On Saturday, to the consternation of the tea-shop managers, a letter
from Althea arrived announcing that owing to a tangle of circumstances
too complex to explain, she should be forced to prolong her absence
from home for an indefinite period; she was both sorry and apologetic
and she offered half a page of regrets. Nevertheless in spite of them
it was evident she had not the least intention of shortening her stay.
“Them Tylers!” wrathfully exploded Captain Gill. “Them damn Tylers! I
wish to mercy Althea had either been born without relations or else
without such a conscience. What does she gain by bendin’ herself
backwards to do her duty? It only gets her an’ the rest of us into
trouble.”
Asaph offered no response. He dared not reply lest in this moment of
weakness and discouragement he endorse Lemuel’s philosophy.
“It will mean mannin’ the boats for another pull, I s’pose,” ventured
he wearily. “Still, I reckon we can do it; eh, pardner?”
“Folks can always do what they have to,” grunted Lemuel. “All the same
I think Althea’d oughter come home. What does she ’magine is happenin’
to her Dolphin?”
“I dunno. She ’pears to have forgotten there is such a critter.”
“Ain’t you written her how business was boomin’?”
“No. To tell the truth I ain’t had time. Furthermore I’ve been
expectin’ every day she’d come walkin’ in. I did send her one postal
but there warn’t room on it to--”
“Don’t you believe if she knew how the shop’s blossomed out she’d--”
“Hurry back?” interrogated Asaph, completing the unfinished sentence.
“No, I don’t. Once she made up her mind her duty was to bail Sarah
out she’d stand by till she was bailed. That’s the way Althea’s made.
Her sense of right an’ wrong is somethin’ prodigious. A letter would
no more move her than a charge of dynamite. She’d just say folks must
do the will of the Lord no matter what fate overtook ’em. Althea’s a
powerful good woman, Lemmy.”
“I know that,” promptly agreed Captain Gill. “If all the world was
as Christian the millennium wouldn’t be long a-comin’. Still in this
case--”
Alas, Abington was too far away to render Lemuel’s ethical opinions
of value. Thus it came about that the two cronies launched forth on a
second week of the Dolphin, and as the days dragged on and the glories
of their success began to be overshadowed by fatigue, Peggy Davidson
suddenly made her appearance.
She knocked timidly at the kitchen door early one warm afternoon.
“May I come in?” she asked.
Asaph, who with gingerly care was bringing the sacred green china
from the pantry, started at the sound of a feminine voice and all but
dropped the plates he was carrying.
Framed in garlands of climbing roses that arched the entrance and with
gown snowy against the blue of the distant sea, the girl presented a
fair and cheering picture.
Lemmy sprang to let her in.
“I haven’t come to interrupt you,” she explained with a smile. “I’ve
come to help.”
“To--to--what?” stammered Asaph.
“To help. Ever since I was here the other day I’ve been wondering how
you were getting along, and today, on hearing in roundabout fashion
that Mrs. Holmes had not yet returned, I decided to run in and offer
my services. Not that you need me. Everyone I meet is singing the
praises of the tea-house. There’s an old gentleman at our hotel who
hasn’t done talking yet of the wonderful lobster he had here last week.
Nevertheless I know it must all mean lots of work, especially when
you’re not accustomed to such duties. So I’ve come to beg a job. I
should have done so before if the Hollingsworths had not kept Mother
and me on the jump every minute until they went away.”
“They’ve gone, have they?” interposed Lemmy Gill. “I’m sorry to hear
that for I liked ’em. I kinder thought from what they said they might
turn up here again.”
“They wanted to. But the days were so full--”
“I know, I know,” nodded the little man. “Sort of a pity, though, this
sightin’ folks you hanker to see more of an’ havin’ ’em swallered up
as if by a fog. Prob’ly we’ll never glimpse ’em again this side of the
grave.”
