[Illustration]
Mr. Enderton's letter astonished and angered me, but in spite of my
indignation, I could not help smiling at the unexpected way in which he
had put a stop to the probable perpetual peregrinations of the
ginger-jar. I handed the letter to Mr. Dusante, and when he had read it
his face flushed, and I could see that he was very angry, although he
kept his temper under excellent control.
"Sir," he said presently, "this shall not be allowed. That jar, with its
contents, is my property until Mrs. Lecks has consented to receive it.
It is of my own option that I return it at all, and I have decided to
return it to Mrs. Lecks. Any one interfering with my intentions steps
entirely beyond the line of just and warrantable procedure. Sir, I shall
not go westward to-morrow morning, but, with my family, will accompany
you to Chicago, where I shall require Mr. Enderton to return to me my
property, which I shall then dispose of as I see fit. You must excuse
me, sir, if anything I have said regarding this gentleman with whom you
are connected has wounded your sensibilities."
"Oh, don't think of that," I exclaimed. "Pitch into Enderton as much as
you please, and you may be sure that I shall not object. When I took the
daughter to wife, I did not marry the father. But, of course, for my
wife's sake I hope this matter will not be made the subject of public
comment."
"You need have no fear of that," said Mr. Dusante; "and you will allow
me to remark that Mr. Enderton's wife must have been a most charming
lady."
"Why do you think so?" I asked.
"I judge so," he answered, with a bow, "from my acquaintance with Mrs.
Craig."
I now went immediately to Ruth, who, I found, knew nothing of what had
occurred, except that her father had gone on to Chicago in advance of
our party, and had had time only to bid her a hasty good-by. I made no
remarks on this haste, which would not allow Mr. Enderton to take leave
of us, but which gave him time to write a letter of some length; and as
Ruth knew nothing of this letter, I determined not to mention it to her.
Her father's sudden departure surprised her but little, for she told me
that he always liked to get to places before the rest of the party with
whom he might be journeying.
"Even when we go to church," she said, "he always walks ahead of the
rest of us. I don't understand why he likes to do so, but this is one of
his habits."
When I informed Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine of what had happened, they
fairly blazed.
"I don't know what Mr. Dusante calls it," exclaimed Mrs. Lecks, "but I
know what I call it."
"Yes, indeed!" cried Mrs. Aleshine, her round eyes sparkling with
excitement; "if that isn't ex-honesty, then he ain't no ex-missionary! I
pity the heathen he converted!"
"I'll convert him," said Mrs. Lecks, "if ever I lay eyes on him! Walkin'
away with a package with my name on it! He might as well take my gold
spectacles or my tortoise-shell comb!, I suppose there's no such thing
as ketchin' up with him, but I'll telegraph after him; an' I'll let him
know that if he dares to open a package of mine, I'll put the law on
him!"
"That's so," said Mrs. Aleshine. "You kin send telegraphs all along the
line to one station an' another for conductors to give to him in the
cars, an' directed to Mr. Enderton, a tall man with gray-mixed hair an'
a stolen bundle. That's the way they did in our place when Abram Marly's
wife fell into the cistern, an' he'd jus' took the cars to the city, an'
they telegraphed to him at five different stations to know where he'd
left the ladder."
"Which ain't a bad idea," said Mrs. Lecks, "though his name will be
enough on it without no description; an' I'll do that this minute, an'
find out about the stations from the clerk."
"You must be very careful," I said, "about anything of that kind, for
the telegrams will be read at the stations, and Mr. Enderton might be
brought into trouble in a way which we all should regret; but a
despatch may be worded so that he, and no one else, would understand
it."
"Very well," said Mrs. Lecks, "an' let's get at it; but I must say that
he don't deserve bein' saved no trouble, for I'm as sure as that I'm a
livin' woman that he never saved nobody else no trouble sence the first
minute he was born."
The following despatch was concocted and sent on to Bridger, to be
delivered to Mr. Enderton on the train:
The package you know of has been stolen. You will recognize the
thief. If he leaves it at Chicago hotel, let him go. If he
opens it, clap him in jail.
MRS. LECKS.
"I think that will make him keep his fingers off it," said Mrs. Lecks;
"an' if Mr. Dusante chooses to send somethin' of the same kind to some
other station, it won't do no harm. An' if that Enderton gets so skeered
that he keeps out of sight and hearin' of all of us, it'll be the best
thing that's happened yet. An' I want you to understan', Mr. Craig, that
nothin' 's goin' to be said or done to make your wife feel bad; an'
there's no need of her hearin' about what's been done or what's goin' to
be done. But I'll say for her that though, of course, Mr. Enderton is
her father, and she looks up to him as such, she's a mighty deal
livelier and gayer-hearted when he's away than when he's with her. An'
as for the rest of us, there's no use sayin' anything about our
resignedness to the loss of his company."
"I should say so," said Mrs. Aleshine; "for if there ever was a man who
thought of himself ninety-nine times before he thought of anybody else
once, an' then as like as not to forgit that once, he's the man. An'
it's not, by no means, that I'm down on missionaries, for it's many a
box I've made up for 'em, an' never begrudged neither money nor trouble,
an' will do it ag'in many times, I hope. But he oughtn't to be called
one, havin' given it up,—unless they gave him up, which there's no
knowin' which it was,—for if there's anything which shows the good in a
man, it's his bein' willin' to give up the comforts of a Christian land
an' go an' convert heathens; though bein' willin' to give up the
heathens an' go for the comforts shows him quite different, besides, as
like as not, chargin' double, an' only half convertin'."
Mr. Dusante was fully determined to go on with us until he had recovered
possession of the ginger-jar. His courteous feelings toward Mrs. Craig
and myself prevented his saying much about Mr. Enderton, but I had good
reason to believe that his opinions in regard to my father-in-law were
not very different from those of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine. Ever
since Mr. Enderton had shown his petulant selfishness, when obliged to
give up his room at the railroad-station for the use of the women of his
party, Mr. Dusante had looked upon him coldly, and the two had had but
little to say to each other.
We were all very glad that our pleasant party was not to be broken up;
and although there was no resignation at the absence of the ginger-jar,
we started on our journey the next day in a pleasanter mood for the
absence of Mr. Enderton. Before we left, Mr. Dusante sent a telegram to
Kearney Junction, to be delivered to Mr. Enderton when he arrived
there. What this message was I do not know, but I imagine its tone was
decided.
Our journey to Chicago was a pleasant one. We had now all become very
well acquainted with each other, and there was no discordant element in
the combined party. Some of us were a little apprehensive of trouble, or
annoyance at least, awaiting us in Chicago, but we did not speak of it;
and while Ruth knew nothing of her father's misbehavior, it might have
been supposed that the rest had forgotten it.
