THE COTTAGE
The small steamer, after winding a tortuous way from island to island,
at last turned into the little cove, which made a safe harbor for the
fishermen of Fielding's Island. There were not many passengers at
this time of year, and there were, in consequence, few lookers-on at
the landing. Ira Baldwin, who combined the offices of shopkeeper and
postmaster, was there to receive the mail-bag. Manny Green hung around
ready for a jest with the purser. Cap'n Ben with his dog Tinker at his
heels, loomed up a conspicuous figure to welcome the arriving guests.
These stood on the deck waiting for the gang-plank to be thrown across
to the wharf. As the tide was up it made a steep descent for Miss
Elliott who crept down cautiously followed by her niece, Gwendolin
Whitredge, coming at a more fearless pace. Cap'n Ben's big hand was
there to give assistance at the last, and his cheery voice was the
first to greet the two.
"Got here all right, didn't ye? Right hawndsome day, ain't it? Give me
them traps. I'll lug 'em for ye."
"I can carry them," spoke up Gwen.
The captain turned his twinkling blue eyes upon her, and gave a quick
sideway jerk of his head. "Ain't going to le' ye. Women-folks has
petticoats to manage."
"Cap'n Ben, this is my niece, Gwendolin Whitredge," said Miss Elliott
hastening to give the introduction which had been wanting before.
"That's what I cal'lated she was," came the reply. "Didn't guess you'd
changed your mind and brought another gal along. Wal, Miss Elliott,
your cawtage is gettin' on. They've begun to shingle. Guess you're glad
of that."
"I am indeed. Will it be ready for us in time, do you think, Cap'n Ben?"
"Don't take long to run 'em up, and when they git her roofed in the
weather don't make much difference. Pretty warm down your way?" He
turned with a smile to Gwen.
"It's beginning to be," she answered, smiling back and thinking, "we
shall be good friends, this old man and I. Ah, there is the ocean!"
she exclaimed as they took the rise of the hill. "I was beginning to be
disappointed, Aunt Cam."
"It does beat all how you city folks always want to get close to the
water," said Cap'n Ben. "I like to keep as far away from all that
bellerin' as I can, but here you go climbing over rawks, spending your
time watching waves, dragging in all sorts of stuff and sticking it up
in your houses. Why, last year somebody actually wanted one of my old
fish nets to hang up inside. Looked crazy enough when she got it there,
too, but I let her have it. I cal'lated it pleased her and didn't hurt
me."
Gwen laughed. "I can fancy it was very artistic," she said.
"Artistic! That's what you call it. Wal, I dunno. There was a man up
here last summer settin' round on the rawks making dauby looking things
I wouldn't give a nickel for, but he called 'em pictures, and somebody
said he got as much as a hundred dollars for one. That stumped me. All
the fools ain't dead yet, thinks I."
"I know a man who gets five hundred dollars for the smallest of his
pictures," said Gwen, "and for the big ones he gets several thousand."
The captain cast his shrewd eyes upon her, and gave a chuckle. "You
think mine's too big a fish story, do ye? and you're going to get ahead
of me. All right, I'll believe you when I see the checks."
They had reached the white house by this time. The vines climbing
up the trellis at the side were putting forth young buds. Small
green shoots were beginning to appear in the garden which covered
the southern slope of the hill. Beyond the slope groups of fir trees
stretched their pointed tips toward the sky. Upon the hummocky ground
which undulated between the stile and the sea, the brown reaches of
grass were giving place to a tender emerald-hued growth, violet-strewn
in patches. Upon the gray lichen-covered rocks which had failed to
gather sufficient soil for a holding of grass roots, a few fugitive
strawberry plants had lodged, and were already combining their green
of leaf and red of stem with the soft neutral tints surrounding them.
Further away the line of cottages faced the sea which sparkled and
danced in the afternoon light. The sound of hammers coming from the
most distant of the cottages betokened the carpenters at work. Mingled
with this staccato was the rush of waves beating against the rocky
shore, but above all was the sweetly insistent note of a song-sparrow,
"sitting alone on the housetop."
Gwen looked around and breathed a long sigh. "Now I know how beautiful
it is," she said. "I'd like to explore it all at once. How can I wait?"
"There is plenty of time," returned her aunt, as they followed the
captain into the house.