“Oh, yes, you will. They haven’t all gone,” explained the girl, turning
pink as the rose tucked in her dress. “The young doctor is still here.
He had to remain behind on some business or other.”
A significant “Oh!” escaped Lemuel.
“You will let me help you, won’t you?” pleaded Peggy, hurriedly
changing the subject. “There must be things an extra pair of hands can
do.”
“It’s mighty kind of you to offer,” replied Asaph.
“Offer? But I mean to do it. I came on purpose. See, here is my apron
in testimony,” and she held up a wee muslin affair from which dangled
pertly starched strings.
“But the very notion--” Asaph began.
“Why not? I’m bored to death sitting round that hotel piazza with
nothing to do. It will be quite a lark.”
Resolutely she laid aside her hat and shaking out her bobbed curls she
donned her wisp of an apron.
“I’ll set the tables,” announced she, taking the plates from Asaph’s
hand. “What are you going to have today?”
“That’s what we were just cogitatin’ about,” Lemuel Gill responded.
“We’re kinder on the rocks this afternoon. We’d intended diggin’ clams;
but the tide was wrong. For an hour ’most I’ve been rackin’ my brain
for another inspiration.”
“What is there in the house?” interrogated Peggy, with businesslike
directness.
“Not much of anythin’, I’m afraid. You can come into the pantry an’
take a look around,” was Asaph’s spiritless answer. “There’s more sour
milk than anythin’ else. Seems to be seas of it. I’ve been meanin’
to stop that milkman leavin’ so much but ain’t got round to it.” He
motioned gloomily toward the array of pans and bowls scattered about
the shelves.
“Here’s cheese,” exclaimed Peggy.
“Yes, there’s plenty of that. Sour milk an’ cheese--nothin’ very
appetizin’ in that layout,” commented the disheartened chef. “I can’t
make ’em into nothin’ an’ neither can Lemmy.”
“But I can,” Peggy cried with enthusiasm. “I can make delicious
sour milk gingerbread.” Her eye traversed the cupboard. “We’ll have
sandwiches, iced tea, hot gingerbread and cheese--an excellent menu for
a warm day. Now where is the flour?”
Already her sleeves were rolled up and she was lifting down a huge
earthen bowl.
“You ain’t actually goin’ to cook?” gasped Asaph.
“Yes, I am. Why not? But I must have a good fire. Hadn’t we better put
on a little more wood?”
In a moment she had enlarged the Dolphin staff from two to three
members, and set the men to work with such spirited leadership that
their waning courage revived, and long before the fumes of the bronzing
gingerbread scented the cottage they were once more in high feather and
leaping to do her bidding.
“Was she to suggest puttin’ Pyrox in the tea I believe I’d do it,”
whispered Lemuel Gill in an aside to his confederate. “Ain’t she the
clear-headed little pilot, though? Sure of the channel as if she’d
towed a tea-room along all her days.”
She certainly was. Without hesitation she whisked the revered green
china on to the tables, arranging it daintily with some paper doilies
produced from goodness only knew where; she placed the knives, forks,
and spoons so they lay amicably side by side; then she hunted out
several small glass vases Althea had purchased and stored away.
“Could you trust me to cut a few flowers?” she asked. “I’ll be very
careful and take them where they won’t be missed.”
“You can help yourself to whatever you like,” assented Asaph. “Here’s
my scissors. Snip off anythin’ you take a fancy to.”
Oh, he had indeed been reduced to a state of utter subjection when he
gave such wholesale permission as that!
Peggy did not, however, take advantage of the freedom granted her.
Within a short space of time she returned from the garden bringing only
a few sprays of roses and mignonette, which she put in the centre of
each table. This touch of artistry, however, immediately transformed
the place.
“We might ’a’ done that, Lemmy, if we’d had the brains,” said Asaph.
“Looks pretty, don’t it? I wish Althea could see it.”
With fervor Lemmy nodded. He wished so with all his heart.
