MRS. CALVERT PLANS AN INFAIR
Instead of being scolded for her escapade Molly found herself a sort of
heroine. Nothing could exceed the tenderness of her thankful father, nor
the interest of all the campers. The signal shots had brought them all
back to the camp, and there the two lads went immediately to work to
cook for the girl the most wonderful of suppers. Monty had caught some
of Melvin's deftness at the task and was most ambitious to show Molly
his newly acquired skill. Also, at the first opportunity, when the Judge
had for a moment released his darling's hand to rise and greet Farmer
Grimm coming through the woods, the boy proudly pulled from his pocket a
few small coins and displayed them upon his palm.
"See them, Miss Molly? Hmm. Those are mine. My own.
I--earned--them--myself!"
He paused so long to let this amazing statement sink into her mind that
Melvin called:
"Come on, Mont! No loafing! Fetch another bit of wood and get on your
hurry-up step! Merimee covered this fire so snug he nigh put it out,
but wise enough, too. A fire in the forest isn't a laughing matter.
Look out! Don't poke it, you clumsy, else you'll tip over that
coffee-pot. First time we've had a lady to visit us don't want to act
the blunder-head, do you?"
"Oh! hush, Bugle! No call to bulldoze a fellow just because you happened
to be first on the spot! What made you think of carrying that thing,
anyway?"
Molly herself drew near to hear the answer. She was wondering at the
fact of their jolly comradeship, which was now so evident; and at
Monty's pride over a little money--he who had cared so little for it
once. She was wondering at many things, and when Melvin did not at once
reply she repeated Monty's question.
"Melvin, how did you happen to take the bugle?"
"Why--why--I don't know, but I fancy my mother would say that Providence
put it into my mind. My mother believes that Providence has a Hand in
everything, don't you know? Anyhow, I'm glad I did take it. Without it
and you hearing it we might have wandered right past that very
place--one spot looks so much like another in the woods at night."
"Melvin, would you sell me that bugle? It was that saved my life, maybe,
if the animals I thought about had come or if--Would you?" asked Molly,
softly, and with a pathetic clasping of her hands, which trembled again
now, as she recalled past perils.
"No, Molly, I won't sell it to you. I'll give it to you, if you'll take
it that way, and only wish it were a better one. It's the cheapest made.
It had to be, don't you know?"
For a moment the girl hesitated. She did not like to rob the lad of his
only musical enjoyment and she felt that he could not afford the gift.
Then she remembered that there were other bugles in the world and that
she had but to suggest to her father a sort of exchange for the better,
and so satisfy both herself and Melvin. So she said simply:
"I shall prize it as the greatest treasure in the world, and I thank
you, I--I can't say much--I can't talk when I feel most--but don't you
know how I feel? About my teasing you whenever I had the chance and--and
lots of things? I'll take the bugle if--if 'you'll call the slate washed
clean,' as Dolly says, and we can begin all over again?" She held out
her hand, entreatingly, and the shy lad took it for a moment, then
dropped it as if its touch had burned. A sudden wave of his old
bashfulness had swept over him, for though he had gained much
self-confidence during those weeks in camp it would be a long time
before he conquered the timidity of his nature, if he ever did.
Then she asked Monty how he had earned money in such a place as that and
he answered proudly:
"Made myself generally useful. The Prex hired me to wait on him and keep
his traps in order sometimes--when the other old 'Boys' would let him
be 'coddled.' Every man for himself, you know, out here. But the Prex is
odd. He wants his boots blacked, or shoes, that he puts on after he
takes off his hunting ones and I've 'shined' 'em for him like any street
bootblack that ever did my own. Fact! Fancy what my mother would say!
Master Montmorency Vavasour-Stark blacking shoes in order to get a bit
of pocket-money! But I tell you what, Molly Breckenridge, I like it. I'm
going to have one of these dimes made into a watch-charm and wear it
always, just to remind me how fine I felt over the first, the very
first, cent I ever honestly earned. And it's taught me one thing. I'll
quit idling. I shall never be a scholar like long-legged Jim, but I'll
_do_ things, I mean it. I'll find out what I can do best, and I think I
can guess that, and then I'm going ahead to do it. I'm going to ask Papa
to stop giving me money. I'm going to shock my mother by going to work.
