IN EVANGELINE LAND
The obliging operator at the telegraph office was almost at her wits'
end. She had never been besieged so early in the morning and required to
send so many lengthy messages, nor have them come crowding one another
so confusingly. The strange part of it all was that although they were
intended for one person, a Mr. Ebenezer Stark of Boston, there were
three persons telegraphing him.
One was a stout lady of exceedingly fashionable appearance and most
peremptory manner. As seemed fitting the first reply of Mr. Ebenezer
Stark was for her, and assured her that he would meet her at the wharf,
with a carriage, upon the arrival of the first steamer out from
Yarmouth. It also informed her that he had already sent her word by
post--that letter could follow her home--of the dangerous illness of her
mother and that she should make all possible haste. Thus far her message
suited him exactly. He made no mention of their son nor did she. It went
without saying that Monty would accompany his mother upon her return
trip.
Judge Breckenridge was also an early riser. He had met Monty hurrying
down the back street toward the little railway station and the office in
its corner, and had greeted him with gay surprise:
"Heigho, lad! Whither so fast and so early?"
"Trying to get ahead of Mamma."
"Why, Montmorency!" cried the gentleman, with an assumed sternness yet a
twinkle in his eye.
"Fact. She's on the road somewhere, but she had to wait for them to
hitch up a rig first. Thinks she can't walk these few blocks alone, I
suppose, and didn't suspect I could have escorted her. But 'Lovey'
didn't tell her his plans till he knows if he can carry them out. But
I'm glad to see you. I didn't want to do anything sort of underhand with
you, you know. Say, Judge, does your invitation to go camping still hold
good? After my looking such a muff and acting it?"
"Certainly. If your parents permit, I shall be glad to have you. I think
that a few weeks' association with men like my friends would give you a
new idea of true manliness; and I can promise you to hear more good
stories from the 'Boys' than you ever heard in your life."
"Thank you, sir. I'm going to wire Papa to let me stay. What he says
goes, even with Mamma. He lets her have her way about my school, and
clothes and all that stuff, but he hasn't ever quite let go of me
himself. If it hadn't been for Papa I'd be a bigger muff than I am now.
Only he's so awfully absorbed in business that he never takes a
vacation himself or does anything except pile up the cash and shove it
out for Mamma to spend. Beg pardon, I've no business to tell you, or
bother you, with our affairs. I only wanted to know in case he says
'Yes.'"
They were almost at the end of their short walk and the Judge's face
lightened with a whimsical expression, as he answered:
"Well, Monty lad, muffs are mighty handy sometimes. I heard Lucretia say
they wore them large last winter! If I take a muff into camp I shall
expect it to add to the general comfort of the party. Ready to warm the
heart of anybody who happens to get lonely or out of sorts."
"This muff will do its duty, sir. You'll see; if--"
He left his sentence unfinished and although his response was delayed
till after Mrs. Stark's had been received he did not complain of it, but
smilingly handed it to the Judge to peruse.
His outward telegram had been:
"Papa, let me stay;" and the incoming one was: "All right. Stay."
He did not inform his mother why he was there at the office so early and
she did not inquire. She attributed it to his filial affection and was
accordingly touched by it. She petted him as usual, and carried him back
to the hotel in her phaeton, while she thrilled with satisfaction at the
knowledge she could at last get away from a benighted region where no
Sunday trains were run.
The Judge's messages were last, and the longest. His outgoing one gave
Mr. Ebenezer Stark a sketchy outline of his vacation plans, announced
the gentlemen who would share it with him, and added a formal invitation
for Montmorency to be of the party, if agreeable to the lad's friends.
Mr. Stark's reply was heartily grateful, expressed his appreciation of
the Judge's courtesy and good nature in "loading himself with a boy of
the calf age. A calf of good enough pedigree, but needed turning out to
pasture away from the mother," and a little more to that nature.
The rub came when trunks were being packed and Montmorency announced
that his "things" needn't be put in; except the "dudish" ones which he
wouldn't want in a vacation camp.
Mrs. Stark was so astonished that she was silent and during that
interval her son talked and explained with a rapidity that left her no
chance for reply. "Father says so," was the final argument that clinched
the matter; and she wisely refrained from further controversy,
reflecting that "Father" might alter his opinion when she had met him
and reported the true state of things. Then he would, of course,
promptly recall his son and heir from a region so fraught with dangers
and temptations as this Province.
Therefore, the parting was effected with less friction than Monty had
anticipated, and he watched the train that bore his too-solicitous
mother out of sight with a delight that, for the present, knew no
regret. He was fully in earnest to "make a man" of himself, and felt
that he would be better able to succeed if freed from the indulgence
which had surrounded him from his cradle.