But it was only a few minutes that they spent inside, just long
enough to speak to Miss Phenie and Miss Phosie, to rid themselves of
superfluous wraps and to drop their hand luggage, then out they went
into the fresh air, full of the tang of the sea, but sweet with the
odors of the new spring. Through the stile to Cap'n Ben's pasture their
way led over the hummocks to the point where a small cove made in,
separating Simms' Point from that upon which the new cottage was going
up.
"Before I give one look at the cottage," said Gwen taking her stand
upon a flat rock just below the porch, "I want to observe a little of
this outside world. What a view! You have seen it before, Aunt Cam, and
you can watch them drive nails if you like. As for me I shall feast my
eyes first."
"Very well," said her aunt, "I shall have plenty of time to do that
after a while. What I am most concerned about now is the setting of
those windows. I am almost sure they are too high, though I specially
stipulated that they were to be but twenty-one inches from the floor.
Come in when you are ready, Gwen."
She carefully picked her way across the floor beams of the porch and
entered the cottage, leaving Gwen standing on the craggy point of
rocks, gazing seaward. Directly ahead was the unbroken expanse of
ocean, its far horizon dotted by a few white sails. To the right lay
Simms' Point, a freshly green slope which further up ended in a growth
of sombre firs. Beyond the point a lighthouse was visible, and a small
island over which a solitary tree kept watch. To the left a misty line
of shore curved tenderly to embrace the waters of the bay whose further
islands melted into the mainland, but whose nearer ones gemmed the deep
blue of the water.
"How beautiful it is! How beautiful!" breathed Gwen. "I never dreamed
it would be so lovely. And to think I am to have a whole summer of it!
That is almost too good to be true." She delicately made her way over
the jutting ledges of rock and sought her aunt whom she found in lively
debate with the builder.
"But I wanted this room a foot and a half wider, Mr. Eaton," Miss
Elliott was saying. "It was marked so on the plan."
"I know it, Miss Elliott," the man answered pleasantly, "but I
cal'lated you didn't realize just how small that would make the next
room."
"But I did. I knew precisely," said Miss Elliott helplessly. "I don't
see why you didn't follow the plan exactly."
"Well, the truth of the matter is, I wasn't here the day the men put up
the partition," said Thad amiably. "I had to go to Portland that day to
see about lumber."
"And the fireplace," went on Miss Elliott, hopeless to better things;
"it was to be like the one in Miss Colby's house."
"That's what you said," returned Thad, "but I think this is a heap
prettier, and I thought you'd be better pleased with it."
Miss Elliott turned desperately to her niece, raised her eyebrows, and
shrugged her shoulders. "It's no use," she said.
"It's dear; it's perfectly dear," cried Gwen looking around admiringly.
"The fireplace, made of the natural rocks, is perfectly fascinating.
I love those diamond panes, and that row of low windows. We'll have a
divan under them, won't we? Then I can lie there and look out. I gazed
at the little balcony from the outside, and it is simply charming.
Now I want to see everything, 'upstairs, downstairs, and in my lady's
chamber.' Oh, Aunt Cam, I can't tell you how happy I am, nor how lovely
I think it all. What fun we shall have getting everything in order. I
can scarcely wait till the cottage is finished and the furniture here."
"Thank goodness, there is a place to put it," said Miss Elliott. "I
have been at my wits' ends to know what to do with all my belongings.
At last I have a safe place to store them. I can dump in here
everything, over and above what we can make use of in the winter, turn
the key and leave it when I please."
"I've thought of it," said Gwen suddenly bringing her hands together.
"Of what?"
"A name for the cottage. We'll call it Wits' End. It is the end, you
see. The end of this part of the island, for we can't go any further
without crossing this little cove, or going around it, and you were at
your wits' end when you conceived the idea of building here. Don't you
think it will be a nice odd sort of name?"
Miss Elliott nodded approval. "Yes, I like it. Wits' End it shall be.
That much is settled. Now, we will explore."
As Gwen said, it was "upstairs, downstairs and in my lady's chamber"
that they made their investigations, stepping cautiously along the
timbers, picking their way over heaps of shavings, avoiding unprotected
openings, swinging around corners while they held on to the studs,
creeping up the unfinished stairs, commenting on this, criticizing
that, admiring the views from each window and finally going away better
satisfied than, at first, they had hoped to be.