At Chicago we went at once to Brandiger's Hotel, and there we found,
instead of Mr. Enderton, a letter from him to Ruth. It read as follows:
MY DEAR DAUGHTER: I have determined not to wait here, as
originally intended, but to go on by myself. I am sorry not to
meet you here, but it will not be long before we are together
again, and you know I do not like to travel with a party. Its
various members always incommode me in one way or another. I
had proposed to go to Philadelphia and wait for you there, but
have since concluded to stop at Meadowville, a village in the
interior of Pennsylvania, where, as they have informed me, the
two women, Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, reside. I wish to see
the party all together before I take final leave of them, and I
suppose the two women will not consent to go any farther than
the country town in which they live. Inclosed is a note to your
husband relating to business matters. I hope that he will take
the best of care of you during the rest of the journey, and
thus very much oblige
YOUR AFFECTIONATE FATHER.
This was my note:
MR. CRAIG. SIR: I should have supposed that you would have been
able to prevent the insolent messages which have been
telegraphed to me from some members of your party, but it is
my lot to be disappointed in those in whom I trust. I shall
make no answer to these messages, but will say to you that I am
not to be browbeaten in my intention to divide among its
rightful claimants the money now in my possession. It is not
that I care for the comparatively paltry sum that will fall to
myself and my daughter, but it is the principle of the matter
for which I am contending. It was due to me that the amount
should have been returned to me, and to no other, that I might
make the proper division. I therefore rest upon my principles
and my rights; and, desiring to avoid needless altercations,
shall proceed to Meadowville, where, when the rest of my party
arrive, I shall justly apportion the money. I suppose the man
Dusante will not be foolish enough to protract his useless
journey farther than Chicago. It is your duty to make him see
the impropriety of so doing. Yours, etc.,
D. J. ENDERTON.
Ruth's letter was shown to all the party, and mine in private to Mr.
Dusante, Mrs. Lecks, and Mrs. Aleshine. When the first moments of
astonishment were over, Mrs. Lecks exclaimed:
"Well, after all, I don't know that I'm so very sorry that the old sneak
has done this, for now we're rid of him for the rest of the trip; and
I'm pretty certain, from the way he writes, that he hasn't dipped into
that jar yet. We've skeered him from doin' that."
"But the impidence of him!" said Mrs. Aleshine. "Think of his goin' to
the very town where we live an' gittin' there fust! He'll be settin' on
that tavern porch, with every loafer in the place about him, an' tellin'
'em the whole story of what happened to us from beginnin' to end, till
by the time we git there it'll be all over the place an' as stale as
last week's bread."
"'The man Dusante,'" quietly remarked that individual, "will not
abandon the purpose of his journey. He left his island to place in the
hands of Mrs. Lecks, on behalf of her party, the ginger-jar with the
money inclosed. He will therefore go on with you to Meadowville, and
will there make formal demand, and, if necessary, legal requisition, for
the possession of that jar and that money; after which he will proceed
to carry out his original intentions."
[Illustration: "'THE IMPIDENCE OF HIM!'"]
We all expressed our pleasure at having him, with his ladies, as
companions for the remainder of our journey, and Mrs. Lecks immediately
offered them the hospitalities of her house for as long a time as they
might wish to stay with her.
"The weather there," she said, "is often splendid till past Thanksgivin'
day, an' nobody could be welcomer than you."
"I'd have asked you myself," said Mrs. Aleshine, "if Mrs. Lecks hadn't
done it,—which of course she would, bein' alive,—but I'm goin' to have
Mr. Craig an' his wife, an' as our houses is near, we'll see each other
all the time. An' if Mr. Enderton chooses to stay awhile at the tavern,
he can come over to see his daughter whenever he likes. I'll go as fur
as that, though no further can I go. I'm not the one to turn anybody
from my door, be he heathen, or jus' as bad, or wuss. But tea once, or
perhaps twice, is all that I can find it in my heart to offer that man
after what he's done."
As the Dusantes and Ruth expressed a desire to see something of Chicago,
where they had never been before, we remained in this city for two days,
feeling that, as Mr. Enderton would await our coming, there was no
necessity for haste.
Early in the afternoon of the second day I went into the parlor of the
hotel, where I expected to find our party prepared for a sight-seeing
excursion; but I found the room tenanted only by Mrs. Aleshine, who was
sitting with her bonnet and wraps on, ready to start forth. I had said
but a few words to her when Mrs. Lecks entered, without bonnet or shawl,
and with her knitting in her hand. She took a seat in a large
easy-chair, put on her spectacles, and proceeded to knit.
"Mrs. Lecks!" exclaimed her friend, in surprise, "don't you intend goin'
out this afternoon?"
"No," said Mrs. Lecks. "I've seen all I want to see, an' I'm goin' to
stay in the house an' keep quiet."
"Isn't Mr. Dusante goin' out this afternoon?" asked Mrs. Aleshine.
Mrs. Lecks laid her knitting in her lap; then she took off her
spectacles, folded them, and placed them beside the ball of yarn, and,
turning her chair around, she faced her friend. "Barb'ry Aleshine," said
she, speaking very deliberately, "has any such a thing got into your
mind as that I'm settin' my cap at Mr. Dusante?"
"I don't say you have, an' I don't say you haven't," answered Mrs.
Aleshine, her fat hands folded on her knees, and her round face shining
from under her new bonnet with an expression of hearty good will; "but
this I will say,—an' I don't care who hears it,—that if you was to set
your cap at Mr. Dusante, there needn't nobody say anythin' ag'in' it, so
long as you are content. He isn't what I'd choose for you, if I had the
choosin', for I'd git one with an American name an' no islands. But
that's neither here nor there, for you're a grown woman an' can do your
own choosin'. An' whether there's any choosin' to be done is your own
business, too, for it's full eleven years sence you've been done with
widder fixin's; an' if Mr. Lecks was to rise up out of his grave this
minute, he couldn't put his hand on his heart an' say that you hadn't
done your full duty by him, both before an' after he was laid away. An'
so, if you did want to do choosin', an' made up your mind to set your
cap at Mr. Dusante, there's no word to be said. Both of you is ripe-aged
an' qualified to know your own minds, an' both of you is well off
enough, to all intents an' purposes, to settle down together, if so
inclined. An' as to his sister, I don't expect she will be on his hands
for long. An' if you can put up with an adopted mother-in-law, that's
your business, not mine; though I allus did say, Mrs. Lecks, that if
you'd been 'Piscopalian, you'd been Low-church."
"Is that all?" said Mrs. Lecks.
"Yes," replied the other; "it's all I have to say jus' now, though more
might come to me if I gave my mind to it."
