"Oh, I hope I haven't given you the idea that anything is likely to
happen," she said anxiously. "If I have, I'm quite sorry I spoke. If
you'll only take everything quite as a matter of course--that's all I
mean--her moods, you know, and not think things--" She ended without
attempting to be more lucid, for there was a sound of some one coming
up-stairs.
Miss Fielding came into the room, and her delicate right eyebrow rose at
seeing Leah sitting there, doing nothing.
"Leah, go down and tie up the dogs; they're chasing all over the place!"
Her voice was crisp and peremptory.
Leah went away quietly; I got a swift glance of mute appeal at me as she
left. Miss Fielding came to my side and looked down at me quizzically,
her thumbs in her belt.
"Do you mind telling me your name?" she said. "It's rather awkward not
to know, you know."
"Oh, Castle's my real name, right enough," I answered.
"Castle?" she repeated, and then, as if recollecting: "Of course, but I
meant your first name." Her face cleared.
"Chester Castle," I enlarged. "A good name for an architect, isn't it?"
"An architect, really? Then I'll have to get you to help me on my
little house. But you're too good-looking for an architect," she
laughed. "I thought they always wore pointed beards, like doctors."
"Oh, I'm not a Beaux-Arts man," I said, keeping up with her mood.
"Are you married?"
"No, I'm happy to say I'm not."
"So am I!" she laughed. "That is to say, I'm glad _I'm_ not, and I'm
glad you're not. My name is Joy. Isn't it silly? It doesn't fit me at
all. I ought to have been called Edna."
"Very well, then, you shall be!" I volunteered.
She took it without surprise or annoyance. "Oh, I don't stand on
ceremony. That's silly. If you're going to stay here for a week I
shall have to call you Chester. Do you mind? It's an awful bore to
have to say 'Mr. Castle' all the time."
"By all means. My mother and my friends call me 'Chet'--"
"That's better still. Chet." She tried it audibly. "I rather like
that."
"You're welcome to it." I laughed at her directness.
"But you haven't asked me any questions! I should think you'd be
curious. Really, it isn't at all complimentary to have you so
indifferent."
"Oh, I'm only keeping 'on the island'," I returned.
"Keeping--what?"
"Don't you remember--about staying 'on the island'? You know you asked
me yourself to."
"Oh, yes--did I? I forget." The puzzled look on her face had appeared
again, but was driven away. "Well, there really isn't much to know
about me. It's stupid enough here at Midmeadows. It's my own place,
you know. It used to belong to my grandfather. I've had it ever since
he died. I suppose it's good for me here, for I'm ill a good part of the
time. I'm up and I'm down. But when I'm up, I'm up pretty high, and
when I'm down, I'm 'way down in the depths."
She had sat down in a chair and had crossed her legs, one over the
other, wagging one foot and clasping her hands across her knees so
tightly that the blood was driven from her white knuckles to the ends of
her purple fingers. It is always an awkward pose; I have often wondered
how a pretty girl could ever take it. Now she drew her chair closer to
the bedside and took my hand.
"Let me see your hand," she said suddenly. "I'll read your palm, if you
like."
She bent over it, drawing so near that her head was quite close to mine,
so close that, had it not been for the perfume she used, I should have
got the odor of her hair. When she turned to me, smiling, she seemed
very near indeed, though none too near me. She began her reading of the
lines, holding my hand in both hers, pointing to the signs with one
finger, trying the resistance of my thumb, squeezing the flesh to
determine its firmness, kneading it and handling it in quite the
professional manner. It took her some time. The opinions she gave me
were not particularly affording, but they were rather cleverly put. She
made a good deal of my "magnetism," saying that she could actually feel
it. I was properly flattered. I could feel hers, easily enough.
Then she dropped my hand, rose and yawned as freely as had Nokomis
herself.
"I'm starving!" she exclaimed. "I must see what's the matter with
dinner. I'm sorry you can't come down, Chet. I hate to eat all alone."
"Why, doesn't Leah eat with you?" I asked, surprised.
