A WORKING PLAN
Mrs. Lowell knocked for admittance at Diana's door that evening, and
entering found the girl sitting at the little desk she had added to Miss
Burridge's furnishings, surrounded by books and papers.
"Is it an inopportune time?" asked the caller, hesitating.
Diana rose smiling. "That can never be for you," she replied.
"Thank you, dear child. I am so full, I long to talk to you. You may
have a helpful suggestion."
"I shall be pleased to act as your confidante. Sit here, Mrs. Lowell. I
was just writing my mother how fortunate I am in the fact that you are
here. I encounter a good deal of difficulty in persuading my mother that
I am not in a desert place and am not doing penance. I am very desirous
of restraining her from coming to see for herself. I should be aghast at
the prospect of taking care of her and her maid here. Yet, when I pile
up superlatives, she decides that I have fallen in love with an Indian
and is increasingly disturbed."
The girl looked very pretty in the peach-colored negligee she was
wearing, its precious laces falling over Miss Burridge's cheap chairs
and matting, and her thick bright-brown hair in disorder.
"Oh, tell her he isn't an Indian; tell her he is a Viking."
Diana's serene gaze did not falter, though her color rose.
"I do not mind your badinage," she returned, "for when I fall in love,
it is going to be with a supremely unattractive man externally. I shall
be the only woman who knows and understands his charm, then other women
will not infringe my rights. After you hear Mr. Barrison sing, you will
understand that in his career, women will bow before him like flowers in
an irresistible gust of wind. I cannot imagine a worse fate for a girl
than to share that career; the more brilliant it might be, the more
crushing to her happiness. But this interview is getting turned about. I
was to be the confidante, not you."
"Then this is my tale, my dear," said Mrs. Lowell. "I have discovered
who did those sketches Mr. Gayne showed us this morning."
"Then you were right, and they were not his own?"
"Bertie's mother did them, and he inherits her talent: this poor child
whom the man is trying to blot out of normal life."
"What makes you certain?"
"Because he did one before my eyes down by the shore to-day, with a
swift, sure touch, and that thin, sad face of his lighted till he looked
like a different being. His parents are dead. His mother was an artist.
He worked with her. As soon as she left the child, his uncle forbade him
to draw, and took all his materials away from him, whipped him if he
found a pencil in his possession. Those sketches we saw were done either
by the boy or his mother. There is no doubt of it. She eloped with his
father, estranging her family from her. She was a Loring of Boston."
Diana regarded the speaker with admiration. "How wonderful for you to
obtain so much information from such a source."
"Oh, it was little by little, of course. I told him his uncle had shown
us some good sketches and asked him if it was not strange that Mr. Gayne
could do them, taking up the art so late in life; for it seems he took
it up only as Bertie laid it down; and the boy's reply was significant.
He said: 'Oh, no, it is easy.' He seemed to have no suspicion, but then
he hasn't life or interest enough to harbor suspicion. He just endures."
Mrs. Lowell went on to tell of Cora and the drudgery of the boy's dull
and dulling existence, and her listener's eyes lost their customary
serenity.
"It must not be," said the girl at last, as her companion ceased. "Have
you made a diagnosis?"
"I only feel that the 'root of all evil' must be at the bottom of it,"
replied Mrs. Lowell. "The Old Nick, as Veronica calls him, must believe
there is money to be secured, and that if he can only prove that his
nephew is incompetent, he can gain charge of it. Bertie told me that his
mother's people were rich."
"Of course, then, that is the key; but it does not explain what the man
is doing with pickaxe and shovel up at my farm."
"Your farm, my dear?"
"Perhaps," said Diana carelessly. "But that is not interesting us now.
Mrs. Lowell, I adore the unselfishness which has caused you to give your
time to this boy. I have tried to converse with him, but his lack of
responsiveness seems to obscure the clarity of my mental processes. I
wish, however, to have a hand in his salvation. The thing to do now, it
appears to me, is to discover this Loring family. That will take money
and I will supply it."
"My dear Miss Diana!"
"Drop the Miss, please. I feel honored by your friendship. Do you know
of a good lawyer?"
"My husband is a lawyer."
"Then, please, ask him to proceed at once."