"Well, then," said Mrs. Lecks, "I've somethin' to say on this p'int, and
I'm very glad Mr. Craig is here to hear it. If I had a feelin' in the
direction of Mr. Dusante that he was a man, though not exactly what I
might wish, havin' somethin' of foreign manners, with ties in the
Sandwich Islands, which I shouldn't have had so if I'd had the orderin'
of it, who was still a Christian gentleman,—as showed by his acts, not
his words,—a lovin' brother, an' a kind an' attentive son by his own
adoption, and who would make me a good husband for the rest of our two
lives, then I'd go and I'd set my cap at him—not bold nor flauntin' nor
unbecomin' to a woman of my age, but just so much settin' of it at him
that if he had any feelin's in my direction, and thought, although it
was rather late in life for him to make a change, that if he was goin'
to do it he'd rather make that change with a woman who had age enough,
and experience enough, in downs as well as ups, and in married life as
well as single, to make him feel that as he got her so he'd always find
her, then I say all he'd have to do would be to come to me an' say what
he thought, an' I'd say what I thought, an' the thing would be settled,
an' nobody in this world need have one word to say, except to wish us
joy, an' then go along and attend to their own business.
"But now I say to you, Barb'ry Aleshine, an' just the same to you, Mr.
Craig, that I haven't got no such feelin's in the direction of Mr.
Dusante, an' I don't intend to set my cap at him; an' if he wore such a
thing, and set it at me, I'd say to him, kind, though firm, that he
could put it straight again as far as I was concerned, an' that if he
chose to set it at any other woman, if the nearest an' dearest friend I
have on earth, I'd do what I could to make their married lives as happy
as they could be under the circumstances, and no matter what happened, I
wouldn't say one word, though I might think what I pleased. An' now you
have it, all straight and plain: if I wanted to set caps, I'd set 'em;
and if I didn't want to set 'em, I wouldn't. I don't want to, and I
don't."
And, putting on her spectacles, she resumed her knitting.
Mrs. Aleshine turned upon her friend a beaming face.
"Mrs. Lecks," she said, "your words has lifted a load from off my mind.
It wouldn't ha' broke me down, an' you wouldn't never have knowed I
carried it; but it's gone, an' I'm mighty glad of it. An' as for me an'
my cap,—an' when you spoke of nearest and dearest friends you couldn't
mean nobody but me,—you needn't be afraid. No matter what I was, nor
what he was, nor what I thought of him, nor what he thought of me, I
couldn't never say to my son, when he comes to his mother's arms all the
way from Japan: 'George, here's a Frenchman who I give to you for a
father!'"
Here I burst out laughing; but Mrs. Lecks gravely remarked: "Now I hope
this business of cap-settin' is settled an' done with."
"Which it is," said Mrs. Aleshine, as she rose to meet the rest of our
party as they entered the room.
For several days I could not look upon the dignified and almost courtly
Mr. Dusante without laughing internally, and wondering what he would
think if he knew how, without the slightest provocation on his side, a
matrimonial connection with him had been discussed by these good women,
and how the matter had been finally settled. I think he would have
considered this the most surprising incident in the whole series of his
adventures.
On our journey from Chicago to the little country town in the interior
of Pennsylvania we made a few stops at points of interest for the sake
of Ruth and the Dusante ladies, Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine generously
consenting to these delays, although I knew they felt impatient to reach
their homes. They were now on most social terms with Mrs. Dusante, and
the three chatted together like old friends.
"I asked her if we might call her Emily," said Mrs. Aleshine in
confidence to me, "an' she said yes, an' we're goin' to do it. I've all
along wanted to, because it seemed to come nat'ral, considerin' we
knowed 'em as Emily and Lucille before we set eyes on 'em. But as long
as I had that load on my mind about Mrs. Lecks and Mr. Dusante I
couldn't 'Emily' his adopted mother. My feelin's wouldn't ha' stood it.
But now it's all right; an' though Emily isn't the woman I expected her
to be, Lucille is the very picter of what I thought she was. And as for
Emily, I never knowed a nicer-mannered lady, an' more willin' to learn
from people that's had experience, than she is."
We arrived at Meadowville early in the afternoon, and when our party
alighted from the train we were surprised not to see Mr. Enderton on the
platform of the little station. Instead of him, there stood three
persons whose appearance amazed and delighted us. They were the
red-bearded coxswain and the two sailormen, all in neat new clothes, and
with their hands raised in maritime salute.
There was a cry of joy. Mrs. Aleshine dropped her bag and umbrella, and
rushed toward them with outstretched hands. In a moment Mrs. Lecks,
Ruth, and myself joined the group, and greeted warmly our nautical
companions of the island.
The Dusante party, when they were made acquainted with the mariners,
were almost as much delighted as we were, and Mr. Dusante expressed in
cordial words his pleasure in meeting the other members of the party to
whom his island had given refuge.
"I am so glad to see you," said Mrs. Aleshine, "that I don't know my
bonnet from my shoes! But how, in the name of all that's wonderful, did
you get here?"
"'T ain't much of a story," said the coxswain, "an' this is just the
whole of it. When you left us at 'Frisco we felt pretty downsome, an'
the more that way because we couldn't find no vessel that we cared to
ship on; an' then there come to town the agent of the house that owned
our brig, and we was paid off for our last v'yage. Then, when we had
fitted ourselves out with new togs, we began to think different about
this shippin' on board a merchant-vessel, an' gettin' cussed at, an'
livin' on hard-tack an' salt prog, an' jus' as like as not the ship
springin' a leak an' all hands pumpin' night an' day, an' goin' to Davy
Jones, after all. An' after talkin' this all over, we was struck hard on
the weather-bow with a feelin' that it was a blamed sight
better—beggin' your pardon, ma'am—to dig garden-beds in nice soft
dirt, an' plant peas, an' ketch fish, an' all that kind of shore work,
an' eatin' them good things you used to cook for us, Mrs. Aleshine, and
dancin' hornpipes for ye, and tamin' birds when our watch was off.
Wasn't that so, Jim an' Bill?"
"Aye, aye, sir!" said the black-bearded sailormen.
"Then says I, 'Now look here, mates; don't let's go and lark away all
this money, but take it an' make a land trip to where Mrs. Aleshine
lives'—which port I had the name of on a piece of paper which you gave
me, ma'am."
And here Mrs. Aleshine nodded vigorously, not being willing to interrupt
this entrancing story.
"'An' if she's got another garden, an' wants it dug in, an' things
planted, an' fish caught, an' any other kind of shore work done, why,
we're the men for her; an' we'll sign the papers for as long a v'yage as
she likes, and stick by her in fair weather or foul, bein' good for day
work an' night work, an' allus ready to fall in when she passes the
word.' Ain't that so, Jim an' Bill?"
"Aye, aye, sir!" returned the sailormen, with sonorous earnestness.
