. "I don't see any."
"The pebbles, cobbles, beyond the sands," explained Edith.
"Oh, excuse _me_," chuckled Roger. "I thought they were plain stones.
Didn't see anything particularly wooden about them."
Edith looked at him. A few days had made her feel very well acquainted
with these friendly young people, but Roger was often surprising.
"Oh, cut it short, Roger," drawled Win. "Run back, will you, and tell
Mother that we want to go into town. She won't care and I don't believe
Miss Estelle will either, but we ought to mention it. Hustle, because I
think that train is coming."
Roger obligingly bolted back, received a nod of possible comprehension
from a mother very much absorbed in an important letter, and arrived
just as the others boarded the steam tram, a funny affair with a kind
of balcony along one side where people who preferred the air could stay
instead of going inside. Edith and Frances exchanged smiles of
happiness.
"I haven't been to St. Helier's often," Edith confided. "Just to market
once with Nurse, and once to choose curtains with Sister. We thought
the drapers' shops quite excellent."
Fran's attention was held for an instant, but after all it seemed only
reasonable that draperies should be purchased at a draper's.
"Isn't the beach lovely?" she confided. "It would be fun to walk back."
"We might," said Edith. "Would Win care if we did? Or could he do it
too?"
"He couldn't walk so far," said Fran, "but he won't mind if we want to.
Win is angelic about not stopping us from doing things he can't do
himself."
"Has he always had to be so careful?" asked Edith. She and Frances sat
at a little distance from the boys. Roger was peering around into the
cab of the tiny engine; Win watched the water as it broke on the beach.
"Always," said Frances. "He was just a tiny baby when they knew
something was wrong with his heart. It isn't painful and may never be
any worse. Only he must take great care not to get over-tired. Ever so
many doctors have seen him and they all say the same thing,--that if he
is prudent and never does too much, he may outlive us all. Just now in
London, he and Mother went to a specialist but all he told Win was that
he must cultivate the art of being lazy. Mother says the worst was when
he was too little to realize that he mustn't do things. Now, of course,
he understands and takes care of himself. It's hard on Win but Mother
says it's good for Roger and me. It does make Roger more thoughtful. He
says anything he likes to Win and pretends to tease him, but if you
notice, you'll see that he does every single thing Win wants and always
looks to see if he's all right. It helps me too, for I'm ashamed to
fuss over trifles when Win has so much to bear."
The little tram was traveling at a moderate pace toward town, stopping
at several tiny stations where more and more people entered.
"I can't get used to hearing people talk French," said Frances. "It
seems so odd when Jersey is a part of England."
"The French spoken here isn't that of Paris," remarked her brother,
rising from his seat. "It's Norman French."
"I know I can't understand it easily," confessed Edith, "and Sister has
always taken pains to teach me. I'm glad it isn't all my fault."
The train came to a stand on the esplanade of St. Helier's. The four
stopped to look over the sea-wall, to the beach far below, across to
the long stone piers forming the artificial sea basin and up to Fort
Regent overhanging the town like a war-cloud.
"That fort looks stuck on the cliff like a swallow's nest," commented
Roger. "Look, there's a snow-white sea-gull!"
"There's another with a black tail," exclaimed Edith. "Oh, aren't they
beautiful!"
"In the United States is a city that put up a monument to the
sea-gulls," said Win. "Salt Lake City, ever so far inland. A fearful
plague of grasshoppers ate everything green and turned the place into a
desert. They came the second summer, but something else came too. Over
the Rocky Mountains, away from the Pacific Ocean, flew a great flock of
gulls and ate the grasshoppers. Their coming seemed so like a miracle
that the city erected a beautiful monument to them."
"Did they ever come again?" asked Edith, greatly impressed.
"No," said Win. "Just that once."
"Without doubt it was a miracle," said Edith so reverently that the
three looked at her.
Roger gave a little snort, started to say something, looked again at
Edith's rapt face and changed his mind. "Boston ought to put up a
monument, too," he remarked at length. "Miracles happen every summer in
Boston. The city swelters with the mercury out of sight and then along
steps the east wind. In ten minutes, everybody puts on coats and stops
drinking ice-water. Some tidy miracle-worker, our east wind."
"Especially in winter," said Win laughing. "I'm afraid a monument to
the east wind wouldn't be popular along in January. Shall we come on?
Let's go up this street. I've a map, but things look rather crooked, so
we'd better keep together."
The quartette started, Roger and Win leading the way. St. Helier's
streets are indeed crooked, and paved with cobble stones of alarming
size and sonorous qualities. Numerous men and boys tramped along in
wooden sabots which made a most unearthly clatter. Even little girls
wore them, though otherwise their dress was not unusual. Outside one
shop hung many of the clumsy foot-gear, the price explaining their
evident popularity.
Signs over shops were as often French as English and sometimes both. At
one corner, the party met a man ringing a bell and uttering a
proclamation in French. At the next corner he stopped to announce it in
English and the interested boys found that he was advertising a public
auction. No one else seemed in the least attentive to his remarks.
Fifteen minutes' loitering through narrow, ill-paved streets, crowded
with hurrying people and a great number of dogs, brought the four to an
open square of irregular shape with a gilded statue at one end. Its
curious draperies caught Win's observant eye and he walked around it
thoughtfully.
"What a very queer costume!" he remarked as he completed his circuit.
"What is it doing on a statue of an English king?"
Win spoke aloud, not noticing that the others were beyond hearing, but
his inquiry was answered by a gentleman who chanced to be passing.
"It is a Roman statue," he volunteered, "rescued from a shipwreck. The
thrifty Jerseymen considered it too good to be wasted, so they gilded
it and placed it here in the Royal Square in honor of George the
Second."