"He is really doing beautifully," said Gwen. "Never mind if it isn't
exactly as you planned in some ways; he has improved it in others, and
he is such a perfect dear I shouldn't care what he did, so long as he
made it comfortable. Oh, auntie dear, I am glad you and I are chums,
for we are going to have such a good time in my summer's holiday."
Miss Elliott proceeded leisurely while she watched with loving eyes the
slim graceful figure of the girl who ran on ahead. "It will do her a
world of good," she said to herself. "It is just what she needs."
Gwen sprang from hummock to hummock, stopping to gather a violet,
pausing to listen to a song-sparrow, turning her face seaward to take
in the beauty of the eastern scene, and at last waiting at the stile
for her aunt. She had just reached this point when a man came along
a footpath leading from the little cove past Cap'n Ben's garden. He
stopped short at sight of the girl, turned quite pale as he stood
gazing at her, then with a lifting of the hat he passed on. Gwen
watching, saw him enter the kitchen door of Cap'n Ben's house.
[Illustration: HE STOPPED SHORT AT SIGHT OF THE GIRL.]
"I seem to have made an impression," she said as her aunt came up. "I
didn't know strangers were such a rarity here that people stared at
them the way that man did at me. I wonder who he is and what made him
look so taken by surprise."
"Oh, I suppose he didn't know that any of the summer residents had
arrived," returned Miss Elliott, "and he wondered who you were and
where you came from. There aren't usually any summer visitors here
before the middle of June."
"I suppose that must have been it," returned Gwen, at the same time
feeling that it did not quite explain matters.
At the side door, by which it seemed they were expected to enter, they
met Ora. She turned away her head and hurried around to the kitchen.
"What a pretty girl," said Gwen, looking after her. "Such a lovely
complexion. But, oh dear, why does she lace so painfully? Doesn't she
know wasp waists are all out of style? That they belong to the early
Victorian age and passed out with ringlets and high foreheads?"
"She probably doesn't know," returned Miss Elliott. "I notice that
many of the girls up here still cling to the traditions of their
grandmothers in more than one direction. I have heard that one, at
least, died from the effects of tight lacing."
"Then they need a missionary as much as the heathen Chinee does,"
observed Gwen as she entered the house.
She had gone out bareheaded but she tossed aside the golf-cape, which
was none too warm for out-door wear, and sat down by the window. Miss
Phenie, established in a comfortable rocking-chair, was quite ready
for a chat while she knitted a "sweaterette" as she called it. Miss
Phosie was in the kitchen getting supper, but Miss Phenie felt that it
was due to her position as elder sister to entertain the guests rather
than to give a hand to the evening's work. It was always her attitude
and one of which no one had ever heard Miss Phosie complain. The most
that she had ever done was to remark to Almira Green: "It's very easy
to be hospitable when you do the entertaining and some one else does
the work." But that was under great provocation when the minister, the
surveyor, the doctor and the editor of The Zephyr had all arrived on
the island in one day and all had been entertained at Cap'n Ben's house
because there seemed nowhere else for them to go. On that occasion Miss
Phenie, as usual, had asserted her right to the position of hostess,
and had left Miss Phosie alone to wash the dishes as well as to get the
dinner, Ora having gone to Portland for the day.
"Well," said Almira Green to whom Miss Phosie's remark was made, "there
was Cap'n Ben to do the talking, and as they was all men I don't see
why Phenie was called upon to set with them all the time."
"I guess she thought she had to," Miss Phosie had returned with the
feeling that perhaps she had said too much.
To-day, however, there was not much reason for Miss Phenie's presence
in the kitchen, for, while Miss Phosie made the soda biscuits Ora
could be setting the table. The lobsters had been boiled that morning,
so there were only the fish and potatoes to fry, and the preserves
to be set on the table with the cake. Miss Phenie, in tight fitting
black alpaca, rocked comfortably and asked questions till Gwen, by the
window, saw Luther Williams pass. "Who is that, Miss Phenie?" she
asked. "That tall man with the serious face and the kind eyes?"
"I guess you mean Mr. Williams. I presume he is taking his after supper
smoke. He boards with us, you know."
"Oh!" Gwen wondered why he had not appeared at the table. "Is he a
relative of yours?"
"None in the world, and we never heard that he had any. He gets a daily
paper and advertising letters sometimes, but I never knew him to get
any other mail. He's real well educated, and reads everything he can
lay his hands on, but he is a very quiet man. He never talks much to
anybody, but there ain't a kinder man living. If anybody's in trouble
he's the first on hand, and the first to put his hand in his pocket."