"Upon my word!" cried Mrs. Aleshine, tears of joy running down her
cheeks, "them papers shall be signed, if I have to work night an' day to
find somethin' for you to do. I've got a man takin' keer of my place
now; but many a time have I said to myself that if I had anybody I could
trust to do the work right, I'd buy them two fields of Squire Ramsey's,
an' go into the onion business. An' now you sailormen has come like
three sea angels, an' if it suits you we'll go into the onion business
on sheers."
"That suits us tiptop, ma'am," said the coxswain; "an' we'll plant
inyans for ye on the shears, on the stocks, or in the dry-dock. It don't
make no dif'rence to us where you have 'em; just pass the word."
"Well, well," said Mrs. Lecks, "I don't know how that's goin' to work,
but we won't talk about it now. An' so you came straight on to this
place?"
"That did we, ma'am," said the coxswain. "An' when we got here we found
the parson, but none of you folks. That took us aback a little at fust,
but he said he didn't live here, an' you was comin' pretty soon. An' so
we took lodgin's at the tavern, an' for three days we've been down here
to meet every train, expectin' you might be on it."
Our baggage had been put on the platform, the train had moved on, and we
had stood engrossed in the coxswain's narrative; but now I thought it
necessary to make a move. There was but one small vehicle to hire at the
station. This would hold but two persons, and in it I placed Mrs.
Dusante and Ruth, the first being not accustomed to walking, and the
latter very anxious to meet her father. I ordered the man to drive them
to the inn, where we would stay until Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine'
should get their houses properly aired and ready for our reception.
"Mrs. Craig will be glad to get to the tavern and see her father," said
Mrs. Aleshine. "I expect he forgot all about its bein' time for the
train to come."
"Bless you, ma'am!" exclaimed the coxswain, "is she gone to the tavern?
The parson's not there!"
"Where is he, then?" asked Mrs. Aleshine.
"He's at your house, ma'am," replied the coxswain.
"An' what, in the name of common sense, is he doin' at my house?"
exclaimed Mrs. Aleshine, her eyes sparkling with amazement and
indignation.
"Well, ma'am, for one thing," said the coxswain, "he's had the front
door painted."
"What!" cried Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, in one breath.
"Yes," continued the coxswain; "the parson said he hated to see men
hangin' around doin' nothin'. An' then he looked about, an' said the
paint was all wore off the front door, an' we might as well go to work
an' paint that; an' he sent Jim to a shop to git the paint an'
brushes—"
"An' have 'em charged to me?" cried Mrs. Aleshine.
"Yes, ma'am," continued the coxswain. "An' Jim an' Bill holystoned all
the old paint off the door, an' I painted it, havin' done lots of that
sort of thing on shipboard; an' I think it's a pretty good job,
ma'am—red at top and bottom, an' white in the middle, like a steamer's
smoke-stack."
Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine looked at each other. "An' he told you to
do that?" said Mrs. Lecks.
"Yes, ma'am," answered the coxswain. "The parson said he never liked to
be nowhere without doin' what good he could. An' there was some other
paintin' he talked of havin' done, but we ain't got at it yet. I s'posed
he was actin' under your orders, an' I hope I haven't done no wrong,
ma'am."
"You're not a bit to blame," said Mrs. Aleshine; "but I'll look into
this thing. No fear about that! An' how did he come to go to my house?
An' how did he get in, I'd like to know?"
"All I know about that," said the coxswain, "is what the gal that's
livin' there told me, which she did along of askin' us if we was comin'
to live there too, an' if she should rig up beds for us somewhere in the
top-loft; but we told her no, not havin' no orders, an' payin' our own
way at the tavern. She said, said she, that the parson come there, an'
'lowed he was a friend of Mrs. Aleshine's an' travelin' with her, an'
that if she was at home she wouldn't let him stay at no tavern; an'
that, knowin' her wishes, he'd come right there, an' 'spected to be took
care of till she come. She said she felt uncertain about it, but she
tuck him in till she could think it over, an' then we come an' certified
that he was the parson who'd been along with Mrs. Aleshine an' the rest
of us. Arter that she thought it was all right, an', beggin' your pardon
if we was wrong, so did Jim an' Bill an' me, ma'am."
"Now," exclaimed Mrs. Aleshine, "if that isn't exactly like Elizabeth
Grootenheimer! To think of Elizabeth Grootenheimer thinkin'! The
Grootenheimers always was the dumbest family in the township, an'
Elizabeth Grootenheimer is the dumbest of 'em all! I did say to myself,
when I went away: 'Now, Elizabeth Grootenheimer is so stone dumb that
she'll jus' stay here an' do the little I tell her to do, an' hasn't
sense enough to get into no mischief.' An' now, look at her!"
[Illustration]
She waved her hand in the direction of the invisible Elizabeth
Grootenheimer.
Mrs. Lecks had said very little during this startling communication, but
her face had assumed a stern and determined expression. Now she spoke:
"I guess we've heard about enough, an' we'd better be steppin' along an'
see what else Mr. Enderton an' Elizabeth Grootenheimer is doin'."
The homes of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine were not far from each other,
and were situated about midway between the station and the village inn,
and in the direction of these our party now started. Mrs. Aleshine,
contrary to her custom, took the lead, and walked away with strides of
unusual length. Mrs. Lecks was close behind her, followed by the two
Dusantes and myself, while the three mariners, who insisted upon
carrying all the hand-baggage, brought up the rear. We stepped quickly,
for we were all much interested in what might happen next; and very soon
we reached Mrs. Aleshine's house. It was a good-sized and
pleasant-looking dwelling, painted white, with green shutters, and with
a long covered piazza at the front. Between the road and the house was a
neat yard with grass and flower-beds, and from the gate of the
picket-fence in front of the yard a brick-paved path led up to the
house.
Our approach had been perceived, for on the piazza, in front of the
gaily painted door, stood Mr. Enderton, erect, and with a bland and
benignant smile upon his face. One hand was stretched out as if in
welcome, and with the other he gracefully held the ginger-jar, now
divested of its wrappings.
At this sight Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine made a simultaneous dash at
the gate; but it was locked. The two women stamped their feet in fury.
"Put down that jar!" shouted Mrs. Lecks.
"Elizabeth Grootenheimer! Elizabeth Grootenheimer!" screamed Mrs.
Aleshine. "Come here and open this gate."
"Break it down!" said Mrs. Lecks, turning to the sailors.
"Don't you do it!" exclaimed Mrs. Aleshine, throwing herself in front of
it. "Don't you break my gate! Elizabeth Grootenheimer!"
