REUNION
There was one case of happiness without drawbacks on the island at this
time. It was in the humble starved heart of Herbert Loring, Second. Each
morning Mrs. Lowell came into his room after breakfast and made his bed,
taught him how to take care of his belongings, and read with him from
the books she loved. All traces of Nicholas Gayne's occupation having
been removed, and every article the boy had used in the past dispensed
with, his fresh new possessions were neatly arranged, and he waked each
morning to a new and wonderful life. Mrs. Lowell encouraged his artistic
work and allowed him to spend as much time upon it as he wished. All
fear being removed, his appetite revived, and one could almost daily see
the flesh return upon his bones. His good friend, finding that his
sapped energies recoiled from muscular effort, did not urge him to swim
or to row, but fed his mind and heart and awaited his rebuilding.
His story became known on the island, and from being ignored or
contemptuously pitied, the good-looking boy in the simple, smart sports
clothes was the object on all sides of a friendly curiosity, which he
could not understand and frequently rebuffed through his very directness
and inexperience. It was his weekly duty to write to Mr. Wrenn, and this
was a dreaded task, but Mrs. Lowell explained to him that he had his
grandfather's name, and that he must begin to learn to fill his place in
the world; and his pitifully childish writing and misspelling had to be
corrected under the eyes that were still sad at such times.
"I'm so ignorant, such a baby!" he exclaimed one morning when this trial
was being undergone.
"But you needn't mind it, need you, since it isn't your fault?" returned
Mrs. Lowell cheerfully. "So many good years are coming for you to study
and learn in."
"What will happen when the summer is over?" asked the boy. "Are you
going to take me with you? Will Mr. Lowell like me?"
"Indeed, he will. I am going to have you live near me."
"Not with you?"
"No, Bert, that wouldn't be best. I have been corresponding with a very
nice young man whom I have known a long time, and he will be pleased to
live with you and give you lessons."
"In drawing?" asked the boy.
"No, sir." Mrs. Lowell gave him the gay, smiling look he liked: it was
so full of everything cheerful and kind. "No, sir, reading and writing
and 'rithmetic."
"Oh," returned Bert, looking very serious.
"First you must give your time to study. Education is the foundation.
Then, later, when you have gone through college--Oh, how proud I shall
be when I go to see you graduate!"
"Shall you ever be proud of me?" asked the boy slowly.
"If you will let me," she answered. "It all remains with you."
"Then--then I'll try. I would rather stay with Mr. Blake when you go
away, but if you want me to, I'll live with the young man."
"You will like him. He is only twenty years old, and he wants to go to
college when he gets money enough. So he is glad to do tutoring now.
That means helping a younger boy to learn."
"He will laugh at me," remarked Bert, looking off moodily. "I would
rather stay with Mr. Blake and paint the snow on the evergreens."
"Oh, no, dear," said Mrs. Lowell. "That wouldn't please your
grandfather. Besides, wouldn't you miss me?"
"I don't like Mr. Lowell," remarked the boy.
His friend laughed and took his hand between both her own. "We shall all
love each other," she said, "and I shall hope to see you every day."
Bert thoughtfully visualized the boat carrying her away without him, and
decided to be glad of the other horn of the dilemma. He had learned to
smile, and he did so now, looking at her so trustfully that she patted
his hand as she laid it down.
"That's a good boy," she said.
On the morning after the concert, Mrs. Wilbur regarded her child rather
anxiously.
"Is it ever considered malarial here?" she asked.
"The opposite extreme," said Diana.
"Well, you look pale. You stayed out of doors too long. The night air
anywhere--"
"Oh, but it has such a pleasant way of growing warmer here at evening.
I wasn't cold, indeed, Mamma."
"And I heard that divine voice going back through the field singing
Rubinstein," said Mrs. Wilbur. She sighed. "I am glad you are so
matter-of-fact, Diana. He made me feel like a matinée girl, that man."
Mrs. Wilbur was already planning her autumn musicale, and in fancy saw
the air dark with automobiles parked in rows about the Wilbur residence
in Pittsfield.
She left Diana now to go upstairs to make her list, and the girl went
out of doors to gather sweet peas for the living-room. Pausing when her
hands were full of the color and fragrance, she turned about to view the
fresh morning landscape. As she did so she heard a gay whistling that
grew louder as it neared.