Win smiled as he turned to the speaker, a tall, thin Englishman in
riding dress. His bearing suggested a military training and a second
glance showed an empty coat-sleeve.
"This group of buildings may interest you," the speaker added. "They
contain the Court House, Parliament rooms and a small public library."
Touching his riding-crop to his hat in response to Win's thanks, he
turned into a side street where a young man mounted on a handsome horse
sat holding the bridle of another. With interest Win watched them ride
away. Even from a distance, something about the younger man struck a
chord of recollection in Win's usually reliable memory. He was almost
certain that somewhere, at some time, they had met. Yet he could not
think of any American acquaintance of that age who would be at all
likely to be riding about the island of Jersey, his companion not only
an Englishman, but obviously an ex-army officer.
Still, the impression of familiarity was strong and Win was yet
wondering about it as he slowly climbed the stairs leading to the
public library.
Protesting somewhat, the others followed to look at a rather uninviting
room, appealing to them far less than to Win, already on the trail for
local history. The attendant proved obliging and after supplying Win
with several books brought out a shabby brown volume.
"We have one of your writers on our shelves," he remarked with a smile,
offering the book to Frances.
"Poems of Oliver Wendell Holmes," she read aloud. "Haven't you any
other American authors?" she demanded in amazement. "And how did you
know I was an American?"
The librarian shook his head. "I have often thought we should have more
American books," he replied, "but they are so extremely dear as
compared with those published on this side of the Atlantic that we have
not afforded them. How did I know your nationality? By the way you
speak."
Frances looked disgusted. She said little more, but soon persuaded the
reluctant Win to postpone his investigations and come down again into
the Royal Square.
"Now, Sis, what's the matter with you?" Win inquired on seeing her
flushed face.
"Oh, you didn't hear that man say he knew I was an American by the way
I talked," sniffed Frances indignantly.
"Anybody would think you didn't want to be one," commented Roger
bluntly.
"I wouldn't be anything else," retorted Frances, "only I don't care to
have fun poked at the way I talk."
Win's glance traveled from his sister's annoyed face to Edith's, which
wore a look of perplexity.
"We're polite," he remarked. "Here's Edith, who wouldn't be anything
but English."
"No," said Edith gravely. "One always feels that way about one's
country. But I understand what Frances means. And I see why people know
you are not English. It isn't so much your pronunciation, but you put
words in odd places in the sentence and some of your expressions are
most unusual," she ended apologetically. "I like them. It is
interesting to hear things called by new names. Just now Fran said
'poke fun' when she meant 'criticise,' and Roger says a thing is 'fine
and dandy' when I should call it 'top-hole.' That is the difference, is
it not?"
The others laughed and Edith's attempt to bridge a dangerous situation
ended successfully. Presently their whereabouts absorbed their
attention for Win had left the map behind him on the library table.
For a time they wandered at random, following one narrow street after
another, seeing interesting shop windows, but presently discovered that
they did not know where they were.
"The esplanade must lie at our left," said Win. "If we keep turning in
that direction we shall surely strike it."
"Look at that candy," exclaimed Roger, attaching himself to a
confectioner's window. "Here's a chance to acquire some choice English.
What is black-jack, Edith? Looks like liquorice. Bismarck marble,
Gladstone rock, toffy,--what's toffy?"
"It is sweets made of treacle instead of sugar," explained Edith,
turning surprised eyes upon him.
"Sweets! treacle!" exclaimed Roger after a petrified instant. "Bring me
a fan! Give me air!"
"Why," said Frances, a sudden light dawning on her. "Treacle! I never
knew before what Alice in Wonderland meant by her treacle well. It's
molasses, Edith. There are some chocolate peppermints!"
Without stopping for further speech Frances dashed into the shop.
Presently she emerged, carrying a white paper bag, or "sack" as Edith
designated it, and with an odd expression of face.
"Joke?" inquired Win. "What did you ask for?" he demanded, accepting a
piece of candy.
"I got what I wanted," said Fran evasively. "It's always possible to
walk behind a counter and help yourself if you don't know the names of
things."
Later she drew Edith aside. "What do you call these?" she asked
confidentially.
"Peppermint chocolate drops," replied Edith. "What else could they be?"
Turning constantly to the left did not bring them to the sea. Instead
they walked a long distance only to find themselves in a poorer part of
the town, with increasing crowds of children inclined to follow. Their
appearance seemed a source of interest to older people as well and
presently Win was induced to inquire his way to the boulevard.
To his surprise the reply came in French, but between his own knowledge
and that of Edith, they made out that they were traveling inland
instead of toward the shore. This sounded impossible unless they had
completely lost all sense of direction.
But a second inquiry brought the same answer, so they followed the
offered advice, coming at last to the bay of St. Aubin's more than a
mile below St. Helier's, fortunately near one of the tram
stopping-places. Edith was good for a walk home and Roger would have
gone also if challenged, but both Win and Frances were tired so Edith
did not propose to return by the beach. Indeed, the tide was now so
high that they would have been forced to go part of the way by the road.
"School for us to-morrow," said Frances dismally. "But I think we
should plan to do something very interesting every holiday all winter."
"We will take a tea-basket and lunch out of doors," replied Edith
happily. "There are beautiful spots to visit in Jersey."
Win looked up suddenly. "Fran," he asked, "did you notice those
gentlemen who rode out of the square while we were looking at the
statue? Had you ever seen the younger one before?"
Fran shook her head. "I noticed only the one who spoke to you," she
replied. "I was looking at their horses."
"All the same," mused Win thoughtfully, "I've seen that young fellow
before and it must have been in the United States, for I know I should
remember encountering him over here."