FINNAN HADDIE IN A GARDEN
As Molly's excitement seemed pleasurable they did not tarry for its
explanation but promptly separated; the ladies returning to their hotel
to order their carriage and repack the few articles they had taken from
their valises.
The Judge set off down the street, still examining his mail and bidding
the girls to follow; and, as they did so, Molly exclaimed:
"It's just too lovely for words! Monty's coming, Monty's coming!"
Dorothy almost lost sight of the Judge as he turned a corner into a side
street, so long she paused and so disgusted she felt.
"That boy! What's he coming for? I hope not to be with us!"
"Exactly what he is, then! We laid a little plan that last morning when
we started. His mother was in Newburgh, you know, and hadn't decided
where she would pass her vacation. So I suppose he went right to her and
asked and she always does just what he wants. He writes that she'd never
visited Nova Scotia nor Canada and was simply delighted to come. She
wouldn't force their society upon our party, oh! no, not for anything!
But she'll manage to take the first steamer out from Boston and will go
straight to Digby. We'll meet there; and if Aunt Lucretia doesn't think
a Stark is good company for a Breckenridge, I'll know the reason why.
Oh! fine, fine."
"Oh! nuisance, nuisance! But come on! Your father is ever so far ahead
and we'll have to hurry to catch up."
They set off upon a run and for a few minutes neither spoke. Molly was
disappointed that Dolly didn't "enthuse," and the latter felt that a
boy--such a boy--would effectually spoil the good times she and her mate
might have had together, alone. Finally, Molly asked:
"Who was your letter from?"
For answer and with considerable pride Dorothy drew James Barlow's
epistle from its envelope and held it toward her friend, saying:
"You can read and see."
Molly read and returned the letter, with a little sniff of contempt and
the remark:
"Huh! The only interesting part of that is the post-script. It will be
just fine to have those dogs along. I suppose Mrs. Calvert sent them up
from Baltimore to Deerhurst. But if I were you, Dolly Doodles, I
wouldn't let that ignoramus preach to me like he does to you in that
letter. He's a prig, that's what he is, and I hate a prig. So there."
"No, he isn't. Mr. Seth would say that he had only 'lost his head' for a
minute. You see poor Jim can't get over the wonder of his getting his
'chance.' He's simply crazy-wild over learning--now. He believes it's
the only thing in the world worth while. He didn't mean to scold me.
I--I guess. If he did I don't mind. He's only Jim. He just knows I'll
have to take care of my father and mother, some day, if our mineral
spring and mine don't pay better than now. He's afraid I'll waste my
'chance,' that's all. Dear, faithful old Jim!"
"Pooh! Horrid, pokey old Jim, I say. But Monty'll have some fun in him;
unless--he thinks two girls are poor company."
"I hope he will. I hope he'll coax your father and those old 'boys' to
take him with them into the woods. That might do him some good and take
the nonsense out of him."
"Well, Dorothy, I think that's not a nice thing for you to say. You must
have forgotten the night of the fire and what he did to help you. There
wasn't any 'nonsense' about Montmorency Vavasour-Stark then, if you
please!"
Instantly touched by this reminder and fully regretful for her
sarcasm--though still sorry that he was coming--Dolly returned:
"That's true, Molly, honey. I did forget, just for a minute. He's not
half bad, Monty isn't; and I guess he'll be useful to climb trees and
pick cherries for us, or get flowers that we can't reach. Anyhow, we're
fairly dawdling and almost quarreling, and all the time your father is
getting further away. See! He's stopping before that house? I'll race
you to the gate!"
"All right. One--two--three--go!"
It was a charming little cottage before which they brought up at the
Judge's side. Its front yard was small, so that the bay-windows one upon
each side the door, came almost to the white paling before the grounds;
but one could catch a glimpse of a deep garden behind and Dorothy's
flower-loving soul was enchanted by it, even as by the contents of the
windows.
"Oh! look! How lovely! Did you ever see such Gloxinias and Cyclamens?
And that Weeping Fuschia in the other window! It is gorgeous, simply
gorgeous! But how queer, too, to keep plants indoors as late as this!
and their lace curtains up, right in the summer-time! Are we going in
here, Judge Breckenridge?"