As they trooped after Peggy into the kitchen Lemuel stopped to peep out
of the window and presently inquired:
“Ain’t that Doctor Hollingsworth comin’ in the gate?”
Blushing furiously the girl bent over the stove.
“Mercy!” she ejaculated. “What do you suppose he wants here?” Then
taking refuge in the shadow of the oven door she called:
“This is no place for you, Eric. We’re busy.”
“I thought maybe--”
“You’d get more chowder and fruit cake? Well, you won’t. We’re leading
the simple life today and you’ll get nothing but gingerbread.”
“But I like gingerbread,” the unabashed intruder announced.
“Oh, do you?” retorted Miss Peggy, with a toss of her rippling locks.
Eric ventured farther into the kitchen.
“What have you done, Mr. Holmes--sold out your business?” he asked.
“He’s had it took away from him,” chuckled Lemuel Gill.
“I warn’t sorry to surrender it,” explained Asaph with a faint sigh.
“You see a dolphin’s all well enough so long as it keeps mild an’
docile; but when it turns into a whale an’ starts runnin’ away--line,
harpoon an’ all--it has you beat.”
“Fie, Mr. Holmes! You weren’t beaten,” smiled Peggy. “Instead, every
day in every way you were growing better and better.”
Eric Hollingsworth laughed, but Asaph, to whom Coué’s optimistic
philosophy was a sealed book, responded literally:
“If I have it’s chiefly due to Lemmy. The chowder was his, an’ the
lobsters, too.”
“Your clam fritters made a great hit Wednesday, I heard.”
“They didn’t go a-beggin’,” admitted the man modestly. “But we
couldn’t ’a’ remained on such heights as that forever. Our list of
accomplishments was gettin’ played out. Sooner or later there’d ’a’
been a drop to baked beans. Mebbe today, marm, if you hadn’t happened
in.”
With frank admiration he regarded the girl in the microscopic apron.
So did young Hollingsworth.
To judge from his eager glance he would have been quite content to
watch her indefinitely had she not cut short this agreeable pastime by
saying:
“Suppose, Eric, since you are here uninvited, a drone in a hive of
bees, you make yourself useful by hunting round outdoors for some mint.”
“Mint! Shades of Volstead! You’re not going to make a surreptitious
julep?”
“Nothing so good,” laughed Peggy. “Only a fourth cousin to one. I
simply wish to put some mint into the iced tea.”
“How are the mighty fallen!” groaned the doctor.
“Oh, there’s shoals of mint in the garden,” asserted Asaph. “I can get
you all you want. I don’t know, though, as I ever heard of puttin’ it
in tea.”
“After what happened Friday Asaph’s goin’ kinder slow on herbs,” put in
Lemmy Gill.
“An’ is it to be wondered at if I am?” returned his comrade
good-humoredly. “If you’d all but poisoned a man an’ two women you’d
move careful too.”
It was a merry afternoon, a day of friendly jest and nonsense. And when
it proved to be one of the most popular in the tea-shop’s history,
Asaph Holmes’s gratitude knew no bounds.
“My eye, Miss Davidson, you’ve set a pace for us now,” he beamed. “What
with your gingerbread, your mint, an’ your flowers you’ve given us a
pretty high mark to shoot at.”
“Your mint, and your flowers, Mr. Holmes,” corrected Peggy.
“Nonsense! I didn’t know enough to use ’em,” came humbly from the owner
of the grey cottage. “Most likely, too, there’s other blessin’s starin’
me in the face that I’m too stupid to see.”
“One of ’em is lookin’ you between the eyes right now,” said Lemmy
Gill, directing a gallant bow toward Peggy.
“Oh, I ain’t missin’ that one,” smiled Asaph. “I do hope you know,
marm, how grateful Lemmy an’ me are to you.”
“You needn’t be,” answered the girl. “I’ve had all kinds of fun. It’s
always been one of my ambitions to run a tea-room.”