"My friends," said Mr. Enderton, in clear, distinct tones, "be calm. I
have the key of that gate in my pocket. I locked it because I feared
that on your first arrival you would hurry up to the house in a
promiscuous way, and give heed to irrelevant matters. I wished to
address you in a body, and in a position where your attention would not
be diverted from me. I hold here, my friends, the receptacle containing
the money which, under a misapprehension, was paid for our board while
on a desert island. This money I have taken care of, and have carefully
guarded for the benefit of us all. Unfortunately, objections have arisen
to this guardianship, which were forwarded to me by telegraph; but I
have not heeded them. If you cannot see for yourselves the propriety of
my assumption of this trust, I will not now undertake to enlighten you.
But I hope there is no necessity for this, for, having had time to give
the matter your fullest attention, I doubt not that you entirely agree
with me. I will merely add, for I see you are impatient, that the sum
which will fall to the share of each of us is comparatively
insignificant and in itself not worth striving for; but what I have done
has been for the sake of principle. For the sake of principle I have
insisted that this money should be received by its rightful owners; for
the sake of principle I assumed the custody of it; and for the sake of
principle I shall now empty the contents of this jar—which by me has
not been examined or touched—upon the floor of this piazza, and I shall
then proceed to divide said contents into five suitable portions—the
three mariners, as I understand, having paid no board. The gate can then
be opened, and each one can come forward and take the portion which
belongs to him or to her. The portion of my daughter, whom I saw pass
here in a carriage, going, doubtless, to the inn, will be taken charge
of by myself."
"You man!" shrieked Mrs. Lecks, shaking her fist over the fence, "if you
as much as lift that paper of fish-hooks from out the top of that
ginger-jar, I'll—"
Here she was interrupted by the loud, clear voice of Mr. Dusante, who
called out: "Sir, I require you to put down that jar, which is my
property."
"I'll let you know," said Mrs. Lecks, "that other people have
principles!"
But what more she said was drowned by the voice of Mrs. Aleshine, who
screamed for Elizabeth Grootenheimer, and who was now so much excited
that she was actually trying to break open her own gate.
I called out to Mr. Enderton not to make trouble by disturbing the
contents of the jar; and even Miss Lucille, who was intensely amused at
the scene, could be heard joining her voice to the general clamor.
But the threats and demands of our united party had no effect upon Mr.
Enderton. He stood up, serene and bland, fully appreciating the
advantage of having the key of the gate's padlock in his pocket and the
ginger-jar in his hand.
[Illustration: "'YOU MAN!' SHRIEKED MRS. LECKS."]
"I will now proceed," said he. But at that moment his attention was
attracted by the three mariners, who had clambered over the pointed
pales of the fence, and who now appeared on the piazza, Bill to the
right hand of Mr. Enderton, Jim to the left, and the red-bearded
coxswain at his back. They all seemed to speak at once, though what they
said we could not hear, nothing but a few hoarse mutterings coming down
to us.
But in consequence of what Bill said, Mr. Enderton handed him the key of
the gate; and in consequence of what Jim said, Mr. Enderton delivered to
him the ginger-jar; and in consequence of what the coxswain said, he and
Mr. Enderton walked off the piazza; and the two proceeded to a distant
corner of the yard, where they stood out of the way, as it were, while
the gate was opened. Bill bungled a little, but the padlock was soon
removed, and we all hurried through the gate and up to the piazza, where
Jim still stood, the ginger-jar held reverently in his hands.
The coxswain now left Mr. Enderton, and that gentleman proceeded to the
open gate, through which he passed into the road, and then turned, and
in a loud and severe tone addressed Mrs. Aleshine:
"I leave your inhospitable house, and go to join my daughter at the inn,
where I request you to send my valise and umbrella as soon as possible."
Mrs. Aleshine's indignation at this invasion of her home and this
trampling on her right to open her own gate had entirely driven away her
accustomed geniality, and in angry tones she cried:
"Jus' you stop at that paint-shop, when you git to the village, an' pay
for the paint you had charged to me; an' when you've done that you can
send for your things."
"Come, now, Barb'ry," said Mrs. Lecks, "don't let your feelin's run away
with you. You ought to be thankful that he's let you off so easy, an'
that he's gone."
"I'm all that," said Mrs. Aleshine; "an', on second thoughts, every
whip-stitch of his bag and baggage shall be trundled after him as soon
as I kin git it away."
We all now stood upon the piazza, and Mrs. Aleshine, in calmer tones,
but with her face still flushed from her recent excitement, turned to us
and said: "Now, isn't this a pretty comin' home? My front gate fastened
in my very face; my front door painted red and white; the inside of the
house, as like as not, turned upside down by that man jus' as much as
the outside; an' where in the world, I'd like to know, is Elizabeth
Grootenheimer?"
"Now don't you be too hard on her," said Mrs. Lecks, "after havin' been
away from her so long. I haven't a doubt she's feedin' the pigs; and you
know very well she never would leave them as long as she felt they
needed her. You needn't mind if your house is upset, for none of us is
comin' in, havin' only intended to see you to your door, which I must
say is a pretty blazin' one."
"And now, Mrs. Lecks," said Mr. Dusante, taking, as he spoke, the
ginger-jar from the hand of Jim, "I think this is a suitable opportunity
for me to accomplish the object for which my present journey was
undertaken, and to return to you the contents of this jar."
"Which," said Mrs. Lecks, in a very decided tone, "I don't take now no
more'n I did before."
Mr. Dusante looked surprised and troubled. After all the dangers and
adventures through which that ginger-jar had gone, I believe that he
expected Mrs. Lecks would at last relent and consent to accept it from
him.
"Now, look here," said Mrs. Aleshine, "don't let us have any more fuss
about the ginger-jar, or anything else. Let's put off talkin' about that
till we're all settled and fixed. It won't do for you to take the jar to
the tavern with you, Mr. Dusante, for like as not Mr. Enderton will git
hold of it ag'in, an' I know Mrs. Lecks won't let it come into her
house; so, if you like, you may jus' leave it here for the present, and
you may make up your minds nobody'll touch it while I'm about. An' about
I intend to be."
This arrangement was gladly agreed upon, and the jar being delivered to
Mrs. Aleshine, we took our leave of her.
Mrs. Lecks found no difficulty in entering her gate, where she was duly
welcomed by a man and his wife she had left in charge, while the
Dusantes and myself walked on to the inn, or "Hotel," as its sign
imported, about which the greater part of the little town clustered. The
three mariners remained behind to await further orders from Mrs.
Aleshine.
By the afternoon of the next day the abodes of those two most energetic
and capable housewives, Mrs. Lecks and Mrs. Aleshine, were fully
prepared for the reception of their visitors, and the Dusante family
were ensconced beneath the roof of the one, while my wife and I were
most warmly welcomed at the gaily adorned door of the other.
Mr. Enderton remained at the inn, where he found very comfortable
quarters, an arrangement satisfactory to all parties.