"Yes, indeed. I paused only to let your rhapsody have vent, though I
really wish the little mistress of this home could have heard such a
spontaneous tribute to her skill as a florist. You'll notice that
peculiarity all through the Province. Window plants remain in the
windows all the year round and there is scarcely a home that hasn't its
share of them and its tiny conservatory, such as is here.
"Curtains? I hadn't thought why they're up, but maybe it's to keep out
the prying gaze of too eager 'tourists.' A fine scorn the native always
has for the average 'tourist'--though he has no scorn for the tourist's
cash. Ah! Here she comes!"
At that instant his summons upon the tiny knocker was answered by the
soft footfall of a woman, and the opening of the door a narrow way. Then
it was as instantly flung wide and a dainty little housemistress,
white-capped and white-haired, extended two small, toil-worn hands in
greeting.
"Oh! Judge Breckenridge! You did give me such a start! But I'm so glad
to see you! So more than glad. Do step right in, please. All of you step
in."
"Thank you, Mrs. Cook, for your welcome and your invitation; but we'd
rather step right out if you don't mind?"
"Why--sir!"
"No lack of appreciation, believe me. But I've a young lady here who is
'plumb crazy' over posies and, coming along on the steamer, I promised
her a glimpse of some of Yarmouth's garden 'cosy corners.' I know none
lovelier than your own; and as for your window-plants--I'm afraid if we
don't take her away from temptation she'll break the glass and 'hook'
one of your 'Gloxamens' or 'Cyclaglinias' or--"
The lady laughed as merrily as a girl and patted Dorothy's shoulder with
appreciation of the Judge's joke. Then started to lead the way around
the cottage into that inviting greenery behind, when a curious voice
hindered her by a pathetic appeal:
"Mamma! Oh! Mamma! Don't go and leave poor Mum! Quisanthemum must go
with Mamma!"
The visitors turned in surprise, toward this querulous "child" as the
girls fancied it, though the Judge was already smiling his understanding
of the matter. Then there appeared in the doorway a parrot, of wonderful
plumage and exaggerated awkwardness; who waddled from side to side,
climbed one side of its mistress's gown to her shoulder and walked
head-first down the other, rolling its eyes and emitting the most absurd
moans till the two girls were convulsed with laughter.
Then Mrs. Cook held out her wrist, the parrot settled on it, and they
proceeded to the garden; the lady explaining:
"This little Miss Chrysanthemum is a spoiled baby. She's only a few
months old, was brought to me by one of my sailor friends, and about
rules the house now. Especially when my boy is away."
As she mentioned her "boy" the tiny woman looked rather anxiously into
the Judge's face; and Dorothy noticed that her own was really quite
young, despite the white hair and widow's cap which crowned it. She
thought the lady charming, she was so small, so delicate and quaint. Yet
there was the real "English color" on her still fair cheek and her eyes
were as bright a blue as Molly's own.
"Son told me you would call. Also, Ephraim wrote me in his last letter;
but I had not expected you to-day. I thought you were to be in Yarmouth
for a week or more and didn't anticipate so prompt a kindness."
Then opening a little bag which hung fastened to her waist, the cottager
drew from it a pair of blunt-pointed scissors and gave them to Dorothy,
saying:
"It's you I see, who has the keenest eyes for flowers. Cut all you want
of anything you fancy;" and she swept her hand rather proudly toward the
hedges of sweet-peas, just coming into bloom, and the magnificent roses
which were earlier in her protected garden than elsewhere in the town.
Had Dorothy known it, this was a rare privilege that had been accorded
her. Mrs. Cook loved her flowers as she did her human friends and had a
fancy that cutting them was almost as cruel as wounding a person she
loved. Until they faded she never cut them for her own enjoyment; and
only now and then nerved herself to clip them for the cheer of some
ailing neighbor. She was therefore greatly pleased when the girl
returned the scissors, after one questioning glance toward Molly, as to
her possible disappointment.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cook, but I don't like to do that. They are so lovely
and look so happy in this beautiful garden, I'd hate to. We shall be
going, I'm told, and they'll only be ruined for nothing. But, if you
please, I'd like to sit down on these steps and enjoy them. Wouldn't
you, Molly? While your father talks with Mrs. Cook."
The steps belonged to a sort of lean-to, or outdoor kitchen. The little
addition was covered with vines in leaf and more sweet-peas clambered
about its base. Behind it was the living-room with its open door and
table already set for dinner. A savory odor issued thence and set the
girls to thinking how remarkably hungry they were, despite their late
and substantial breakfast. Also, to wondering if Nova Scotia air was to
whet their appetites this way all the time.