“Queer how the notion gets women,” the man muttered.
“It does, though,” confessed Peggy. “There is fascination in the very
mention of cakes and tea. I shall be back again tomorrow. Oh, yes,
I shall. You cannot rid yourself so easily of me. Haven’t I been
satisfactory?” She dimpled in distracting fashion.
“You’re always satisfactory,” burst out Eric Hollingsworth, impulsively.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” retorted the girl with magnificent hauteur.
“I was addressing Mr. Holmes.”
“Satisfactory ain’t quite the word,” said Asaph slowly. “I met a line
would fit you like a cap in somethin’ I was readin’ lately. I wish I
could think how it went.”
“Somethin’ Daniel Webster wrote, I’ll bet a penny,” interrupted Lemuel
Gill in a proud undertone. “Asaph’s great on books, you know. Before we
launched away on this Dolphin he was always readin’. But he gets little
time for that sort of thing now.”
“I can read this winter,” returned his pal, a hint of wistfulness in
his tone.
“When the Dolphins cease from troublin’ an’ the weary are at rest,”
interpolated the irrepressible Captain.
But Asaph ignored the jest.
“’Tain’t hurt me to rest my eyes, I guess,” said he brightly. “Readin’
is taxin’ business. Besides, I’ve got my flowers. One rose will keep
you goin’ for quite a spell,” he added with a smile.
Apparently roses, combined with Peggy Davidson’s skill, Lemuel’s
constant assistance, and the daily visits of Doctor Hollingsworth
kept Asaph Holmes serene for an entire week. Then one afternoon, all
unheralded, in walked Althea. No, she did not walk in. That had been
her intention; but instead of carrying it out she halted at the gate of
her dwelling and stared incredulously about her.
As far as eye could reach there extended down the lane an array
of automobiles such as, in her limited experience, portended no
function but a funeral. They stood parked along the edge of the
bayberry-bordered meadow; they jostled each other for space beside
the vine-covered wall. She did not remember ever having seen so many
cars together at one time, and wondered what had brought them. Then
presently she observed they stretched away from her own door and a
great fear assailed her. Suppose, during her absence, something had
happened to Asaph, and through a prank of fate she had failed to
receive word of the tragedy? He would have a large funeral, for not
only was he one of the oldest residents of the village, but a deacon
of the church and a trustee of the library as well. The next moment,
however, the absurdity of the idea put her terror to flight. Of course
nobody could proceed with such a function without her. Furthermore, the
gathering had not a funereal atmosphere. Fashionably gowned women with
gay parasols loitered on the lawn or paused on the steps to exchange
laughing gossip. There were men about, too, in sporting togs. The
verandas swarmed with people.
Then it flashed upon her that the moving crowd with its kaleidoscopic
dashes of color was the fulfillment of her dream. It was the Green
Dolphin!
Yes, it was the Dolphin as she had in her maddest moments pictured
it--the Dolphin a-hum with life and joviality!
As she passed in between the little tables and beheld them tempting
with roses and her treasured green china, it seemed as if the vision
could not be real, the beauty of it so far outstripped her ideal. There
were flowers everywhere and masses of bayberry in bowls, in hanging
baskets, and in nice old blue jars. Oh, the place had an air, she
realized that immediately. But how in the world had Asaph managed it?
He had scarcely mentioned the tea-house in the one hurriedly scrawled
postal he had sent her, and from his silence she had gathered that the
enterprise had gone to rack and ruin, and been the more impatient to
get back and grasp the tiller before the chance of salvaging the wreck
had vanished forever.
Could the shop have been going on like this all the while she had been
away? Oh, it was impossible. Asaph and that blundering Lemmy Gill could
never have contrived such a triumph.
For it was a triumph--every step she took convinced her of that. She
had thought Mattie Bearse’s Yaller Fish the pinnacle of elegance. But
her own Green Dolphin--!
