WHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT
Oriole slept so heavily when she first went to bed that an earthquake
might have shaken Harbor Island without awaking her. The exposure to
the cold and the heat of the kitchen afterward, together with the
hearty supper she ate, served to deaden her senses.
If she dreamed--of the twins or of the strange boy, Teddy Ford, in
whom she had become so greatly interested--the dream did not become a
nightmare. She slept calmly even when some disturbance rose outside the
cottage on the bluff.
Uncle Nat and Ma Stafford heard this noise however; for it came before
they had thought of bed. First it was the creaking of sail-blocks and
runners on the frozen harbor. Uncle Nat got his coat and hat and went
to the door.
"Another o' them pesky iceboats, 'Thaniel?" asked Ma, busily threading
a needle under the Argand lamp.
"I cal'late," agreed the lightkeeper, as he opened and shut the door
quickly, himself on the outside.
He saw the falling sail of the ice-craft down in the cove. One of the
men tumbled off and started across the ice and up the path.
"Sho!" muttered Nat Jardin, "it's Mr. Langdon, and he's some disturbed,
now, ain't he?"
The burly ranchman seized upon Nat Jardin the moment he reached his
side, crying in a muffled voice:
"My babies? What's happened to them, Mr. Jardin? Are they----"
"No, they ain't," said the lightkeeper coolly. "You can slat your sails
and lash the tiller. Ain't a thing to worry about."
"Thank God!" ejaculated Harvey Langdon. "And Oriole?"
"Right as can be. Don't fret yourself."
"They told me that all the children had been in the water."
"And they didn't tell you no lie--for once," said the old man, leading
the ranchman toward the cottage door. "But Ma's fixed them all up and
they are abed."
"Oriole! She got them out of the water, did she?" said Langdon. "She is
a wonder, that girl."
"Well, I cal'late she helped save the twins," said Nat Jardin,
loyally. "Yes, Oriole is some girl."
"I can never repay her. But, Nat Jardin, I want to do much for that
girl."
"Way it looks," muttered the lightkeeper, "somebody ought to do a lot
for her. I don't cal'late her mother or father will ever show up this
side of the River Jordan, Mr. Langdon."
"I am afraid you are right," admitted the ranchman. "I have been trying
to find out about them on my own account, and it seems there is nothing
to discover. The _Helvetia_ sank, I am afraid, with all that were left
aboard her."
"Sho!" muttered Nat Jardin, "I begun to believe that long ago."
"I must take the children back to the port at once," said Mr. Langdon,
when he welcomed Ma Stafford. "They have no dry clothes here and I can
take care of them better at the hotel. Besides, I shall not feel secure
until the doctor has seen them. And Oriole----?"
"Now," said Ma, with conviction, "you wouldn't disturb the girl out
of her first sleep. Just you send word to Becky Joy. Oriole can get
back all right to-morrow. The twins is dif'rent. Though for my part I
wouldn't risk them, nor myself, on one o' them iceboats."
"I have sailed those sort of things before," Mr. Langdon said
carelessly. "You don't think the children have taken cold, Mrs.
Stafford?"
"Not at all. You take 'em wrapped in blankets I'll give ye, and they
will come to no harm--though 'tis a master cold night outside."
Nobody chanced to say anything about Teddy Ford, the boy who had really
saved the twins and helped Oriole out of the sea. Langdon was anxious
to get back to town. He had great faith in doctors, and he wanted
Doctor Simms to look at the twins.
Marian did not even awaken when they lifted her out of Uncle Nat's bed;
and as for Myron, he was too brave a boy to fuss. Their father carried
them down to the ice without assistance, and Oriole did not even dream
that the twins were disturbed. Uncle Nat and Ma Stafford went to bed
and all was quiet about the cottage on the bluff when Oriole did awake.
She had no idea what time it was, only that it was pitch dark--or
seemed to be--outside. Her first thought was of the twins. But, then,
she supposed they were all right downstairs. Then she thought of that
strange boy--Teddy Ford. She hoped he was all right over at the Flow
station.
But what a strangely acting and talking boy he was! Oriole was worried
about what he had said in regard to Mr. Langdon. Not for a moment did
she believe that Mr. Langdon was not a good and kind man. Of course,
there was some mistake. Yet, how earnest that boy had been when he
spoke of the ranchman so bitterly.
"I have just got to _know_ about that," Oriole said decidedly. "And
there must be some way of straightening out the trouble. Of course
Mr. Langdon will be anxious to do something fine for that boy.
And--he's--so--handsome----"
Oriole yawned and snuggled down and would have been off to sleep again
in a moment had her sharp ear not heard a noise below. It was outside
the house. She sat up in the cold room, shivering. It was a step on the
porch.