After allowing himself the relief of one "pigeon-wing" on the
station-platform, he sprang up to the steps at the rear of the hotel
stage which had brought departing guests to the train and hugged Tommy,
perched there, till the little fellow squealed.
"Good enough, Tommy boy! I'm to rough it now to my heart's content. Ever
been hunting or fishing in the woods, younker?"
"Yep. Go most every year--that is, I've been once--with the Boss. He's
the best hunter anywhere's around. It was him got all those moose and
caribou heads that are in the lobby. Oh! you bet it's cracky! I'm going
this fall if--if I'm let, and my mother don't make me go to school."
"Mothers--Well, mothers have a bad way of spoiling a fellow's fun, eh,
lad? But after all, they're a pretty good arrangement. I hope my
mother'll have a good trip over to Boston; and see? Look there?"
With that he pulled from his pocket a handful of silver, explaining that
when she traveled Mrs. Stark always provided herself with a large
quantity of "change" expressly for "tips," and that she had generously
handed the amount on to her son, since she was simply "going home" and
wouldn't need it.
"More in my suit-case, too, Tommy. But--I'm going to give it all away
the minute I get back to the hotel."
Tommy's eyes almost bulged from his head, as he ejaculated in intense
amazement:
"You _never!_"
"Fact. I'm going to begin right now."
Tommy nearly fell off the step. There in his own small hand lay the
greater part of what had been in Montmorency's, but he couldn't believe
in his own good fortune. Despite the tips he received at the hotel--they
were neither many nor generous--master Thomas Ransom was a very poor
little fellow. He held his position at the inn by the fact that he was
willing to work "for his board" and whatever the guests might chance to
bestow upon him. The landlord had the name of a "skin-flint," whether
justly or not the boarders didn't know.
It was to his interest, however, to serve _them_ well and he did it; but
it was rumored that the "help" fared upon the leavings of the guests'
plates, and in that atmosphere of healthy appetites such leavings were
scant. Anyway, Tommy was always hungry, and the fact showed in his
pinched, eager little face.
"You're foolin'. Here 'tis back;" he finally gasped, extending his hand
toward Monty with a pitiful attempt at a smile.
"Fooling? Not one bit. You put that where it's safe, and the first
chance you get run into the village to some restaurant and get yourself
a good square meal. Then go to the circus, if you want. I see by the
placards that one is coming."
"Oh! Pshaw! I don't know what to say. But, if you do mean it, I ain't
going to no restaurant. I'm going home to my mother the first leave off
I get and give it to her. She can't make her rent hardly, sewing, and
she'll cook a dinner for me to the queen's taste! Wish you'd come and
eat it with us."
"Wish I could," answered Monty, with a warm glow in his heart. He hadn't
often had such a look of rapturous gratitude turned upon him and it gave
him a most delightful sensation. "But you see we're off by the afternoon
train. Going to hurry along now till we get into camp. See you later,
maybe."
Then they were at the hotel entrance and master Tommy made haste to
bestow his treasure in the safest place he knew until his brief hour of
recreation should arrive and he could take it home. But how he worked
that day! Even the keen-eyed proprietor could find no manner of fault
with the nimble little fellow, who answered bells like a flash, so
smilingly trotted about with pitchers of ice-water, and so regretfully
watched the departure of the Breckenridge party from the house. And in
justice to him be it said this regret was after all and most sincerely
for the courteous treatment all of them had given him.
"Some folks--_some_ folks think a bell-boy hain't no feelings, but I
might ha' been--Why, I might ha' been _them_, their own folks, so nice
they all were to me;" thought the lad, watching the afternoon train
bearing them all away, and secretly wiping the tears from his eyes.
However, even for him, deserted as his childish heart felt then, there
was comfort. The circus was coming to-morrow! It would be his day off
and he had the money to pay for his ticket and one for Ma!
The train was nearing Wolfville where the travelers were to leave it for
a brief visit to "Evangeline land" before proceeding to Halifax whence
the campers would set out. Aunt Lucretia had checked off the various
stations from her time-table and now announced:
"Better get your things together, everybody. Next stop will be ours."
Then Montmorency Vavasour-Stark got his courage to the sticking point
and went forward to where the Judge stood looking through the car door
at the landscape whirling by.
"Judge Breckenridge will you do me a favor? Another one, I mean, for
you've done a lot already."
"Certainly, if it's within my power."
