A STRANGER IN THE KINGDOM
Janet halted in her climb up the steep bank at the back of the
deserted house and smiled down at the ground. The perfect outline of
a bare foot made a path ahead of her straight to the steps of the
porch.
It was one of the warm, golden days that come sometimes in the fall,
as though the summer, being sorry to go, sent it to bid a last
regretful good-by.
A week had passed since the fair, and during that time Janet had made
many trips to her Kingdom and she and Peter had become fast friends.
They read their favorite books aloud to each other and played a game
of "pretend" that would have been impossible to two people who had
not both understood the meaning of loneliness.
To-day Janet found Peter deep in a thick, uninteresting-looking book,
but as she appeared in the window he closed it and jumped up.
"Good morning, Princess," he greeted. "I thought you were never
coming, I chopped wood, fed the chickens and did all I could think of
so that I wouldn't be missed."
"I couldn't get away a minute sooner,"--Janet made a comical face.
"Mrs. Blake came to see grandmother yesterday, and of course she had
to tell her that she was so surprised to learn that I didn't like to
sew. Grandmother didn't say much, but this morning she made me hem
some dish towels, for of course she knows I can sew passably well
when I want to. Now she'll show them to Mrs. Blake the next time she
comes." A note of affection crept into her voice as she added,
"Grandmother's like that."
"What are you reading?" she inquired a minute later.
"A book about sheep," Peter replied. "It's kind of dull, but I like
it. I imagine sometimes that I--" He hesitated and blushed.
"What?" Janet encouraged.
"Nothing, anyway you'd laugh at me if I told you."
"I would not!"
"Well--"
"Well, what?"
"Oh, it's just a crazy notion of mine, but I like to think sometimes
that I own this place, and then I plan what I'd do with it, and one
of the plans is to turn it into a sheep farm,"--he laughed
nervously--"I guess I'd better stop dreaming though and get to real
work now."
Janet noticed that he laid stress on the word "now," and she looked
at him inquiringly. He pretended not to notice her.
"Peter," she said finally, "it isn't nice to be mysterious. What
_is_ the matter with you?"
Peter ran his fingers through his red hair but he did not reply.
Instead, he put the big book back on its shelf and went over to the
window.
"It's awfully dark in here, don't you think? And it's so bully out
of doors. Let's go fishing," he suggested.
Janet nodded.
"All right; we won't catch anything but it will be fun anyway. Come
ahead."
Peter led the way toward the shore and up to a dark green canoe.
Janet was properly excited; she had never been in a canoe before.
None of the girls she knew were at all interested in boating except
to go off in sailing parties for picnics, and because the bay was
very often rough and always dangerous none of the boys were allowed
to have them. She smiled as she remembered Mrs. Waters' terror when
Harry, the summer before, had screwed up his courage to ask for one.
Yet here was Peter acting as though the most ordinary thing in the
world was to go fishing in one.
"What a beauty!" she exclaimed. "Is it yours?"
Peter shook his head. "No, I found it over in our barn and I asked
Mr. Blunt if I could use it. He didn't think much of the idea, but
he said if I could make it watertight I could have it and welcome. A
summer boarder left it here a couple of years ago. Here you go; let
me help you in. Sorry I haven't any pillows," he apologized.
Janet looked up at him and laughed.
"What under the sun would I do with a pillow?" she exclaimed.
"Stick it behind your back, of course. It makes it lots easier.
That is, most girls tuck 'em in all around, and they seem to like
it." Peter sometimes gave Janet a feeling that he was years and
years older than she by the way he talked of things, people and
places.
"How do you know?" she inquired as she settled herself gingerly on
the floor of the canoe.
"Seen them, by the dozens."
"Where!"
"Any place where there are canoes and girls,"--Peter grinned. "Dad
and I always paddled wherever and whenever we could, and we used to
laugh sometimes."
"What at?" Janet was making no effort to hide her curiosity.
Peter was busy turning the canoe around and did not answer at once.
Janet watched him, fascinated. He paddled so softly and yet with so
much strength that they skimmed along over the water as though they
were flying. Once out into the bay and headed for the mouth of a
small creek, where Peter decided was the place to fish, he returned
to the subject.