In Mrs. Aleshine's dwelling, where, from the very first, Lucille took
her position as a most constant visitor, being equally welcomed by Ruth
and the mistress of the house, all was satisfaction and high good humor.
The ceaseless activity and cheerful spirits of our hostess seemed to
animate us all. At Mrs. Lecks's home the case was different. There, I
could plainly see, there was a certain uneasiness amounting almost to
stiffness between Mrs. Lecks and Mr. Dusante. The latter had not
accomplished the purpose for which he had made this long journey; and
though, if things had turned out as he wished, he would have been very
glad to be the guest of Mrs. Lecks, still, under the present
circumstances, the situation did not suit him. Mrs. Lecks, too,
possessed an unsettled mind. She did not know when Mr. Dusante would
again endeavor to force back upon her the board money in the ginger-jar,
and in this state of uneasy expectancy she was not at her best.
"He's not satisfied," said she to me, on the morning after the Dusantes
had come to her; "he wants to do somethin', or else to go away. I wish
that ginger-jar had dropped into the bottom of the sea while he was
bringin' it, or else had smashed itself into a thousand bits while he
was slidin' down the mountain, and the money had melted itself into the
snow. S'posin' at the end of the week he was to come to me and offer to
pay me board for himself and his family, sayin' that was no more than
I'd done to him! Of course the two cases are not a bit alike; for we
went to his house strangers, without leave or license, while he comes to
mine as a friend, bein' fully invited and pressed. But I don't suppose I
could make him see it in that light, and it worries me."
I was convinced that something ought to be done to end this unpleasant
state of affairs, and I took my wife and Miss Lucille into council on
the subject. After we had deliberated a little while an idea came to
Ruth.
"In my opinion," said she, "the best thing we can do with that board
money is to give it to those three sailors. They are poor and will be
glad to get it; Mr. Dusante and Mrs. Lecks ought to be fully satisfied,
for the one doesn't keep it and the other doesn't take it back; and I'm
sure that this plan will please all the rest of us."
This proposition was agreed to by the council, and I was appointed to go
immediately and lay it before the parties interested.
Mr. Dusante gave his ready consent to this proposal. "It is not what I
intended to do," said he, "but it amounts to almost the same thing. The
money is in fact restored to its owners, and they agree to make a
certain disposition of it. I am satisfied."
Mrs. Lecks hesitated a little. "All right," said she. "He takes the
money and gives it to who he chooses. I've nothin' to say against it."
Of course no opposition to the plan was to be expected from anybody
else, except Mr. Enderton. But when I mentioned it to him, I found, to
my surprise, that he was not unwilling to agree to it. Half closing the
book he had been reading, he said: "What I have done was on behalf of
principle. I did not believe, and do not believe, that upon an entirely
deserted island money should be paid for board. I paid it under protest,
and I do not withdraw that protest. According to all the laws of justice
and hospitality, the man who owned that island should not retain that
money, and Mrs. Lecks had no right to insist upon such retention. But if
it is proposed to give the sum total to three mariners who paid no
board, and to whom the gift is an absolute charity, I am content. To be
sure, they interfered with me at a moment when I was about to make a
suitable settlement of the matter, but I have no doubt they were told to
do so; and I must admit that while they carried out their orders with a
certain firmness, characteristic of persons accustomed to unreasoning
obedience, they treated me with entire respect. If equal respect had
been shown to me at the beginning of these disputes, it would have been
much better for all concerned."
And opening his book, he recommenced his reading.
That afternoon all of us, except Mr. Enderton, assembled on Mrs.
Aleshine's piazza to witness the presentation of the board money. The
three sailors, who had been informed of the nature of the proceedings,
stood in line on the second step of the piazza, clad in their best
toggery, and with their new tarpaulin hats in their hands. Mrs. Aleshine
went into the house, and soon reappeared carrying the ginger-jar, which
she presented to Mr. Dusante. That gentleman took it, and stood holding
it for a moment as if he were about to speak; but even if he had
intended to say anything, he had no further opportunity, for Mrs. Lecks
now stepped forward and addressed him.
"Mr. Dusante," said she, "from what I have seen of you myself and heard
tell of you from others, I believe you are a man who tries to do his
duty, as he sees it, with a single heart and no turnin' from one side to
the other. You made up your mind that you'd travel over the whole world,
if it had to be done, with that ginger-jar and the board money inside of
it, till you'd found the people who'd been livin' in your house; and
then that you'd give back that jar, jus' as you'd found it, to the
person who took upon herself the overseein' of the reg'lar payin' of the
money and the puttin' of it therein. With that purpose in your mind you
carried that jar over the ocean; you wandered with it up and down
California; and holdin' it tight fast in your arms, you slid down the
slipperiest mountain that was ever made yet, I believe, and if it had
been your only infant child, you couldn't have held it firmer, nor
regarded it more careful. Through ups and downs, and thicks and smooths,
you carried that jar or followed it, and for the sake of doin' what
you'd set your mind on you came all the way to this place; to which, if
it hadn't been for that one idea, it isn't likely you'd ever dreamed of
comin'. Now, Mr. Dusante, we've all agreed on what we think is the right
thing to do, and you agreed with us, but I can see by your face that
you're disapp'inted. The thing you set out to do you haven't done; and
I'm not goin' to have it to say to myself that you was the only one of
all of us that wasn't satisfied, and that I was the stumblin'-block
that stood in your way. So I'll back down from sayin' that I'd never
touch that jar again, and you can put it into my hands, as you set out
to do."
Mr. Dusante made no answer, but stepped forward, and taking Mrs. Lecks's
large brown and work-worn hand, he respectfully touched it with his
lips. It is not probable that Mrs. Lecks's hand had ever before been
kissed. It is not probable that she had ever seen any one kiss the hand
of another. But the hard sense and keen insight of that independent
countrywoman made her instantly aware of what was meant by that
old-fashioned act of courteous homage. Her tall form grew more erect;
she slightly bowed her head, and received the salute with a quiet
dignity which would have become a duchess.
This little scene touched us all, and Mrs. Aleshine afterward informed
me that for a moment she hadn't a dry eye in her head.
Mr. Dusante now handed the ginger-jar to Mrs. Lecks, who immediately
stepped toward Ruth and Lucille.
"You two young ones," she said, "can jus' take this jar, an' your hands
can be the first to lift off that paper of fish-hooks and take out the
money, which you will then divide among our good friends, these
sailormen."
Ruth and Lucille immediately sat down on the floor of the piazza, and
the one emptied the board money into the lap of the other, where it was
speedily divided into three equal portions, one of which was placed in
the hands of each mariner.
The men stood motionless, each holding his money in his open right
hand, and then the red-bearded coxswain spoke.