Dragging her suitcase after her she went on through the house. Nobody
heeded her coming. It was too busy a spot for one more visitor to be
noticed. The tables were crowded, and as she passed along she glimpsed
her husband and Lemmy Gill moving in and out the room bearing aloft
trays laden with her precious china tea-sets. There was a stranger,
too, hovering about, a handsome young city man in conventional summer
garb, who was collecting money in a smart little wicker basket. She
should never have thought of using a basket; but how nice it was! She
speculated as to who this cashier could be. Apparently he was entirely
at home, for he chatted right and left with the guests and seemed to
be a general favorite with them. For that matter, Asaph and Lemmy were
gossiping and joking with people as if they had met them times without
number, especially a wizened old man in the corner whose daughter was
objecting:
“Now, Pa, I wouldn’t drink a second glass of that iced tea if I were
you. It will surely keep you awake.”
“Didn’t I have two yesterday, Sophie, and sleep like a top afterward?
Keep me awake! I guess not!”
So there had been a yesterday and perhaps a day before! The marvel was,
then, nothing new.
Althea threaded her way on into the kitchen and there on the threshold
stood transfixed, the enigma that had baffled her plain to her quick
understanding.
Amid a methodically arranged collection of tea bags, boiling kettles,
and moistly wrapped sandwiches was a young girl, bewilderingly pretty,
placing frosted cakes on a plate with a deftness that bespoke the
practised hand.
Althea had but to look at her and the mystery was solved.
Asaph had been compelled to summon professional aid! That explained
everything.
It was just as this answer to the conundrum flashed upon her that the
creature in the ridiculous apron turned and confronted her.
“Oh,” cried she, with a smile that fairly dazzled, “are you Mrs.
Holmes?”
“I am,” was the stiff response.
“How splendid to see you home again! I’m Peggy Davidson.”
Althea scanned her critically. She was not of the cheap class of
wage earner, that was evident. Doubtless she was some domestic
science graduate who commanded a fabulous price. Poor Asaph! He was
so impractical. Likely as not he had plunged helplessly in and hired
her without so much as referring to wages. That would be his way. He
wouldn’t have an idea whether her fee was large or small or whether he
was making money or losing it. It was safe to assume he was losing it.
The establishment was without question swamped, this very minute, with
debts. She ought never to have gone away and left such a project in his
hands and in the hands of that scatter-brained Lemuel Gill.
“I don’t believe I shall need you after today,” announced she to the
girl in her loftiest tone. “Now that I’m home I can look after things
myself.”
“Of course you can,” was the cordial reply. “Mr. Holmes will be
thankful enough to have you, too. Does he know you’re here?”
“No. He was busy when I came in.”
“It’s been frightful today,” said the sprite in the wee apron. “We have
been rushed to death. If the popularity of the Dolphin continues we
shall have to be putting tables on the lawn.”
The use of the word we indicated so obvious a participation in the
Dolphin’s affairs and familiarity with its interests that Althea once
more stole a sharp glance at the girl’s face.
She had finished with the cakes now and stood idly fanning herself with
a newspaper, and every time this improvised weapon swayed it set in
motion myriad soft little curls that clustered about her forehead. Oh,
her hair was pretty, very pretty--almost too pretty, thought the elder
woman with resentment.
“How did you leave Teddie?” Peggy suddenly inquired.
So she knew about Teddie, too! Probably Asaph, simple-minded and
confiding, had told her everything. Men were weak as dish-water when a
pretty girl was concerned.
“My nephew is better,” was her chilly response.
“I am glad! Mr. Holmes will be relieved. He has been worried about
the little chap. He is so sympathetic, he can’t bear to have a child
suffer.”
Then, beaming guilelessly at Althea, she added, “What a dear he is!”
At the audacity of the compliment the woman caught her breath. Oh, it
was full time she came home, thought she to herself. Not but that she
trusted Asaph. She would have trusted him to the other end of the world
if he were let alone. But men were human and none of them proof against
the wiles of a fascinating female, especially one that talked of books,
flowers, and favorite nephews.