"It is, easy enough. I want you to take this and keep it for me. I want
to actually give it away, or put it beyond my reach. I've been thinking
it's the boys without money that amount to something. I want to make
myself poor and see if I'm worth 'shucks' aside from my father's cash."
He held out a fat pocketbook but, for a moment, the Judge did not
appear to see it. He looked the lad critically over, his keen, but
kindly eyes interested and yet doubtful. Then he said:
"I don't like whimsies. A person who makes a resolution and doesn't keep
it weakens rather than strengthens his character. Have you the slightest
idea what it means to be 'poor,' or even like Melvin back yonder, who
has but a very small wage to use for his own?"
"I don't suppose I have. But I'd like to try it during all the time I'm
over here in the Province. What I mean is that you should pay all my
necessary expenses just as you pay for the others; and beyond that I
don't want a cent."
"Melvin will earn a little for his work in camp. He is to cook and do
whatever is needed. There will be an Indian guide with us, and he, of
course, will have his regular price per day, or week. Beyond these two
helpers we 'Boys' will do everything else ourselves. It is our custom. I
can't hire you and pay you, as an extra. If that were done it would have
to be by some other of the party and it's not likely."
The gentleman's tone was more grave than the lad felt was necessary, but
it made him reflect a little deeper himself. At last he again offered
the purse, saying:
"I mean it. It's my chance. The first one I ever had to see if I can
deny myself anything. Please try me."
"Very well, lad, and I congratulate you on the pluck that makes the
effort. However--your last chance! Once made, once this pocketbook
passes into my care it becomes mine for the rest of our stay together."
"All right, sir. That's exactly what I want."
"Do you know how much is in it?"
"To a cent. And it's a great deal too much for a good-for-nothing like
me."
"Don't say that, Montmorency. I wouldn't take a 'good-for-nothing'
under my care for so long a time. You forget I already have a 'muff'
on hand. I congratulate myself, this time, on having secured a
'good-for-something.' Ah! here we are!"
The Judge took the purse and coolly slipped it into his own pocket,
merely adding:
"I will also count the contents and make a note of them as soon as I
can. As your expenses have been paid by yourself until now we'll begin
our account from this moment. When we part company, soon or late, you
shall have an itemized account of all that is used from your store."
Then the conductor came through the car calling:
"Wolfville! All out for Wolfville!"
"Out" they were all, in a minute, and again the "Flying Bluenose" was
speeding on toward the end of its route.
"This is the nearest, or best, point from which to make our excursion to
Grand Pre and old Acadia, which our beloved Longfellow made famous by
his poem. You'll find yourselves 'Evangelined' on every hand while
you're here. Glad it's so pleasant. We won't have to waste time on
account of the weather."
They found comfortable quarters for the night and longer if desired and
were early to bed. The girls to dream of the hapless maid whose story
thrilled their romantic souls; and Molly went to sleep with an abridged
copy of the poem under her pillow.
Early in the morning she and Dorothy took a brisk walk through the
pretty village and peered into the shop windows where, indeed, the name
"Evangeline" seemed tacked to most articles of commerce. So frequently
was it displayed that when they met a meditative cow pacing along the
dewy street Molly exclaimed:
"I wonder if that's Evangeline's 'dun white cow,' whatever 'dun white'
may be like. She looks ancient enough and--Oh! she's coming right toward
us!"
Molly was afraid of cows and instinctively hid herself behind Dolly, who
laughed and remarked:
"Poor old creature! She looks as if she might have lived in the days of
the Acadians, she's so thin and gaunt. Yet the whole street is
grass-bordered if she chose to help herself. But isn't this glorious?
Can you hardly wait till we get to Grand Pre? It's only a few miles away
and I'd almost rather walk than not."
"You'll not be let to walk, mind that. My father has had enough of
things happening to us youngsters. I heard him tell Auntie Lu that none
of us must be allowed out of sight of some of them, the grown-ups, till
we were landed safe on that farm, and Auntie laughed. She said she
agreed with him but she wasn't so sure about even a farm being utterly
safe from adventures. So we'll all have to walk just niminy-piminy till
then. We shouldn't be here if Miss Greatorex hadn't said she too wanted
to 'exercise.' Now, she's beckoning to us and we must turn back. Come
away from staring over into that garden! That hedge of sweet-peas is not
for you, honey, badly as you covet it!"
"All right, I'll come. But I wish, I wish Father John could see them. I
never saw any so big and free-blooming as they are in this beautiful
Province."
"It's the moisture and coolness of the air, Auntie Lu says. Now, Miss
Greatorex, do make Dolly Doodles walk between us, else she'll never tear
herself away from the lovely gardens we pass."