"No, I can't quite go _that_!" she said emphatically, as she made an
irrelevant athletic gesture. "I have to draw the line somewhere, you
know. I have Uncle Jerdon sometimes, though, just for the fun of seeing
him eat. He's perfectly lovely! He holds his fork in the Kansas City
style, this way--" She illustrated a familiar restaurant attitude, with
the thumb and little finger of her left hand braced under a paper-knife,
the three middle fingers curled atop. "Then he always loads up his fork
with his knife, a little piece of meat, and a little piece of potato,
and a little dab of butter and a little swish of gravy and then--" She
showed me how, pretending to toss it into her mouth, and wiped her lips
with the back of her hand, in a way that made me laugh aloud. "You
could hear him eat, 'way up here! Golly! it makes me hungry to talk
about it!" she added. "I'll see you later, Chet. Oh--I'll send you up
some current jelly. I made it myself; sure cure for the measles!
Remember, you have to like it!" And she was off in a two-step.
I smiled to myself at her pantomime, after she was gone. How I had
misjudged her at first! She seemed commoner, but our friendship was,
perhaps, more natural. She was no longer the wonderful, exotic,
medieval princess in the tower, but she was a frank, wholesome creature,
full of human charms and faults. I decided, by reason of that sane
analysis, that I was improving in health. My bang on the head, no doubt,
had made me unduly impressionable.
She did not keep her word in regard to coming in after dinner. Leah
brought up my tray, as usual, and took it away, saying that she was
unable to stay with me. She seemed abstracted and nervous, and I
forbore to question her. I spent a dreary evening alone.
The pounding went on for two hours or more after dinner, and then Miss
Fielding came up-stairs to her room. She contented herself with putting
her head through the doorway and calling out "Good night, Chet!" and
then I heard her door slam. There was no talk between the two women
that I could hear.
*V*
"Sliced kisses, fried in tears," were the words I heard Miss Fielding
reply to Leah's morning call, early the next day. I had waited long,
for the day was bright and I wakened at sunrise. Her fanciful order put
one immediately into a good humor, and I was intensely curious to see
what the day would bring forth.
The collies were barking vociferously, joyously. Suddenly they stopped,
and then, one by one, I heard them greet their mistress. It was very
prettily done. Leah, coming in, found me smiling, and smiled back at
me. Seeing me so much better, she offered timidly to help dress me, and
I welcomed her proposal to bring me hot water and what was necessary for
shaving. My own clothes had been sent down, so I prepared myself for my
chatelaine's visit.
Joy came into my room with a sweet, low, "Good morning, Mr. Castle!"
which threw me back not a little, after what had taken place on the
yesterday. I was about to hazard some good-natured sarcasm, but the
sight of her face inhibited it, and something of what Leah had said came
back to me. I answered the greeting without comment, therefore, and
waited for her to set the pace.
She was in an exquisitely fresh, simple organdy frock, and had on a
garden hat and gauntleted garden gloves; her arms were filled with
roses. Her brow wrinkled slightly as she noticed the fading blossoms
which had been left in the vases.
"I'm afraid I neglected you yesterday," she said, as she set about
removing the dejected roses and putting fresh ones in their places. As
she came near me, I noticed little dewy drops on her neatly coiled hair,
where she had dashed it with violet water. There was no trace of any
other scent, save that of the roses. She drew off her gloves and I saw
that she wore no rings.
She sat down for a moment. I had observed before that not only could
Miss Fielding be remarkably graceful in pose and in action, but that she
could be as astonishingly _gauche_ as well. Astonishingly, that is, for
her--for one who _could_ be so graceful. This, however, was decidedly
one of her graceful days, or rather, perhaps, as Leah had said, moods.
Her lines melted and composed. There was positive elegance in the way
she used her hands, gesticulating freely. It enhanced the charm of her
voice, so limpid and full of feeling.
"Isn't it a beautiful morning! What a shame it is that you can't get
up. You must hurry and convalesce--just enough to be able to see the
place, and not so much as to have to go away. Perhaps you can get into
a chair by to-morrow. Did you hear my doggies? I can recognize each of
them by the voice, and you will be able to, too, if you only stay here
long enough. Nokomis is the deepest-toned one. She's the oldest, you
know, and the most dignified. Hiawatha is the little yappy one. He's a
very silly little pup!"
"I'm sorry Nokomis didn't want to come up to see me, yesterday," I said.
"But I hope you'll pardon my taking the liberty of asking for her. I
know you probably don't often allow them in the house."
"Why, of _course_ Nokomis can come up; the idea! She'd love it. Would
you like to see her now?" Then, with her eyes on mine, and noticing my
bewildered look, no doubt, she added, with a queer expression, "Nokomis
wasn't quite well yesterday. She is getting old, you know." She rose
restlessly. "Will you wait a moment, please? I want to speak to Leah,"
and she went out.
