THE MYSTERIOUS "MONSIEUR"
There had been a heavy fall of snow during the night. It lay on trees
and hedges in great, powdery clumps, and drifted over the Green in huge,
wind-swept hillocks. But the sky that afternoon was blue and cloudless,
and the click of snow-shovels rang out on the still air. In front of the
Birdseys' gate Carol and Sue were frantically shoveling a footway, not
because they had to, but for the sheer joy of exercise in the
invigorating air.
"It's queer we haven't seen anything of Louis since that visitor came,"
commented Carol. "He's missing a lot of time at school, and I'm sure he
hates that."
"Yes, it's three days since 'Monsieur,' as the Imp calls him, came. We
haven't seen anything of _him_, either," added Sue. "Do you suppose
he's going to stay shut up and invisible all the time? Who do you
suppose he is, anyway, and doesn't it make you furious to think that the
Imp knows, or says she does, and that we don't?"
"There's Louis now," was Carol's only reply. "He's just come out to
shovel his walk," and she waved her own shovel to him in greeting.
In another moment Louis had strolled over to join them. He was of medium
height, a slenderly-built fellow, with short-cropped, wavy, chestnut
hair and fine brown eyes. He also possessed a smile that was peculiarly
winning.
"Hello, you strangers! I thought you'd be out this afternoon. Isn't it
ripping weather?" he greeted them. "Where's Dave?"
"He's gone to Bridgeton with Father," answered Sue, "but where have
_you_ been all this time? Not sick, I hope?"
The boy's face clouded and he dug his shovel viciously into a snowbank.
"No, not sick, but dilly-dallying around the house, helping to wait on
that old gentleman. They don't seem to care how much time I lose."
It was the first time the girls had ever heard him speak so bitterly.
"We heard that you had a visitor," said Carol, striving hard to seem
only politely interested.
"Oh, we have a visitor, all right, but I'm blest if I know why he's
taken up his abode with us, nor even who he is, for that matter."
At this rather astonishing statement both girls looked somewhat
startled.
"I know it sounds queer to say it," went on the boy, "and I'm not sure
they'd thank me for saying it, either, but it's the honest truth, and
I've got to say it to some one, or I'll explode with indignation."
"But what do you call him, if you don't know who he is?" queried Sue.
"Well, he _says_ his name is Monsieur de Vaubert, but I strongly doubt
it. I found his handkerchief lying on a chair yesterday, and it had the
initial F on it. Later I asked Aunt Yvonne what his first name was, and
she said 'Philippe.' So can you figure out where F comes in? I can't."
"All that Aunt and Uncle will tell me about him," he went on, "is that
he is a descendant of an old friend of my father's family in France;
that he has always been much interested in me and has come over here to
visit and make my acquaintance. It sounds all right as far as it goes,
but I'm morally certain that that isn't the whole of it. They treat him
as if he were some sort of high mogul, and he treats them in the most
politely condescending manner you ever saw. But the way he acts toward
me is a caution. In some ways you'd think I was the Grand Lama of Tibet,
and that he was my most humble slave. Then at other times he gets so
dictatorial about my studies and work and the way I spend my time that I
just have to hold on to something to prevent going up in the air. I
confess that I don't know what he's driving at, and I could chew his
head off sometimes, I get so mad. And yet in other ways he's a fine old
chap, and I can't help but admire him. Here he comes now. He said he
would come out a few moments this afternoon."
They all looked across the Green as he spoke, to see the figure of an
elderly gentleman, very much muffled up in a fur coat, slowly pacing
down the walk. He seemed about seventy-five years of age, and he walked
with a visible stoop, his hands clasped behind his back, his head bent
slightly forward. His eyes were black and piercing, and his hair and
mustache were almost white. His nose was sharp and eagle-like, and his
whole appearance was very distinguished and foreign. Both Sue and Carol
were decidedly impressed.
"Well," added Louis, "I must go back and be polite, I suppose, and also
shovel my walk. By the way, I'll be over at your house, Sue, to-morrow
evening, if it's convenient, and get some idea from you girls of what
I've been missing at high school all this week. Tell Dave I'll spend an
hour or two with him afterward. So long!"