It should be said to Althea’s credit that so tremendously proud was she
of Asaph, it never occurred to her there was anything incongruous in a
girl, however young, being attracted to her husband. He was one man in
a thousand, and such being the case was it to be expected all the world
but herself would be blind to his exceptional qualities? This minx in
the absurd apron, for example, had evidently already discovered what a
paragon he was.
Nevertheless, commendable as was her taste, some sort of rebuke was
certainly due her, and as Althea stood hesitating whether to put the
upstart in her place or ignore her brazen observation, Asaph himself
came hurrying into the kitchen.
“More cakes, Miss Davidson!” cried he. “They’re disappearin’ like live
bait. Haven’t we had a crowd, though?”
It was then he turned and caught sight of his wife.
“Althea! In all my born days I never was so glad to see a human bein’!
When did you get here?”
“Just now.”
“I didn’t notice you comin’ in.”
“You were too busy.”
Had she cherished a shadow of doubt as to her welcome it was forever
banished by the eagerness with which the great fellow seized her bag
and kissed her. They never had been much given to demonstrative
greetings, and for a person of his New Englandism to so far forget
his reserve as to embrace her in public caused her to flush like a
schoolgirl.
“I see you’ve made Miss Davidson’s acquaintance already,” he continued.
“She’s been my mainstay--she an’ Lemmy. I’d have sunk plumb to the
bottom but for them.”
“Oh, no, you wouldn’t, Mr. Holmes,” Peggy protested. “You and the
Dolphin were getting on perfectly well before I butted in.”
“Butted in!”
“Well, that is what I did, you know. I came over here from the hotel
all uninvited, Mrs. Holmes, just for the lark of it. I’ve always wanted
to try my luck with a tea-room.”
“You could run one to the queen’s taste!” came enthusiastically from
Asaph.
Light was breaking in on Althea’s confused mind.
“Was it you, Miss Davidson, fixed the tables, flowers an’ all?” asked
she.
“I helped. I enjoy doing such things.”
“You do them well.”
Althea might have said more but she was not given to slopping over;
perhaps for that very reason her praise, scantily doled out, carried
the more significance.
“Where’s the cakes you came after?” broke in Lemmy Gill, appearing in
the doorway. “Mr. Haverford an’ his old maid daughters are beat to a
frazzle waitin’ for ’em.”
“My soul! I clean forgot,” gasped the delinquent.
“No matter, Mr. Holmes. The Haverfords will be all the better for
digesting their tea,” laughed Peggy. “Here are the cakes, Captain Gill.
You take them in.”
Lemuel, born with a sweet tooth, looked longingly down on the freshly
filled plate.
“Ain’t they cute!” observed he. “How you ever contrived to frost ’em so
smooth I don’t see. I’ll bet, too, they’re good as they look. I could
swaller the dishful at one gulp.”
“You needn’t do it, though,” ordered Peggy, holding up a warning
finger. “Wait until by and by and you shall have some. I’ve a panful
tucked away on purpose for you.”
“That’s welcome tidin’s. And--my soul an’ body--if here ain’t Althea!
That tidin’s better yet. Oh, if we ain’t prayed night an’ day for your
comin’, Althea.”
“You seem to be makin’ out pretty well without me,” smiled the woman.
“We’re makin’ out,” granted Lemmy, “with the help of Miss Peggy here,
an’ Doctor Hollingsworth; we’re doin’ fine!”
“Doctor Hollingsworth?” repeated Althea, vaguely.
“He’s number four of the crew. Guess you ain’t met him yet.”
“An’ what is he doin’ here?” demanded the still puzzled sponsor of the
Green Dolphin.
Glancing furtively at Peggy, Lemuel cocked his head and with solemnity
winked one of his sharp little eyes.
“We found ’twas safer to keep a physician on the premises,” drawled he.