"The owl and the pussy cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea-green boat--"
The thrill of delicious terror, which had come over her on waking from
her short sleep that morning, constricted her heart now.
Philip approached. "Good-morrow, fair one; posing for a study of
Aurora?"
Diana looked around at him with deliberation. "I was deciding what
individuals of the fauna and flora here were most marked."
Philip ducked his face down into her bouquet. "You chose the sweet pea,
of course."
"No, I decided on swallows and daisies. The swallows are ravishing: so
fearless and so beautiful. Have you noticed how they dart past, nearly
brushing our cheeks, and how the sun brings out glints of blue in their
plumage? I often mistake them for bluebirds with that touch of color on
their breasts."
"Daisies and swallows," said Philip musingly. "They do seem to belong
especially. It makes me think of a song." He paused. "Did you hear that
booming of a new whistle this morning? There's a stranger in the cove, a
swell yacht. I thought you might like to come down and see it."
"Yes, I should. Let me put the flowers in water and I will be with you."
She reappeared quickly, and they struck off across the field to the
road.
"How could I know it was a strange whistle?" asked the girl.
"I suppose you wouldn't, but to us islanders every familiar whistle is
like the voice of a friend. Kelly is waiting for us in his boat. We want
to row out to the beauty."
"It was very kind of you to come 'way up here for me," said Diana.
There came walking toward them along the road a man in white trousers,
dark-blue coat, and cap with a gold insignia.
"That must be some one from the yacht now," said Philip.
Diana looked up, looked again, and with a cry of delight, ran forward
straight into the arms of the man.
"Daddy, Daddy!" she cried, "how good of you!"
The tall, handsome stranger, with silver threads in his brown mustache,
glanced up at his daughter's escort while he kissed her.
"I had to look you up, you know," he said while she held him tight, her
arms around his neck.
Loosing him, she half turned to Philip. "This is Mr. Barrison, Daddy. We
were just going down to see who was the stranger in the cove."
Mr. Wilbur shook hands with the tanned, blond youth in a perfunctory
manner, scarcely looking at him.
"Mamma is here. Did you know it?" cried Diana.
"No. You don't say so! Kill both my birds with one stone, eh?"
The girl held out her hand to Philip. "I shall have to go back, Mr.
Barrison. Daddy, take your card and write an order for Mr. Barrison and
his friend to go over the yacht. They were just going to row out to it,
and I was going with them. How little I thought it was you, dearest."
She kissed him again and fumbled at her father's buttons.
Philip thought there was some reluctance in the cool glance the
yachtsman flung him again. "Don't trouble yourself, Mr. Wilbur. Another
time, perhaps."
"No, this minute," said Diana. Mr. Wilbur got at an inside pocket. "Mr.
Barrison will take you deep-sea fishing if you can stay a few days. You
have often spoken of it."
"A fisherman, eh?" said Mr. Wilbur, as he took out his card and wrote
upon it.
Diana laughed nervously. "Oh, no, Daddy, but he knows the ropes here."
She handed the card to Philip. "The Idlewild is worth visiting," she
said, "and you never can tell with these yachtsmen. They slip off
sometimes in the middle of the night. A bird in the hand, you know." She
smiled. "Au revoir."
Philip, holding his card, looked after them as they went on up the
road. Diana was hanging on her father's arm. The young fellow's face
flushed deeply under the tan, and his lips came together firmly.
"That girl is worth all the adoration a man can waste on her," he
thought. "I don't know that he is such a fool at that."
"What a summer, Veronica!" exclaimed Miss Burridge when she found that
Charles Wilbur was going to eat mackerel and sweet potatoes at her table
that noon.
"Some do have greatness thrust upon them, Aunt Priscilla. First the
arrival of Prince Herbert, then King Charles himself."
"Yes, my knees feel kind o' queer, Veronica, and I think we'd better
have the lobster salad this noon instead of saving it for night."
The other boarders eliminated themselves, so that the Wilbur family
could occupy the piazza after dinner. Mr. Wilbur had praised the cooking
and Veronica had carried the good report to the kitchen. He sat now with
his wife and daughter, one on each side of him, and, as he smoked his
cigar, looked off on the glory that is Casco Bay.
"You're pretty nearly on a boat here, aren't you?" he said.
"It is the most wonderful place in the world," said Diana fervently.
He turned to her and pinched her chin. The excited color that had risen
in her happy surprise had faded. "You're not a good advertisement for
it," he said. "You didn't eat anything at dinner and you look as if you
had been up all night."