"It ain't for me, nor for Bill, nor for Jim nuther, to say a word ag'in'
what you all think is right and square. We've stood by ye an' obeyed
orders since we first shipped on that island, an' we intend to do so
straight along. Don't we, Jim an' Bill?"
[Illustration: "HE RESPECTFULLY TOUCHED IT WITH HIS LIPS."]
"Aye, aye, sir!" said Jim and Bill, in hearty hoarse response.
"There's some of ye, specially Mrs. Aleshine, though meanin' no
disrespec' to anybody else, that we'd follow to the crosstrees of the
topgallantmast of the tallest ship that ever floated in the middle of
the ragin'est typhoon that ever blowed. Wouldn't we, Jim an' Bill?"
"Aye, aye, sir!" sang out Jim and Bill.
"But though we stand ready to obey orders," said the coxswain, "we made
up our minds, when we heard what was goin' to be done, that we'd listen
keerful fer one thing, an' we have listened keerful, an' we haven't
heard that one thing, an' that thing was what we should do with this
money. An' not havin' heard it, an' so bein' under no orders as to the
spendin' of it, we take the money, an' thank you kindly, one an' all.
Don't we, Jim an' Bill?"
"Aye, aye, sir!" said Jim and Bill.
And into the pocket of each mariner clinked the money.
Mr. Dusante now took up the ginger-jar, and approached Mrs. Lecks. "I
hope, madam," he said, "that as the subject of our little differences
has now been removed from this jar, you will consent to accept it from
me as a memento of the somewhat remarkable experiences through which it
has accompanied us."
"Take it, sir?" said she. "To be sure I will. An' very glad am I to get
it. As long as I live it shall stand on the mantelpiece in my parlor;
an' when I die it shall be left to my heirs, to be taken care of as long
as it holds together."
Every reason for dissatisfaction having now been banished from our
little company, we all settled down for a season of enjoyment. Even Mr.
Enderton, who had found on the top shelf of a closet in his room at the
inn a lot of old books, appeared to be in a state of perfect content. To
the Dusantes a residence in this absolutely rural portion of our Middle
States in the autumnal season was an entirely novel experience. The
crisp and invigorating air, the mists and the glowing hues of the
Indian-summer time, the softness of the sunshine, and even those masses
of limbs and twigs which had already dropped their leaves and spread
themselves in a delicate network against the clear blue sky, were all
full of a novel beauty for these people who had lived so long in
tropical lands and among perennial foliage, and had never known the
delights of an American country life out of season. Having enjoyed Mrs.
Lecks's hospitality for a suitable period, they proposed to that
sensible woman that she should receive them as boarders until the winter
should set in; and to this practical proposition she gave a ready
assent, hoping that the really cold weather would long defer its coming.
Ruth and I established ourselves on the same terms with Mrs. Aleshine. A
prolonged holiday from the labors of my business had been the object of
my attempted journey to Japan, and I could think of no place where it
would better please my young wife and myself to rest for a time than
here among these good friends.
A continual source of amusement to us were the acts and doings of Mrs.
Aleshine and her three sailormen. These bold mariners had enlisted, soul
and body, into the service of the thrifty housewife; and as it was
impossible to do anything in connection with the growing of the onions
until the desired fields should be acquired and the spring should open,
many and diverse were the labors at which the coxswain and those two
able-bodied seamen Bill and Jim set themselves, or were set by Mrs.
Aleshine.
The brilliantly painted front door, which at first had excited the good
woman's ire, gradually came to command her admiration; and when her
sailormen had done everything else that they could in the barns, the
fields, or at the woodpile, she gave them the privilege to paint various
portions of her property, leaving designs and colors to their own taste
and fancy. Whether they milked the cows, cut the wood, or painted the
sides of the house, they always worked like good fellows, and in
nautical costume. They holystoned the front deck, as they called the
floor of the piazza, until it seemed sacrilegious to set foot upon it;
and when the house and the pale-fence had been suitably painted, they
allowed their fancies lofty flights in the decoration of the smaller
outbuildings and various objects in the grounds. One of the men had a
pocket-chart of the colors adopted by the different steamship companies
all over the world, and now smoke-houses, corn-cribs, chicken-houses,
and so on, down to pumps and hitching-posts, were painted in great bands
of blue and red and white and black, arranged in alternating orders,
until an observer might have supposed that a commercial navy had been
sunk beneath Mrs. Aleshine's house grounds, leaving nothing but its
smoke-stacks visible.
The greatest work of decoration, however, was reserved by the
red-bearded coxswain for himself, designed by his own brain, and
executed by his own hands. This was the tattooing of the barn. Around
this building, the sides of which were already of a color sufficiently
resembling a well-tanned human skin, the coxswain painted, in blue spots
resembling tattooing, an immense cable passing several times about the
structure, a sea-serpent almost as long as the cable, eight anchors, two
ships under full sail, with a variety of cannons and flags which filled
up all the remaining spaces. This great work was a long time in
execution, and before it was half finished its fame had spread over the
surrounding country.
[Illustration: "THE GREATEST WORK OF DECORATION WAS RESERVED BY THE
RED-BEARDED COXSWAIN FOR HIMSELF."]
The decoration of her premises was greatly enjoyed by Mrs. Aleshine. "It
gives 'em somethin' to do," said she, "till the onion season comes on;
it makes 'em happy; an' the leaves an' flowers bein' pretty nigh gone, I
like to see the place blossomin' out as if it was a cold-weather
garden."
In the evenings, in the large kitchen, the sailormen danced their
hornpipes, and around the great fireplace they spun long yarns of haps
and mishaps on distant seas. Mrs. Aleshine always, and the rest of us
often, sat by the fire and enjoyed these nautical recreations.
"Havin' myself done housekeepin' in the torrid zone," she once said, "a
lot of the things they tell come home to me quite nat'ral. An' I'd do
anything in the world to make 'em content to live on dry land like
common Christians, instead of cavortin' about on the pitchin' ocean,
runnin' into each other, an' springin' leaks, with no likelihood of
findin' a furnished island at every p'int where their ship happened to
go down."
On one subject only did any trouble now come into the mind of Mrs.
Aleshine, and she once had a little talk with me in regard to it.
"I've been afeard from the very beginnin'," she said, "an' after a while
I more'n half believed it, that Elizabeth Grootenheimer was settin' her
cap at the coxswain; so I just went to him an' I spoke to him plain.