But they were not late to breakfast, nevertheless. They had learned at
last that nothing so annoyed the genial Judge as want of punctuality. He
planned the hours of his day to a nicety and by keeping to his plans
managed to get a great deal of enjoyment for everybody.
Already carriages to take them on the drive to Grand Pre and the old
Acadian region had been ordered and were at the door when they had
breakfasted and appeared on the piazza. The two girls were helped into
the smaller open wagon where Melvin sat holding the reins and visibly
proud of the confidence reposed in him, and on the front seat of this
the Judge also took his place. The ladies with Monty and a driver
occupied the comfortable surrey; and already other vehicles were
entering the hotel grounds, engaged by other tourists for the same trip.
Monty looked back with regret at the other young folks and longed to ask
the Judge to exchange places; then laughed to himself as he remembered
that it was no longer his place to ask favors--a penniless boy as he had
become!
That was a never-to-be-forgotten day for all the party. No untoward
incident marked it, but so well-known is the story of that region that
it needs no repetition here. Of course they visited the famous well
whence "Evangeline" drew water for her herd, and almost the original
herd might have fed in the meadow surrounding it, so peaceful were the
cattle cropping the grass there. They saw the "old willows" and the
ancient Covenanter church, wherein they all inscribed their names upon
the pages of a great book kept for that special purpose.
The church especially interested Dorothy, with its quaint old pulpit and
sounding board, its high-backed pews and small-paned windows; and when
she wandered into the old burying ground behind, with its
periwinkle-covered graves, a strange sadness settled over her.
The whole story had that tendency and the talk of "unknown graves"
roused afresh in her mind the old wonder:
"Where are my own parents' graves, if they are dead? Where are _they_ if
they are still alive?"
With this in mind and in memory of these other unknown sleepers whose
ancient head-stones had moved her so profoundly, she gathered from the
confines of the field a bunch of that periwinkle, or myrtle which grew
there so abundantly. Thrusting this into the front of her jacket she
resolved to pack it nicely in wet moss and send it home to Alfaretta,
with the request that she would plant it in the cottage garden. Then she
rejoined the others at the gate and the ride was continued to another
point of interest called "Evangeline Beach." Why or wherefore, nobody
explained; yet it was a pretty enough spot on the shore where a few
guests of a near-by hotel were bathing and where they all stopped to
rest their horses before the long ride home.
Dorothy was full of thoughts of home by then, and something in the color
of the horse which had drawn her hither awoke tender memories of pretty
Portia, now doubtless happily grazing on a dear mountain far away. With
this sentiment in mind she stooped and plucked a handful of grass and
held it under the nose of the pensive livery-nag.
But alas, for sentiment! Not the few blades of sea-grass appealed to the
creature who, while Dorothy's head was turned, stretched forth its own
and pulled the myrtle from the jacket and was contentedly munching it
when its owner discovered its loss.
"Dolly Doodles, whatever are you doing?" cried Molly, running up.
"She's got--he's got my 'Evangeline' vines! I'm getting--what I can!"
Molly shouted in her glee and the rest of the party drew near to also
enjoy. They had all alighted to walk about a bit and stretch their
limbs, and now watched in answering amusement the brief tussle between
maid and mare. It ended with the latter's securing the lion's share of
the goodly bunch; but myrtle vines are tough and Dorothy came off a
partial victor with one spray in her hand. It had lost most of its
leaves and otherwise suffered mischance, yet she was not wholly hopeless
of saving that much alive; and in any case the incident had banished all
morbid thoughts from her mind, and she was quite the merriest of all
during that long drive homeward to the hotel.
As they alighted Monty stepped gallantly forward and offered:
"When we get to Halifax I'll buy you a slender vase and you can keep it
in water till you go home yourself. Or I'll send back to that graveyard
and pay somebody to send you on a lot, after you get back to your own
home."
"Oh! thank you. That's ever so kind, and I'll be glad of the vase. But
you needn't send for any more vines. They wouldn't be the same as this I
gathered myself for darling Father John."
"But you shall have them all the same. They'd be just as valuable to him
if not to you and some of those boys that hung around the church would
pack it for a little money. I'll do it, sure."
"_Will_ you, Montmorency? _How?_" asked a voice beside him and the lad
looked up into the face of the Judge.
"No, sir, I won't! I'll have to take that offer back, Dorothy, take them
both back," and he flushed furiously at her surprised and questioning
glance. It was the first test he had made of his "poverty" and he found
it as uncomfortable as novel.