"Is he a fisherman?"
"Yes. His pound is just off your point. He's been real lucky and it's
said he's right well off."
"Has he boarded with you long?"
"Ever since he came to the island; that's about twenty years now. He
came for a week's fishing, he said, and he's stayed ever since. I never
heard a word against Mr. Williams. Everybody likes him, and if he is
rather close-mouthed you don't hear him speak ill of anyone. He's no
more trouble than a kitten. You would scarcely know he was in the house
and his room's as neat as a pin. He's not much for meeting strangers,
so it ain't likely you'll see much of him if you do live in the same
house. He ain't as sociable as father."
Gwen was rather sorry to hear this, for she liked the looks of the man
in spite of the long stare he had given her at the stile.
It was just after supper that she had her first word with him. She
had gone out to see the young moon, poised in the clear sky. It hung
directly over a shining strip of bay which was visible from where
she stood. A dip between the ridges disclosed a sweep of gray-green
marshland, a white house or two framed on either side by the pointed
firs, and, beyond all, the shining water. She stood looking at it all
with an expression of pure delight, and presently was aware that while
she was gazing at the scene before her someone was looking at her. She
turned with a smile. "Isn't it beautiful, Mr. Williams?" she said. "I
never saw anything lovelier than just that." She made a sweep of her
arm to indicate the breadth of view.
"It is very fine," he said. "I've always liked that, Miss Elliott. You
see I know your name, too."
Gwen smiled. "Oh, but you don't, for I'm not Miss Elliott at all. That
is my aunt's name. I am Gwendolin Whitridge. My friends call me Gwen."
The man shivered as if struck by a sudden chill, and backed away from
her, but almost immediately he came nearer than before, and stood
gazing at her with the intent look she had noticed at the stile. His
eyes travelled from the curling tendrils of dark hair about her smooth
brow to the tender blue eyes and sweet mouth, then down from the softly
firm chin and round white throat to the graceful, slender figure. "I
beg your pardon," he said presently, pulling himself up with an effort.
"I didn't know. Yes, it is a lovely spot. I hope you will enjoy your
summer here." He raised his hat and walked on, leaving the girl half
amazed, half amused.
"Rather queer manners," she said to herself. "Yet he speaks like a
gentleman, and would be rather nice looking if he had not such a
serious face. I never saw such sad eyes, but they did change when I
told him my name. I wonder why." However, she did not mention the
little episode to her aunt who joined her a moment later.
"Let us walk up to the top of the ridge," Miss Elliott proposed. "We
can see the White Mountains from there, and the sunset is glorious."
"There is an eastern sunset, too," said Gwen, looking toward the ocean,
where purple, gold and rose were reflected in the water, and where
wonderful opalescent clouds floated overhead. "It is a rare place that
gives two sunset skies at once," she went on.
"It is like two rings at the circus," returned Miss Elliott. "You want
to watch them both at the same time."
"Don't mention such artificial things as circuses when we have this. I
want to forget spangles and clowns and sawdust."
"You'll forget soon enough. In a week the outside world will be of
no account whatever, I promise you, for, to tell you the truth, we
discovered last year that this island is the home of a wizard who gets
you in his power, so that once in his clutches, you are bound to come
back and while you are here to forget every other place."
"That's lovely," returned Gwen. "I wonder just where he lives."
"He has a cave which I will show you. He also frequents a cathedral in
Sheldon woods, and one of his haunts is a pinnacle where he sits on
moonlight nights and works his spells."
"Perfect!" cried Gwen. "I like him more and more, and I shall be
willing to hug my chains if he binds me fast. Must we go in?" For Miss
Elliott was turning her steps toward Cap'n Ben's.
"Mustn't we?"
"To sit in that stuffy room with a kerosene lamp? Do wait till it's too
dark to see."
"You must go to bed early, for we have had a long journey, and I want
to see some color in those pale cheeks."
"I'll go early. The earlier the better, but not before dark."
"And you needn't get up early in the morning."
"But I shall want to."
"You have no kindergartners waiting for you."
"No, but I have so many wonderful things."
"Which you will have all summer to enjoy."
"I am eager to make the acquaintance of the wizard, and I am sure he
gets up very early, if he goes to bed at all. Very well, I'll go in.
Good-night, Mr. Williams," she called to a tall figure lurking in the
shadow of the big barn.