'This sort o' thing won't do at all,' says I; 'an' although I haven't a
doubt you see it for yourself, I thought it my dooty to speak my mind
about it. There's plenty of young women in this township that would make
you sailormen fust-rate wives, an' glad enough I'd be to see you all
married an' settled an' gone to farmin' right here amongst us; but
Elizabeth Grootenheimer won't do. Settin' aside everythin' else, if
there was to be any children, they might be little coxswains, but they'd
be Grootenheimers too, stone-dumb Grootenheimers; an' I tell you plain
that this county can't stand no more Grootenheimers!' To which he says,
says he, 'I want you to understan', ma'am, that if ever me or Jim or
Bill makes up our mind to set sail for any sort of a weddin' port, we
won't weigh anchor till we've got our clearance papers from you.' By
which he meant that he'd ask my advice about courtin'. An' now my mind
is easy, an' I can look ahead with comfort to onion-time."
I found it necessary to go to Philadelphia for a day or two to attend to
some business matters; and, the evening before I started, the coxswain
came to me and asked a favor for himself and his mates.
"It mayn't have passed out of your mind, sir," said he, "that when me
an' Jim an' Bill took that money that you all give us, which wasn't
'zackly like prize-money, because the rest of the crew, to put it that
way, didn't get any, we listened keerful to see if anything was said as
to what we was to do with the money; an' nothin' bein' said, we took it,
and we wasn't long makin' up our minds as to what we was goin' to do
with it. What we wanted to do was to put up some sort of signal what
couldn't get blowed away, or, more like, a kind of reg'lar moniment as
would make them that looked at it remember the rough squalls and the
jolly larks we've gone through with together; an' it was when we was
talkin' about Mrs. Lecks bein' give' the ginger-jar to put on her
mantelpiece an' keep forever that me an' Jim an' Bill we said, says we,
that Mrs. Aleshine should have a ginger-jar too, havin' as much right to
one as her mate, an' that that would be the signal-flag or the moniment
that we'd put up. Now, sir, as you're goin' to town, we ask you to take
this money, which is the whole lot that was give' us, an' have a
ginger-jar built, jus' the size an' shape an' gen'ral trim of that other
one, but of no pottery-stuff, for you kin buy 'em jus' like that, an'
that ain't what we want. We want her built of good oak, stout an'
strong, with live-oak knees inside to keep her stiff an' save her from
bein' stove in, in case of a collision. We want her bottom coppered up
above the water-line with real silver, an' we want a turtle-back deck
with a round hatchway, with a tight-fittin' hatch, jus' like common
jars. We want her sides calked with oakum, an' well scraped an' painted,
so that with water inside of her or outside of her she won't leak. An'
on the bottom of her, so they kin be seen if she keels over, we wants
the names of me an' Jim an' Bill, which we've wrote on this piece of
paper. An' on her sides, below the water-line, on the silver copperin',
we want the names of all the rest of you, an' the latitood an'
longitood of that island, an' anything out of the logs that might 'a'
been kep' by any of you, as might help to be remembered the thing what
happened. An' then, if there's any room left on the copperin', an' any
money lef' to pay for 'em, you might have cut on as many anchors, an'
hearts, an' bits of cable, an' such like suitable things as would fill
up. An' that jar we're goin' to give to Mrs. Aleshine to put on her
mantelpiece, to stay there as long as she lives, or anybody that belongs
to her. An', by George, sir!" he added behind his hand, although there
was nobody to hear, "if ever them two jars run into each other, it won't
be Mrs. Aleshine's that'll go down!"
I undertook this commission, and in due course of time there came to the
village the most astonishing ginger-jar that was ever built, and which
satisfied the three mariners in every particular. When it was presented
to Mrs. Aleshine, her admiration of this work of art, her delight in its
ownership, and her gratitude to the donors were alike boundless.
"However could I have had the idee," said she privately to me, "that any
one of them noble sailormen could have brought himself down to marry
Elizabeth Grootenheimer!"
It was not long after this happy event that another great joy came to
Mrs. Aleshine. Her son returned from Japan. He had heard of the loss of
the steamer in which his mother and Mrs. Lecks had set sail, and was in
great trouble of mind until he received a letter from his mother which
brought him speedily home. He had no intention of settling in
Meadowville, but it had been a long time since he had seen his mother.
He was a fine young man, handsome and well educated, and we were all
delighted with him; and in a very short time he and Lucille Dusante,
being the only young bachelor and maiden of the company, became so
intimate and super-friendly that it was easy to see that to Mrs.
Aleshine might come the unexpected rapture of eventually being the
mother of Lucille.
We stayed much later at Meadowville than we had expected. Even after the
little hills and vales had been well covered with snow, sleighing and
coasting parties, led by the lively new-comer, offered attractions,
especially to Lucille, which bound us to the cheery homes of Mrs. Lecks
and Mrs. Aleshine. But, after a time, the Dusantes considered it prudent
to go to Florida for the rest of the winter; Mr. Enderton had long since
read all the books on his closet shelf and departed for New York; and
Ruth and I determined that we, too, must move eastward.
But, before our little company separated, Mrs. Aleshine's son and
Lucille Dusante had settled it between them that when the springtime
came they would set sail for a wedding port. This match was a highly
satisfactory one to all concerned, for Mr. Dusante could scarcely have
found a young brother-in-law who would make his sister so happy, and who
was, at the same time, so well fitted by disposition and previous
occupation to assist in his increasing business cares.
In the spring the Dusante family came North again, and Lucille and her
lover were married; and then all of us, except Mr. Enderton, who had
obtained a most congenial position as assistant librarian in a public
institution seldom visited, gathered at Meadowville to spend a week or
two together, after which Ruth and I would repair to the New England
town which was to be our home, and the Dusante family, the young husband
included, would set out on a tour, partly of business and partly of
pleasure, through Canada and the far Northwest.
It was arranged that, whenever it should be possible, Lucille and Mrs.
Dusante should spend their summers at Meadowville; and as this would
also give her much of the society of her son, the heart of Mrs. Aleshine
could ask no more.
This visit to Meadowville was in the onion season; and one morning Ruth
and I sat upon a fence and watched the three sailormen busily at work.
The soil looked so fine and smooth that one might almost have supposed
that it had been holystoned; and the three nautical farmers, in their
tight-waisted, loose-bottomed trousers, their tarpaulin hats, and their
wide-collared shirts, were seated on the ground at different points,
engrossed in the absorbing task of setting out young onions as onions
had never been set out before. All the careful attention to patient
minutiæ which nautical handiwork had taught them was now displayed in
their new vocation. In a portion of the field which had been first
planted the onions had sprouted, and we could see evidences of
astonishing designs. Here were anchors in onions; hearts in onions;
brigs, barks, and schooners in onions; and more things pertaining to
ships, the heart's affections, and the raging main outlined in onions
than Ruth and I could give names to.
"It seems to me," said I, "that there must have been some sort of
enchantment in that little island in the Pacific, for in one way or
another it has made us all very happy."
"That is true," answered Ruth, "and, do you know, I believe the cause of
a great part of that happiness was the board money in the ginger-jar!"
[Illustration]