After he had left them the girls went on with their shoveling, but they
could not, for the life of them, keep from gazing occasionally across at
the mysterious stranger on the other side of the Green. They saw Louis
return and speak to him for several moments, pacing along at his side,
and later he left him to commence a vigorous attack on an unshoveled
path.
Then they saw a curious thing. Monsieur de Vaubert, stopping short in
his pacing, stared almost aghast at Louis. Next, striding up to him and
snatching the shovel from his hand, he spoke loudly and rapidly in
French, as if in remonstrance. They heard Louis expostulating in the
same language and exhibiting every sign of disagreement and dismay. At
length he shrugged his shoulders hopelessly and turned to go into the
house, leaving Monsieur to continue his pacing alone.
"Well!" exclaimed Carol. "What on earth do you make of _that_?"
"It looks very much as if 'Monsieur' didn't approve of Louis's
snow-shoveling," commented Sue, wonderingly. "But why? Do you know, I
believe he thinks Louis is delicate and oughtn't to exert himself. What
a crazy idea! Louis is really as strong as an ox, even if he is slender.
He can throw Dave at wrestling every time, even if he is lighter in
weight. I can imagine how furious it must make Louis to be coddled that
way."
They went on digging industriously. Suddenly Carol whispered to Sue:
"For pity's sake, look at that!"
It was the Imp, who had evidently walked up from the village and was
just passing Louis's house. On beholding the visitor still pacing up and
down the walk in the sunlight, she had called out, "_Bon jour,
Monsieur!_" She had been answered by the most courtly of bows, and "_Bon
jour, petite Mademoiselle Hélène._" Then she passed on, turning the
corner of the Green toward her own house.
The two girls stared at each other, speechless.
"Will you tell me how under the sun she came to know him?" gasped Sue,
indignantly. "And she never has said a single word to us about it!"
"Don't ask me," returned Carol. "Find out from her, if you can. She's
the most exasperating mortal I ever came across."
The Imp came on gaily, waving to them as affably as if she were quite
unaware of the shock she had just given them. They did not acknowledge
her salute,--a mistake they were sorry for later.
"How long is it since you became acquainted with 'Monsieur'?" demanded
Sue, as soon as she had joined them. She did not try to keep annoyance
out of her voice.
"Oh, a whole twenty-four hours has elapsed since the event!" grinned the
Imp, more impishly than usual. "Didn't I tell you?"
"You know perfectly well that you didn't!" cried Sue.
"Well, I'm sorry,--since it seems to worry you so much. Louis introduced
us yesterday afternoon. We met just outside of Louis' gate. Monsieur was
taking the air just before the snow began, and, as it happened, so was
I. You two might have been, also, if you hadn't felt so lazy and hung
about the fire indoors." As usual, she had hit them on the raw. They
might have known it!
"I think he is quite charming," went on the Imp amiably. "We had a long
talk. He praised my French accent, and says that he prefers to call me
'Mademoiselle Hélène,' instead of 'Bobs' or 'Bobbie' or even 'Roberta.'
He asked me a lot of questions about this place and the village and all
that, and finally he told me why he came here."
"He _did_?" gasped the two girls. "What was the reason?" At that moment
they could have hugged her for seeming so communicative.
"I'll tell you," she answered with dangerous sweetness. "He came over to
see Louis!" Their faces fell, but they tried hard not to show their
indignation.
"Of course," agreed Sue, "but _why_ did he come over here to see Louis?
That's the question."
"If I told you _that_, I wouldn't have any interesting secret of my
own," answered the Imp loftily.
Then, feeling her revenge complete, she sped away into the house,
leaving the puzzled and indignant pair behind her.
January 20, 1914. Louis told us the _strangest_ thing to-night. I must
write about it before I go to bed. It makes this mystery about the queer
old gentleman at his house deeper and deeper. He came over (Louis, I
mean) to our house to-night, as he said he would yesterday. But he
seemed perfectly furious about something, and instead of wanting to
study, he said he'd just have to tell us what had happened, or burst.
Fortunately, Carol and I were alone. If the Imp had been around, I just
couldn't have stood having her hear everything that we did. She knows
too much already,--sometimes I think a great deal more than we
do,--about all this, and I'm glad to get ahead of her on something.