"When I said just now we laughed," he explained, "I was thinking of
last summer. Dad and I took a trip up the Delaware River and of
course we passed lots of summer places on the way, and we'd see
fellows, about eighteen, out with girls all dressed up and sitting
all packed in with pillows. They looked all right, but I would hate
to have had them with us in some of the storms we pulled through and
some of the rocks we had to pass."
"I see,"--Janet laughed, then she said hurriedly, "Peter, what an
exciting life you have had. I wish you'd tell me some more about it."
Peter shrugged his shoulders.
"Not so very," he said; "you see there was only Dad and me, and Dad
was a civil engineer and he had to be on the go most of the time.
Wherever there was a bridge being built or a railroad put through or
a dam built he was always there, and so naturally I was too. That
is, I shouldn't say naturally, because lots of people, especially
women, thought it was very strange, but Dad said I was all he had
left and he wasn't going to have me shut up in a school where he
could never see me, so along I went, and I tell you I had some grand
old times. But it's all over now and I guess I'll go to work."
"Where!" Janet asked softly.
"Out West, I guess. I like it out there, and Dad knew a lot of ranch
men that would give me a job. Dad always wanted me to be an
engineer, but that was before--" In spite of himself his voice broke
a little, and he paddled with extra zeal.
"Oh, Peter, I'm sorry." Two big tears stood in Janet's eyes. "I
wish I hadn't asked you so many questions and started you
remembering."
"Oh, I'm always doing that anyway,"--Peter tried to laugh. "And I
wanted to tell you about Dad anyway. Do you still feel like
fishing?" he inquired, abruptly changing the subject.
"Not 'specially," Janet admitted, "I'd rather just paddle."
"Want me to teach you how!"
"Oh, would you!"
"Of course. Here, wait a minute and we'll land and change places. I
wish I had another paddle, then you could paddle bow."
The exchange of seats was made and the lessons began. Janet was an
apt pupil, and Peter, remembering his father's instructions of long
ago, did as well as instructor. Black clouds rolled up in the west
without their noticing them, and it was not until a faint peal of
thunder sounded that they realized that a storm was coming up.
"Queer at this time of year, isn't it?" Peter asked, as Janet made
for the bank and he took the paddle again.
Janet shook her head.
"We have pretty bad ones sometimes in the fall; sort of breaking up
of summer, the fishermen say, and to-day has been hot, you know."
"Well, there's no time to lose for it's coming fast. That creek's a
bad place; the trees hide the sky." Peter took long firm strokes,
and they were soon out into the bay.
It was not long before the storm broke. A zig-zag of lightning and a
sharp growl of thunder, and then the rain--great drops of it. The
canoe bobbed up and down, but Peter managed to send it forward with
every stroke. Janet, though she would never have admitted it, was
thoroughly frightened, and Peter, kneeling in the stern, very calm
and even smiling, began to assume in her eyes the guise of a hero.
After several strenuous minutes that seemed like as many hours they
landed just below the deserted house.
"Let's go up and wait until it stops," Peter suggested as he turned
the canoe over. "You can't possibly row home in this."
Janet nodded, and they trudged up the hill. They were laughing when
they reached the window. Once in the Kingdom with the rain shut out,
they felt very secure. Peter pointed up to the ceiling.
"It doesn't leak any more, thank goodness."
Janet felt her nose and smiled. "Then I don't suppose I ought to
mind this," she said. "It's still black and blue, and nobody can
understand how I ever managed to cut it just there."
"Well, you can't expect me to say I'm sorry." Peter laughed.
"You might say that you wished we had met under different
conditions," Janet suggested, but Peter wouldn't agree.
"It was just right the way it was," he insisted.
"I suppose so; anyway we'd never have had such fun together if we had
been introduced. Just imagine, 'Janet, I want you to meet Mr. Peter
Gibbs'; how silly it sounds."
"Instead of 'Your royal highness, Princess of the Enchanted Kingdom,
allow me to introduce myself, Lord Carrot Tops. My calling-card is a
piece of tin, Bingo! Of course I didn't say all that but I thought
most of it."
Peter laughed and Janet joined in.
"Anyway the tin calling-card part is true," she said.
They both laughed on heartily and then stopped short, their eyes on
the doorway of the room.
A short fat little man, wearing a heavy gold watch chain and an old
fashioned soft black hat, stood frowning at them.