Thought Molly, in especial: "If it is I shall buy me a little bag to
wear at my waist, as Auntie does, and fill it with crackers."
Then, thinking of food, she "pricked up her ears," hearing her hostess
inviting:
"But, Judge Breckenridge, I would take it the highest honor if you would
share our dinner with us. Of course, it isn't what I'd have liked to
have, had I known. But my husband used to say, 'Welcome is the best
sauce.' Besides, if you're to leave so soon I'll be glad to talk over
that matter of which I just spoke. I am really so perplexed as to what
is best. You've been so kind to my brother-in-law, Ephraim, that--"
She interrupted herself to laugh and observe:
"Yet that's presumptuous of me, too. The fact that you've been a kind
adviser to one of the family doesn't form a precedent for all the rest
of us. But, business aside, cannot you and your daughters join us?"
"Thank you. We will be most happy; though I must set you right on that
point--of relationship. One is my daughter, the blonde, not the
flower-lover; and one is my temporarily 'adopted.' Molly and Dolly their
names; and two dearer little maids you'll travel far to find."
"Aye, they're fair bonny, and so unlike. Now, sit you down, please,
while I dish up; and tell me, if you will, how does the man, Ephraim? He
was ever in fear of his health but a better one never lived. After my
sister died--the pair of us married brothers--he grew lost and finical.
Nought we could do for him just suited the man. It was the grief, I
knew. So, after he'd mumbled along more years than he'd ought, fending
for himself, he crossed over to the States and drifted south to Richmond
and you. 'Twas a sad pity he'd neither son nor daughter to cheer him in
his widower life, but so was his Providence. Mine has been better. Son
is my hope and--and my anxiety. He's not found his right niche yet, poor
lad. There's a love of the sea in him, like his sailor father; but he's
never got over that tragedy of his father's death."
"Where did that happen, Mrs. Cook? Ephraim told me he was drowned,"
asked the visitor, sympathetically.
"Off Pollock Rip Shoals. A bad and fearsome place that, where many an
honest fellow has sunk to his last sleep." She dashed a tear from her
eye, and laid her hand for an instant upon her widow's cap. Then she
went on more cheerfully, as if time had taught her resignation: "But
that's a gone-by. Son's future isn't. It's laid upon me by the Lord to
be both father and mother to the boy and I must study what's for _his_
best, not mine. Ephraim wrote I was to consult you who are a Judge and
wise. He said in his letter that he hadn't been a sort of
general-utility-man in your office thus long without knowing it wasn't
your best paying clients that got your best advice. That, wrote Ephraim,
came out of your heart for the widows and orphans. We're that, son and
I, and--What a garrulous creature I am!"
All the time the little woman had been talking she had also been
preparing for the meal; and it now being ready to serve she stepped to
the rear door, opening on the place where the girls were sitting, and
announced:
"Our finnan haddie and greens are ready, young ladies, if you will come
and partake of it. Also, lest you be disappointed, I'll say that there's
a 'John's Delight' in the 'steamer,' and a dish of the best apples in
the Province for the sweeties. Eh? What, my dear?"
To Dorothy's utter amazement Molly was doing a very rude thing. She had
risen and made her very prettiest courtesy, but had supplemented this
act of respect by the petition:
"Please, Mrs. Cook, may we have ours out here, on these steps?"
"Why, Molly!" cried her chum, in reproof. "The idea of giving all that
trouble!"
"No trouble whatever, but a pleasure," replied the hostess, although
she, also, was surprised.
Molly wheeled upon Dorothy, demanding:
"Wouldn't you like it here? Could you find a lovelier place to eat in?
As for making trouble, I don't want to do that. I--If Mrs. Cook will
just put it on one plate I'll fetch it here for us both. It would be
like a picnic in a garden; and you could stay here and--and watch."
"Watch? What am I to watch, except these beautiful flowers?" asked
Dolly, even further surprised.
Fortunately for Molly her father had not overheard her odd request or
she would have received reproof far more effectual than Dorothy's. Also,
Mrs. Cook was hospitality itself, and this meant wishing her guests to
enjoy themselves after the manner they liked best.