"I do think Diana feels the effect of all the excitement she went
through in Boston," said Mrs. Wilbur; and forthwith she proceeded to
tell the story of the grandson of her husband's old friend, and Diana's
part in it. He had met the boy at table and he listened with absorbed
interest.
"Well, little girl, well," he said kindly, "that was some experience.
You'll have to brace up now."
"Oh, I'm going to, Daddy, and I want to purchase some of this island. I
love it here. It inspires me."
"Better hold on," was the quiet response. "Why not take this place next
summer? Engage Miss Burridge as cook and housekeeper, then bring some
guests and run up here for a week or so, off and on, when you feel like
it."
"That might be pleasant," returned Diana.
Her father smiled and patted her. "You are not always going to be a
tired schoolgirl. Home may hold out more attractions next summer than
you think."
"You don't know the rocks and the walks here yet, Daddy," said Diana
wistfully.
"How many walks shall I have to take before you are ready to go back
with me?"
"Of course we're going back with Daddy," said Mrs. Wilbur warningly.
"You like the yacht, don't you, Diana?" he asked.
"Indeed, I do. It was only that you were going to have such gay people
this summer, and I couldn't be gay."
"I understand, dear. I've ditched the gay people now, and we will have a
family party only, going back."
"That will be delightful," replied Diana.
"We haven't told you the most wonderful thing yet," said Mrs. Wilbur.
"There is a most charming singer on the island. He gave a recital last
night. Nothing commonplace. A very unusual voice. I'm engaging him for
Pittsfield, Charles. He thinks he can come for a recital. He is young
and little known yet, and so will be a novelty. I want you to hear him.
You'll be wild, too."
"I promise not to be," responded her husband.
"But you can't help it, dear. Diana, why shouldn't we have a little
dinner on the yacht and Mr. Barrison would probably sing afterward, and
your father could hear him. Let me see now. Who would we have?"
"I don't care," put in Mr. Wilbur, "so long as you have that sparkling
person who sat beside the boy at dinner."
"Mrs. Lowell," said Diana. "I'm so glad you appreciate Mrs. Lowell,
Daddy."
"I'm not blind in one eye and I can see out of the other. I have my
hearing, too, and her voice is as fresh as a robin's."
"But, oh, speaking of voices!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilbur, rolling up her
eyes. "Well, then, Diana, supposing we have just Mr. Barrison and Mr.
Kelly and Mrs. Lowell."
"And Veronica," said Diana.
"The young person who waits on the table," explained Mrs. Wilbur. "She
and her aunt, Miss Burridge, are very worthy people."
"Veronica and Mr. Kelly are such good friends," said Diana. "It would be
too bad not to ask her."
"Mr. Kelly is Mr. Barrison's accompanist," put in Mrs. Wilbur.
"Barrison?" repeated Mr. Wilbur. "Isn't that the name of the husky I
met on the road just now?" The speaker removed his cigar to ask his
daughter the question.
"Yes, Mamma, Mr. Barrison came up to take me down to row out in Mr.
Kelly's boat to see the stranger in the cove. So when we encountered
Daddy on the road, I persuaded him to give them an order to go over the
yacht."
In spite of herself, the missing color came back into the girl's cheeks
while she related this, and Charles Wilbur, whom no circumstance
connected with his daughter ever escaped, observed it.
When next he was alone with his wife, he asked a few questions as to
Diana's regard for the singer.
"No, no, my dear," she returned scornfully. "You don't know Diana. We
have an extraordinary daughter, there is no mistake about _that_, but
she was telling me the other day of her ideal for a husband. He is a
fright, I can assure you, but full of charm and all that. She doesn't
want to marry any man who is attractive to women."
"Wants to fool the vamps, eh?" was the laughing reply.
"Why doesn't she look at her daddy?" was the affectionate response.
"The most attractive being on earth and one who never gave me a
heartache?"
Charles Wilbur slipped his arm around his wife and kissed her. They were
the best of friends.
"Don't you know, my dear, that a girl's father is always unique? He
isn't a man."
"Oh," exclaimed Mrs. Wilbur, harking back to her find. "But, Charlie,
you don't know how delighted I am to have such a prize for Pittsfield. I
must show you my list."
She produced it and Mr. Wilbur, frowning patiently, looked it over. He
hated lists.