"Now, who can that be coming to the house this time of night?" Oriole
asked herself. She was not at all alarmed. There was nothing or nobody
to frighten her on Harbor Island, as she very well knew.
"Maybe Mrs. Orr is sick--or the baby," murmured Oriole, slipping out
of bed and beginning to pull on a pair of warm stockings and afterward
Ma's slippers that the old woman had given her. "Perhaps Payton Orr has
come for Ma."
Oriole was interested in the Orr baby, too. She wanted to know if
anything was wrong with the family of the substitute lightkeeper.
She hurried into a petticoat and gown, wrapped a fleecy shawl about
her, and hastened downstairs. She had heard the person--whoever it
was--enter the kitchen. But there was no sound of voices.
"Why! isn't that funny?" murmured Oriole Putnam, and, creeping down the
well-carpeted stairs and tiptoeing across the narrow entry, she peered
into the warm but dimly lighted kitchen. There was a certain glow from
the stove in which there was banked a good fire; but not even a candle
was lit.
She could see the figure at the stove, however, quite plainly. Nor was
she uncertain in her recognition of it. There stood Teddy Ford, the
strange boy who had saved the twins and her from the bay, just putting
on his vest. His garments had all been left by Ma Stafford hanging
about the stove, and by this time they must have been completely dry.
"Why, Teddy Ford!" gasped Oriole. "What are you doing now?"
"Oh, gee!" ejaculated the strange boy. "Are you up?"
"Well, I'm _down_," said Oriole. "And I guess Uncle Nat and Ma haven't
heard you----"
"I didn't mean to wake any of you up," said the boy.
"I just happened to wake up. Then I heard you come in. But what do you
mean to do? I thought you were at the Flow station?"
"Yes, I went there. And I helped the cook clean up after supper and he
gave me a bunk. But I snuck out when the morning watch was called----"
"'Snuck out!'" gasped Oriole. "That--that's worse than saying 'gee'! I
do believe."
"Gee! is it?"
"You _mustn't_ say that so much," Oriole cried. "And what are you
trying to do? You can't go away from here like that. I won't let you,
Teddy Ford."
She closed the door into the entry so that they should not be heard by
Uncle Nat in his room, or by Ma Stafford upstairs. Teddy looked at her
curiously, and then grinned again.
"Ain't you a bossy girl?" he inquired. "You can't stop me from going."
"I guess I can stop you if I really try," said Oriole. "I'm pretty
strong."
The boy laughed. "Pooh!" he said.
Now, under certain circumstances, there is no verbal sound in the
language as aggravating as "Pooh!"
"Don't 'Pooh!' me. I am strong. So now!" Oriole cried quite furiously.
"Needn't get so huffed about it," said Teddy Ford, more mildly. "But
girls ain't ever as strong as boys. They can't be."
"I--I don't think you're so awfully polite," announced Oriole. "And
girls _are_ strong like boys--sometimes. You just try to get me away
from this door!" she challenged.
"Say! I don't fight girls. I was brought up better than that, I hope!
Now, you let me go."
"But there is no reason why you should go. We mean well by you," said
Oriole, using an old-fashioned expression that she had learned of late.
"I am sure Uncle Nat and Ma----"
"Oh, say! I know you folks are all right. But that Harvey Langdon----"
"When Mr. Langdon hears what you did for the twins, he will do
_any_thing for you," she emphatically declared.
"That's all you know about it," said Teddy Ford sullenly.
"I guess I know as much about Mr. Langdon as you do!" cried Oriole,
with considerable heat.
"I don't believe you do. You know only one side of him--the good side."
"Well!" she challenged, "do you know any more? You say you only know
his bad side. Though it doesn't seem to me that the twins' papa can
have much of a bad side."
"Gee!"
"I _wish_ you'd stop using that word," complained Oriole again. "And I
am sure if you would let him, Mr. Langdon would--would----"
"Gee! Send me to jail, maybe," and this time the boy smiled ruefully.
"Why, Teddy Ford! what have you ever done?" demanded Oriole.
"There _you_ go!" exclaimed the boy. "You're just as quick to believe
me in the wrong as the next one," and he started for the door.
But Oriole placed herself before him. She was both earnest and
sympathetic. When she seized him by the wrinkled lapels of his jacket,
he could not very well throw her off.
"Tell me! Please!" she begged. "Tell me all about it, Teddy Ford. Maybe
we can help you. And I am _sure_ Mr. Langdon must feel kindly toward
you after what you have done for Myron and Marian."