As swiftly as either of the girls could have moved, she was back in the
pleasant living-room, arranging a tray with a portion of the palatable
dinner she had provided; saying in response to the Judge's inquiring
expression:
"We thought it would be a fine thing, and one the lassies will long
remember, to have their Bluenose dinner in a Bluenose garden. For all
their lives long they can think of this summer day and my greenery yon;
and, maybe, too, of the first time they ever ate 'finnan haddie' and
'John's Delight.' More than that, it will give us the freedom of speech
with son, as it wouldn't were they sitting by. He's aye shy, is my
laddie."
Then she carried out a little table, set it beside the steps and placed
the tray thereon. After which she "Begged pardon!" and lifted up her
gentle voice in an appeal that sounded almost pathetic in its entreaty.
"Son! Dear son Melvin! Come now to dinner with your mother! Son! SON!"
The last word was spoken in a tone he rarely disobeyed, and low-toned
though it was, it was so distinctly uttered that people passing on the
street beyond heard it. So also must he have heard who was summoned, if
he was anywhere upon those premises--as he had been when these guests
arrived.
However, he did not appear; and Mrs. Cook and the Judge sat down alone,
while "Son" for whom that "home dinner" had been specially prepared was
"fair famished" for want of it.
Out upon the steps of that lattice-covered, vine-enwrapped summer-house,
the two girls enjoyed their dinner greatly. In particular did mistress
Molly. Her eyes sparkled, her dimples came and went, her smiles almost
interfered with her eating, and her whole behavior was so peculiar that
Dorothy stared. She was puzzled and began to be slightly disgusted, and
at last remarked:
"Why, honey, I never saw you get so much--so much fun out of your food.
I've heard about gourmands. I think I can guess now what they are and
act like. Hark! What's that noise? Kind of a crackle, as if a cat or
something was overhead among those vines. I hope it isn't. Cats love
fish. I always have to shut up Lady Rosalind when Mother Martha has it
for dinner. Isn't 'finnan haddie' a queer name?"
"Yes. I've heard Papa tell of it before. It's haddock smoked, some sort
of queer way. But this is nice--My! How nice this is! Umm, umm, umm!"
giggled Molly, as if she found something most amusing in the food she
smacked her lips over in such a very strange manner.
"Well, Molly Breckenridge, one thing I can say for you. That is: it's a
good thing Miss Rhinelander isn't here to see you now. You--you act like
a little pig. Excuse me, but you really do."
"Cats do like fish. Maybe it's a cat. Let's call it a cat, anyway,"
answered Molly, in no wise offended by her chum's plain speech.
Then lifting her voice she began to call: "Kitty! Kitty!
Kitty--kitty--kitty--kitty--kitty--come!" as fast as she could speak.
Just then Mrs. Cook came out to them to remove their plates and bring
them generous portions of "John's Delight," a dessert which Molly
declared was "first cousin to a Christmas plum pudding," and over which
she was tempted to smack her lips in earnest, not pretence. A momentary
soberness touched her merry face, however, when the hostess observed
with keen regret:
"I am so sorry Son isn't here to do the honors of this little picnic. I
don't see where he can have gone. His dinner on shore is always such a
pleasure to him and besides--I wanted him to meet you all in a private
fashion, not as a bugler aboard-ship."
"Maybe--maybe he is--_is_ doing the honors!" said Molly, half choking
over the strange remark. "Maybe he's--he can see--he's rather shy, isn't
he? The sailor said they called him the 'Bashful Bugler.' But he--he
bugles beautifully, especially first calls to meals which a seasick girl
can't eat. I--"
Then she stopped abruptly. Mrs. Cook was looking at her with much the
same expression Dorothy's mobile face had worn; and again from overhead
came that ominous crackle of breaking twigs. Also, a few crushed leaves
fluttered to the ground and caused Dorothy to exclaim:
"Must be a pretty big cat to tear things like that. Did you see it? Do
you suppose it's a wildcat? Don't they have all sorts of creatures in
the Nova Scotia woods? Do you suppose it's wild--"
"It certainly is. It's about the wildest thing I ever met--of its size.
Isn't this pudding delicious? If I was a hungry, a sea-starved cat how
angry I should be to be kept out of my share of it just by a couple of
girls. Girls are cats' natural enemies. Sometimes girls eat cats--if
they're nice, purry, pussy-cats! Some cats have blue eyes, and
some--Why, Papa! Are you ready? Going so soon?"
