ANOTHER LETTER
At two o'clock Janet was waiting in front of the rectory. She was to
drive Mrs. Todd to the station and then go on to Simpsons' and
deliver the letter. Alice and Mildred came out on the steps to see
them off, and their faces mirrored their thoughts. Mrs. Todd had
never let them drive Clinker, and they could not understand why Janet
should be allowed the privilege. There was an air of mystery about
their cousin's sudden departure, and Janet holding the reins and
watching Clinker's ears importantly added to it.
"When are you going to bring the carriage back?" Alice inquired.
"Oh, I won't be late," Janet answered evasively.
Mrs. Todd's "Hurry along now, child, or we'll miss the train," put a
stop to further questions.
"I do hope you won't be away very long," Janet said softly when they
were on their way. "Something exciting, that I can't tell you about,
is going to happen, and I think I will simply die if you are not
here."
"Mercy, child, you sound mysterious,"--Mrs. Todd laughed. "Why can't
you tell me about it?"
Janet did not reply; it would sound so rude to say, "Grandmother
won't let me."
Mrs. Todd understood her silence and laughed again.
"Well, I can see that I'll have to come back and find out for myself
then," she said; "when is it going to happen?"
"Soon, I hope," Janet told her. "It can't happen too soon for me."
Mrs. Todd considered for a moment. "Of course I haven't the
slightest idea when I will come back. It all depends on when we find
that boy. Oh, but I shall give him such a talking to when I find
him. Why couldn't he have waited until to-morrow and saved all this
fuss?"
"It was really to save fuss that he ran away," Janet reminded her.
"Poor Peter! I just hate to think that maybe he's hungry, but just
the same it was a splendid thing for him to do."
"Splendid, fiddlesticks!" Mrs. Todd ejaculated, as they drew up to
the station platform.
She said good-by very briskly, and Janet watched her, preceded by a
porter carrying her bags, get into the parlor car. Clinker did not
approve of the noisy engine, and she turned his head and started off
before the train pulled out.
It was a long drive to the Simpsons', and she let the horse set his
own gait, and so it was well over an hour later before they reached
the Simpsons' place. Janet, remembering the style in which Mr.
Simpson had driven in the day before, touched up Clinker with the tip
of the whip and the cart swung into the gateway and rolled briskly
down the drive.
Mr. Simpson came out of the barn at the sound of Clinker's hoofs, and
was as startled as Janet could have wished.
"How do you do, Mr. Simpson!" she said in her sweetest manner. "I
have a letter for you here from Mrs. Todd. She asked me to deliver
it to you." She held out the envelope, and Mr. Simpson, after
carefully wiping his hands on his overalls and finding his glasses,
took it from her.
"Where's Mrs. Todd herself?" he asked sulkily.
"She had to go to Boston, so she won't be able to come over to the
house to-day," Janet explained.
Mr. Simpson eyed her suspiciously, then he read the letter. Janet
watched his face, and at the sudden change of expression, she could
not repress a smile.
"Are you Widow Page's granddaughter?" he inquired at last.
Janet nodded and tried to look solemn.
"Did you and that boy from Blunts' know all the time that the owner
of that house was Mrs. Todd!"
This time Janet shook her head.
"Did you have permission to go there when you liked!"
"No."
"Did you know I weren't no real sheriff!"
"No."
"Weren't you scared!" The question was asked with so much anxiety,
that Janet could not find it in her heart to disappoint the little
man before her.
"Indeed I was," she said. "I was frightened to death. You see, you
looked so very severe that I thought at first you were the owner. It
was lucky for us, wasn't it, that Mrs. Todd did own it, for of course
she didn't mind a bit."
Mr. Simpson stroked his chin slowly and tried to hide the smile of
satisfaction on his round face.
"Waal," he said condescendingly, "I'm sorry I scared you, though I
must say neither of you looked very frightened; but, you see, I had
to do my duty as a one-time officer of the State."