Anyhow, this is what Louis told us:
"This morning was the limit," he began. "I thought I'd take a spell at
working on that little motor-boat I'm building in the old feed-room at
the back of the barn. I haven't done much at it lately, because the
weather's been so cold. But to-day was mild, and I thought I could make
a lot of progress. You know I've saved up enough of my pocket-money for
the engine, and I'm going to send for it next month. Well, what must
Monsieur do, but trail out to the barn after me. I couldn't very well
prevent him, so I let him come along, but I didn't explain what I was
doing there till we got into the room.
"And, if you'll believe it, no sooner did he lay eyes on that cedar
hull, and realize that it was my work, than he flew into a towering
passion. He stamped around the room, muttering a lot of things in French
that even I couldn't understand, though I caught the expression, 'The
blood of that mechanic--_always_--_always!_' repeated several times. I
was simply speechless with astonishment, and just stood staring at him
open-mouthed.
"All of a sudden he raised his cane and hit the boat a horrible whack
right on the gunwale. It made a dent that I don't suppose any amount of
tinkering or painting will ever remove. Then I 'saw red,' as they say.
The idea of his presuming to do such a beastly thing! I just rushed at
him, tore the cane from his hand, and threw it straight through the
window. It smashed the glass and sash and everything. And I shouted,
'How dare you! How dare you!' I guess I was really too furious to think
what I was doing. But it had the strangest effect on Monsieur.
"He stopped suddenly, and his face, from being a brick-red with anger,
went perfectly white. He drew himself up in a sort of military way, as
stiff as a poker, and then bowed very low and made a military salute. 'I
beg a thousand pardons, Monsieur. I am deeply sorry!' he said. I asked
him what in the world he meant, anyway, but he only kept repeating that
he was 'deeply humiliated at his fit of temper,' and begged me to think
no more of it. Then I asked him if he didn't approve of my making the
boat, and he said, 'No; that I was cut out for something better than
that laborer's work.'
"That remark made me madder than ever, and I asked him if it was not a
good piece of work, and oughtn't any one to be proud of doing a thing
like that so well. He only replied that I had far other things to be
proud of, but I noticed that he didn't say what. So I just faced him.
"'Look here,' I said. 'Just tell me one thing, like a man, won't you?
What are you here for, anyway? Am I the descendant of some duke or
marquis or that sort of thing, and are you here to try to get me to go
back to France and be one myself?' You see, what Carol said the other
day sort of stuck in my crop, and that boat business rather confirmed
it. I went on to say to him, 'Because if that's so, you needn't bother.
I won't go!'
"He didn't say a word for a minute or two. He just stood staring at me
as if he'd never seen me before. Then he said, very quietly:
"'No, Monsieur. You are quite mistaken. It is something vastly
different, and I cannot explain it now. You must be content to wait.
But, be assured, it will both astonish and delight you when it is
disclosed.' And with that he walked off and took to his bed again, I
guess, for I haven't seen him since. But I've been 'hot under the
collar' ever since at the damage he did to my boat."
"Well, all that is mighty strange," I said, another idea suddenly
dawning on me. "He doesn't seem to want you to do any work. Was that why
he objected to you shoveling snow yesterday?"
"The very thing," replied Louis. "I was astonished when he said to me,
'Where is that Meadows and his servant? Why are you required to do this
menial work?' I tried to explain to him that I liked it and was doing it
for exercise, but he simply couldn't understand. He kept exclaiming, 'It
is not fitting!' till I got so disgusted that I gave it up. If this sort
of thing keeps up, I'll run away to sea or do something desperate. I
declare I will!"
"Are you glad, Louis, that you're not a duke or a marquis or anything
like that?" I asked. "I should think you'd have thought it fine."
"I'd simply detest it, Sue," he answered. "I don't want to be anything
but an American citizen--_ever!_ But if this mystery business doesn't
clear up soon, I'll be a raving lunatic."
Well, I'm disappointed myself to have Carol's nice theory all knocked to
pieces, for it would have been so romantic and unusual. But if it isn't
that, what on earth _can_ it be?
And _how_ much does that wretched little Imp know?