"Yes, dear. I can't wait any longer. I am greatly disappointed in not
seeing Melvin again; but possibly he may run up to the station before
the train starts. I'll try to be there early. As early as I can, though
I have some little affairs here still to attend to. Good-by, Mrs. Cook.
I think the plan we have discussed is the best all round. It will be a
test, so to speak. There is nothing like life in the woods together to
break down all barriers of shyness or reserve.
"Thank you, cordially, for your hospitality. I haven't enjoyed a dinner
so much in many a day. I will see you again, if we return this way, and
I will keep you informed of my address if our plan falls through and we
have to try some other."
Deeply moved, the little mother began to utter her own profuse thanks;
for what the listening girls did not know. But these were promptly
suppressed by the Judge's manner of saying:
"Don't do that, yet, my dear lady. Wait and prove Ephraim's words are
true. And now good-by again. I had hoped to have you and my sister meet,
but our unexpected departure has prevented that until some more
fortunate future day."
He raised his hat, bowed profoundly, and walked away; the girls making
their adieus and expressing their own thanks for hospitality received in
a manner which did credit to Miss Rhinelander's training. Only Molly's
cheek burned with an unusual blush, and she did not lift her eyes to
Mrs. Cook's as readily and affectionately as Dorothy did.
The latter, indeed, was to receive a rare tribute; for the lady followed
her to the street and slipping inside the front door broke from her
beautiful Gloxinias a handful of blossoms and gave them to the girl,
saying:
"My dear, I'm sure you will appreciate these; and I'm equally sure you
and I have much in common. Good-by. May all good things attend you."
Then she kissed the red lips which had impulsively kissed her and
watched them all out of sight.
But she did not kiss Molly; and though that young person would not have
expected such a caress, she was for an instant jealous of that bestowed
upon Dorothy.
The Judge waited for them to join him and taking a hand of each, in his
fatherly fashion, remarked:
"I find that sailor's widow a very charming woman and a perfect hostess.
No apologies for what she had to offer, though in her heart a slight
regret that it was not of some sort more expensive. A pity Melvin didn't
appear. I would have liked to study him in his mother's presence. One
can always tell what a boy is by the way he treats his mother; and I
wasn't pleased that he so disregarded her call to dinner, because she
said he had been there when I knocked and after we had entered the
garden itself."
A sudden comprehension of the state of things flashed through Dorothy's
mind, and she turned her eyes inquiringly toward Molly, who flushed,
hesitated, and finally burst forth:
"He couldn't come, Papa dear, because--because I wouldn't let him! He
got caught in the trap of his own horrid bashfulness."
Somehow Molly was no longer giggling, as she had been at intervals ever
since they reached the cottage. Things didn't look as "funny" as they
had a few minutes before; nor was she pleased to have the Judge stop
short on the path and demand:
"Explain yourself, daughter."
"Why it's easy enough. When that Melvin boy, that bugler, saw us coming
to that porch he was scared stiff. He just looked at us a second, then
scrambled up that lattice-work to the top of that arbor or whatever it
is, and--course he had to stay there. That's why I sat down on those
steps. Why I wanted my dinner out there. Oh! it was the funniest thing!
A great big boy like him to stay up on such an uncomfortable place just
because two girls whom he'll never see again had sat down beneath him.
Of course, he'd have to pass us to answer his mother's call to dinner;
and he'd rather go without that than do it. Oh! it was too funny for
words! And when the leaves fell Dolly thought it was the 'cat.' She
wondered if it was a 'wildcat,' and I said 'yes, it was wild!' Oh! dear!
I was so amused!"
Dorothy laughed. To her the affair had also its "too funny" side, now
that she understood it. But the Judge did not laugh. If he felt any
secret amusement at the girlish prank he did not betray it in his
expression, which was the sternest his daughter had ever seen when bent
upon her idolized self.
"Well, Molly, you certainly have distinguished yourself. The joke which
might have been harmless under some circumstances was an abominable
rudeness under these. I am ashamed of you. I shall expect you to write a
note of apology to Mrs. Cook, before you leave Yarmouth. And as for
never seeing Melvin again, let me set you right. I have invited the lad
to join us for our entire summer vacation. Understand?"
Alas! She understood but too well. Yet if a bomb had exploded at her
feet she could hardly have been more astonished.