The girl's dignity and beauty added charm to the sense of power in an
emergency which money sometimes gives. "It is galling that we cannot
take the boy away from that brute immediately," she added.
"Oh, we must be so careful," exclaimed Mrs. Lowell. "Rather than let us
do one thing to clear and brighten Bertie's mind his uncle would send
him off the island. We must not show dislike or suspicion; and God will
guide us in the footsteps we must take. He is taking care of the child
now, through us."
"Really, Mrs. Lowell, your faith is very beautiful," said Diana.
"Everybody should have it. Why go alone while the Bible is right there
with its marvelous promises? God's children are not puppets pulled by
wires, and so people complain that the promises are not kept. We are
made in His image and likeness, tributary only to Him--every good thing
is possible to us if we turn toward Him instead of away from Him."
"Mr. Gayne appears to have turned away," said Diana dryly.
"Yes, he made me shudder this afternoon when he talked of Bertie's
learning to swim. It was as if he hoped it might be the child's end."
Diana shook her head. "He doesn't want that."
"No, so I consoled myself afterward, but his malignant spirit bursts
forth in spite of him occasionally."
Mrs. Lowell rose and the girl followed her example. The older woman
approached and placed her hands on Diana's shoulders.
"I thank God," she said, "for your cooperation. I will write to my
husband to-night."
"Is he as--as religious as you are?"
"Not perhaps in the same way. He does not see quite as I do, but he is a
good man and loves everything good." Some recollection made the speaker
smile. "I try his soul at times by not doing what he calls minding my
own business. For instance, once I saw a young fellow at an elevated
station in New York, dazed by drink. I was in haste and on an important
errand, but I couldn't take my train and leave him there. So I went and
sat down beside him and asked him where he was going. He said, to the
Brooklyn ferry, but he was thick and helpless. I called a little colored
boy carrying a large milliner's box, and I asked him if his errand
needed to be done immediately. He was pretty doubtful, but he finally
said no. So I told him I would check his box and leave a dollar with it
for him when he returned, if he would take this young man straight to
the Brooklyn ferry and see that he did not go in anywhere on the way. He
said he would do so, and I gave him his check and car fare and some
nickels for telephoning, and asked him to call me up that evening. I
wrote my telephone number and left it with the box. He promised, and my
train came along and I had to leave them. About six o'clock that
afternoon, the telephone rang. It was my messenger. He said that when he
got the young man downstairs to go to the train for the ferry, his
charge became violently sick. After that, he came to himself and gave a
different direction to the boy. The address of an office building. He
was pale and shaky. So the boy stayed with him. They went up in an
elevator and into an office where the young man said that he had brought
the money. They sent for some one from another office, and to this
person the young man gave a roll of a thousand dollars.
"Of course, I was quite excited, and happy over this news, and I thanked
my messenger and said: 'See what God has helped us to do to-day. That
young man might have been robbed, and would have been suspected of theft
by his employer and lost his character and his position.' My husband was
sitting near by, reading the paper, and he looked up and said: 'Who on
earth are you talking to?' I just answered: 'A little darky boy!' and
went on, while my husband stared. When I told him the whole story, he
laughed and shook his head. 'Hopeless,' he said, 'hopeless.' He is quite
conservative, and he would like me to stay in the beaten track."
"That was fine," said Diana. "Mr. Lowell will be in sympathy with this
case, I hope, and undertake it with his whole heart. I am going to give
you a check to send him as a retainer. Then he will know that this is a
serious business matter."
The girl sat down at her desk and wrote the check and Mrs. Lowell took
it thankfully. She went to her room and wrote her letter. In due time
she received a reply.
_Dear One_,
I see you have again ceased minding your own business and I am
really very proud of you in spite of your obstinacy. I thought in
the wilds of Casco Bay, you might get away from responsibilities
for awhile, but I might have known that, unless I set you adrift on
an iceberg, you would find some lame, or halt, or blind, to succor.
Even then, I think the iceberg would melt at your presence, and in
short order you would be down among the mermaids explaining to them
that it was error to get out on the rocks to do their hair and sing
to sailors.