"Of course," Janet agreed.
"I hope you'll tell Mrs. Page that I am sorry my duty lay in the
direction it did," he continued. "I wouldn't like to have her put
out with me."
"I'll tell her," Janet laughed, and added, as she turned Clinker
around, "I am going to the house on the hill now, so please, if you
happen in as you did yesterday, ring the bell and let me know you're
coming. I'd hate to be frightened that way ever again."
Mr. Simpson was now thoroughly sure that he was not the object of
ridicule, and he beamed upon Janet and all the autumn landscape.
"Don't you worry, little lady," he chuckled; "now that I know who you
are I won't never question your right to be any place in this county,
and any time I can do you a service you just call on me and you'll
find I'm your man."
Janet thanked him graciously and drove off, without giving herself
away by even a smile. Once on the road and out of earshot, however,
she laughed so heartily that Clinker pricked up his ears and started
to run.
"There, there, old fellow, I didn't mean to frighten you,"--she
quieted him--"take your time and do stop frisking. It would be too
awful for words if you ran away and dumped me anywhere. Think what
Alice and Mildred would say."
Clinker obligingly settled into a trot, and they were soon at the
entrance to the Enchanted Kingdom. Janet had never before approached
it from the land side, and she was surprised at the broad sweep of
driveway before her. The house and barns looked more imposing from
this side too.
"It is truly a fairy castle," she said aloud.
Clinker submitted to being tied under one of the sheds, and Janet
hurried around to the front porch. Mrs. Todd had offered her the key
Mr. Simpson had, but she had said she would rather go in the old way.
Everything was very still, and somehow she felt the loneliness of it
all more than ever. The roof seemed to sag dejectedly, and a few
dead autumn leaves swishing in the wind against the front door added
to the unnatural dreariness.
She shivered a little before she slipped through the window. She
wanted more than anything else in the world at that moment to hear
Peter's cheery "hello."
Once in the library, she went straight to the books and ran her hand
over them as if to find consultation in their worn backs. She
finally selected a little book bound in red. It opened readily, more
readily than usual, at a little poem. Janet sat down on the floor
and started to read aloud to herself. There was something in the
rhythm that always comforted her when she was lonely. Surely Mrs.
Browning had understood much when she wrote "Little Ellie." Janet
read it idly:
"Little Ellie sits alone
'Mid the beeches of a meadow,
By a stream-side on the grass.
And the trees are showering down,
Doubles of their leaves in shadow
On her shining hair and face.
"She has thrown her bonnet by
And her feet she has been dipping
In the shallow water's flow;
Now she holds them nakedly
In her hands all sleek and dripping
While she rocketh to and fro."
"Little Ellie sits alone,
And the smile she has been using
Fills the silence like a speech,
While she thinks what shall be done
And the sweetest pleasure chooses
For her future within reach."
Many and many an afternoon Janet had read the beginning of the little
poem and then chosen the sweetest pleasure for herself and lost the
rest of the day in dreams.
She looked up from the pages with a sigh, then her eyes fell on a
folded piece of paper lying on the floor beside her. She picked it
up and opened it. Idle curiosity gave place to excited interest as
she read:
"_Dear Princess:_
"I am sorry to go away without another good-by, but I must. Doc was
coming here to see me, and I knew if he talked to me I would give in
and that wouldn't be fair to either of us, and Dad would never
approve. I'm awfully glad you know the owner of the 'E.K.,' for now
I can always think of you there.
"I left the canoe on the bank below your house, and I rowed your boat
back. When I get a job in the West I will write and tell you about
it if you want me to, and of course some day I will see you again.
"Good-by again, and thanks for being such a good little pal.
"PETER GIBBS."
Janet's eyes were blurred long before she came to the end of the
letter, and as she finished reading two big tears splashed on to the
book in her lap.
She stood up and looked about the room forlornly; the old gloves were
gone from their accustomed place on the table.