Something had passed over her spirits, I couldn't tell what. It was
like the shadow of a cloud sweeping rapidly across a sunny hillside.
Whatever it was, it was gone when she returned.
She went directly to the window, threw up the sash, and called down,
"Nokomis! Hi, Nokomis!" A bark responded.
"Come up here, old lady! Yes, come right up. Wipe your feet, please.
Wipe your _feet_, Nokomis!"
The next thing there was a pattering of feet upon the stairs, and the
bitch bounded into the room, her tail wagging. She ran up to Miss
Fielding immediately for orders.
"Go and say 'How d'you do?' to Mr. Castle, Nokomis," said Miss Fielding,
pointing at me.
Nokomis dropped to the floor again, and with the dignity of a duchess
walked over to where I lay, raised her beautiful eyes to mine, lifted a
forepaw and laid it on the bed. I shook it and felt for the dog's neck.
"Now, Nokomis--" Miss Fielding began.
She was down on the instant, went to her mistress and stood waiting, her
head on one side, her ears half erect, her tail low.
"Go and bring up Chevalier, please," was the command. Nokomis was off
like an arrow, and presently there was a to-do in the yard. By this
time I could recognize Nokomis' heavy note among the others. Then she
and a tan-and-black collie came rollicking into the room. Both came
immediately up to their mistress.
"Here's Chevalier, Mr. Castle. He's a pretty good show dog, isn't he?
He hasn't got a fancy livery, but he's all right, except his tail's set
on a bit too high, and there's a little feather to his hind legs below
the hock."
Chevalier whined, and looked up at Miss Fielding. I was quite ready to
believe the dog understood what she said.
"Oh, that's all right, Chev, you's a booful, good doggie, and I love
you! Chevalier's strain harks back to the original Scott--he's quite a
swell, in his way, and has got blue ribbons. But they all want
tri-colored calico dogs, now. Go over and pay your respects, Chevalier,
please!"
The dog came up to me, was patted, and left with Nokomis, who was next
instructed to return with John O'Groat, a big dog, almost wholly black,
with a rather blunter muzzle than the others.
"John's got pretty good blood, too, and his mother was from the Lothian
Hills, like Norval--no, that was the Grampians. A little hollow-backed,
and his forelegs aren't quite straight, but Jack's a good dog, aren't
you, Jack? A fine worker, too."
Jack was certainly listening to every word attentively, whether he
understood or not. After he had gone, Nokomis brought up Minnehaha, one
of her own youngsters, pure white.
"Poor little Minnie," said Miss Fielding, "she's got yellow eyes and a
thin coat, but I love her just as much!" Taking the forepaws she held
her own face tantalizingly near the dog's tongue. "Just as much, I do.
Now go over to Mr. Castle, Miss!"
Last of all came Hiawatha, a frenzied, wriggling, capering puppy,
sable-and-white like his mother, yelping, crouching, bounding,
hysterical with joy. Miss Fielding and I fell to laughing at his
antics, but Hiawatha was too young to care. He was up on top of my bed
in half a minute, and stifling me with his eagerness, lapping my face
and hands, growling, snarling, biting, scratching all at once. When this
frisky, capering bunch of enthusiasm had departed, quite out of his head
with the excitement of the visit, Miss Fielding talked dog for ten
minutes. She had not forgotten, however, to compliment her pets with a
lump of sugar apiece, filched from my tray and dropped from the window
with strict precedence.
"Oh," I said, looking at her with admiration, "I do think your own name
is the best! It's so like you."
"What d'you mean?" she asked, coming up to me.
"Why--Joy," I replied.
"Of course it is! Isn't it fun to have a name like that? One has quite
to live up to it, though. It inspires me, sometimes, when I'm blue."
"Yes; it has distinction. I don't see why you ever should prefer Edna."
"Oh, Edna--" she said seriously. She waited a moment, to shake from her
skirt the sand the dogs' paws had left. "Well, I do like Edna,
sometimes. It depends upon my mood, I suppose. You know I told you I
had moods. Don't try to reconcile me, I know I'm inconsistent. But I'm
a woman," she added, looking up more brightly, "and I suppose I have
that right."
"I haven't decided whether you're a woman or not," I returned.
"Sometimes I have thought you were a princess in disguise."
"Oh, that's nice of you! But why?"
"You're so mysterious, so whimsical, so detached, so romantic."
"Take care!" she warned severely. "You aren't trying to swim off the
island, are you?"