Your story is very interesting, and while I believe that Boston is
as full of Lorings as it is of beans, Miss Wilbur has made it
possible to ring every Loring doorbell and ask down which steps ran
the eloping daughter. Rest assured, as her lawyer I shall do my
best in this affair. Owing to Mr. Wilbur's prominence in the public
prints, his connections are pretty well known, and I thought I
associated Herbert Loring, the railroad president, with him. I
suppose Miss Wilbur would have told you if there were anything in
that.
The remainder of the letter dealt with different subjects, and, when
Mrs. Lowell had finished it, she hastened to her friend, and put her
question.
"I will send my father a telegram at once," responded the girl.
That form of speech was not strictly accurate, as it was rather an
elaborate operation to send a telegram from the island. However, it was
finally accomplished. This was the message to her father:
Have you any friends named Loring? Have we any relatives or
connections by marriage of that name?
DIANA
The day after the girl had given her check to Mrs. Lowell, Bertie Gayne
was not seen about the Inn all the morning. At dinnertime he returned
with his uncle. Mr. Gayne's manner was disarmingly bluff and hearty. He
had a cheerful word for everybody. The boy's silent manner and
uninterested look were just as usual. Mrs. Lowell managed to catch his
eye once or twice, but he gave no sign of understanding.
The horse-mackerel were running and the island population was all
excited. The taking of one of the huge fish was an event, and very
lucrative for the captors. The talk of the table was all on this
subject, and Nicholas Gayne entered into it with zest.
After dinner everybody went out in front of the house to view the
telltale disturbances in the waters of the bay, where numerous small
boats were hanging about awaiting their opportunity. Veronica eagerly
joined the watchers as soon as she was at liberty.
"Let us walk down nearer the water," proposed Diana.
Mr. Gayne's field-glasses were being handed about, and she was afraid
they would be offered to her. So she and Veronica moved down across the
field and seated themselves on the grass against a convenient rock.
"Where do you think Bertie was this morning?" she asked.
"Uncle took him off with him."
"Up to the farm?"
"I suppose so. Mr. Gayne seems to think that farm might get away if he
didn't see it for twenty-four hours."
"I wonder if he will not be wishing to purchase it one of these days,"
said Diana.
"I'd buy some clothes for Bert first if I was in his place. Everything
the boy has seems to have been bought for his little brother."
"Did you ever read 'Nicholas Nickleby,' Veronica?"
"Yes, I have." The younger girl looked around brightly. "I know who
you're thinking of--Smike. I've thought of Smike ever since they came."
Diana received her look with a smile. One touch of nature made them kin
for the moment, and Diana, all unconscious of her companion's mental
reservations, did not know that at this moment she was nearer than she
had ever been to being forgiven for her various perfections.
"All my childhood," said Diana, "I used to wish I could have done
something for Smike."
"I've wished that, too," said Veronica.
"Now we have an opportunity," returned Diana. "You are young and
sportive and you made a good beginning."
"Oh, I did--_not_," returned Veronica. "You might as well try to sport
with a hearse. Everything you say to him he turns his eyes on you all
darkened up with those lashes, regular mourning, and you don't know
where to look, yourself, nor what to say. Yes, I did want to help Smike,
but so long as the law won't let us string Mr. Gayne up somewhere, lots
of times I wish they'd gone to some other island. Isn't it a pity he
hasn't got spunk enough to run away? Even Smike ran away."
"I am glad this boy is not inclined to do that," returned Diana, "for I
feel that he has friends here and that something good should come of his
summer."
"Not if Mr. Gayne can help it," declared Veronica. "He was afraid Mrs.
Lowell was giving Bert too good a time with these walks and talks." She
nodded her head. "Believe me, that is the reason--"
"Well, we have found you," said a voice behind them. It was a voice
which made color steal up into Diana's cheeks. The girls both looked
around quickly.
Philip Barrison was approaching, and with him a shorter man. Both were
bareheaded.
"The blarney stone!" thought Veronica. She had been wondering when Mr.
Barrison would bring him, and now she gave him what she herself would
have described as the "once-over" as he smiled at Diana and lifted his
hand to his tightly waved hair in salute.
What Veronica saw caused her to lift her hand to the bridge of her nose
and cover its small proportions with two fingers, from both sides of
which her round eyes gazed seriously.