But--that Prex is a wise old chap. He's taught hundreds, likely
thousands, of boys to make decent men and he's trying to teach me. He
says--"
"O, Monty! Quit! I've broiled that salmon steak to the Queen's taste and
the coffee's settled as clear as that spring water and--Supper's ready,
Miss Molly Breckenridge. Will your ladyship partake?" demanded Melvin,
interrupting.
Such a supper that was! Odd, that all the campers who had fared so
heartily just a little while before should suddenly be "taken hungry"
again and beg an invitation too. Even Farmer Grimm and his man waited
to feast with the others before riding home to carry the good news; then
departed, with the forgiven but shame-faced Anton riding between them
and with the precious packet of letters transferred from his pocket to
his master's for safe-keeping.
Molly stayed the night to rest; lying snug in her father's tent while he
sat long awake thinking of many things; but mostly thankful for the
safety of the little maid whose love and life meant all the world to
him. The dear, repentant child; who had not gone to sleep till, all
alone with him in the seclusion of his tent, she had clasped her arms
about his neck and begged his pardon for all her thoughtlessness.
"It was terrible there in the dark woods when I woke and found I was
lost, alone; but that wasn't half so terrible, it didn't make me feel
half so bad in here," laying her hand upon her heart, "as it does
knowing how unhappy I've made everybody and how much trouble given.
Seems if I never would be heedless and forget again, Papa dearest, seems
if! But I'm just only Molly--and I haven't much faith in your Molly,
Judge Breckenridge!"
What could he do but kiss her quivering lips and smile at the whimsical
way in which she expressed her contriteness? And, after all, would he
have had her greatly different from what she was by nature, just his
great-hearted, impulsive, precious Molly?
Next morning she rode home in great state. With Guide Merimee heading
the little cavalcade and with masters Melvin and Monty on either side
when that was practical for the crowding of the trees, and as van or
rear guard it was not. Because the road was straight enough to one who
knew it, as did the half-breed hunter, and that happy company followed
him with no thought of care. Monty was laden with wild-flowers of every
sort for Dorothy; Melvin had store of forsaken birds' nests, lichens,
and curious bits of stone or bark for Miss Greatorex to add to her
"collection," which Mrs. Hungerford assured her would cost more than it
was worth to pass the revenue officers. "No matter if it does!" cried
the happy teacher, "since it will be such an addition to Miss
Rhinelander's museum."
The guide brought fish, freshly caught that morning before daybreak, and
enough of game to feast even that farm crowd of "hands;" and having
tarried long enough to deliver the packet to Mrs. Hungerford, to assure
her that her brother was well and more than happy now; that he and the
other "Boys" intended to lengthen their vacation by a few weeks, in fact
to "stay just as long as they could;" to add that by no means must Molly
ride "off grounds" again, alone, and that Anton was not to be punished
for his "prank;" and to partake of Mrs. Grimm's most excellent food and
drink. Then he called the lads, now almost reluctant to leave the
pleasant place of peace and plenty, and rode away again, they following
and looking back again and again, to wave farewell.
"I never saw so great an improvement in two boys as in those!" said
Auntie Lu, standing to watch them disappear toward the forest, with
Molly fast in her arms and Dorothy beside her; then laughed at the
rather awkward manner in which she had expressed herself, as she saw
Miss Greatorex regarding her. But for once that estimable person was not
critical of others' speech or grammar; and murmured with an air of great
content:
"So many more weeks of rest and time to write up my travels."
Mrs. Hungerford sighed, but conquered the slight loneliness that now
oppressed her and set to work herself upon a vigorous correspondence and
the carrying forward of a matter her brother had outlined for her.
Sometimes in writing these letters she asked Dorothy to sit beside her
and would frequently look at the girl as if she were studying her
features or her manner. At such time Dolly felt a little awkward and
perplexed, yet always, in some indefinable manner, as if this scrutiny
were for her own good. Then Auntie Lu would laugh and call the girl her
"Inspiration," and write the faster.
Those last weeks on the old Farm were very quiet, uneventful, yet most
happy ones; and the two girls passed much of the time in the cool,
shadowy library, among the fine literature therein collected. For Molly
had no further desire at present for "larks" and began, instead, to find
out how much happiness one may find between the covers of a book.
Dorothy introduced her to Dickens, and thereafter the merry maid needed
no urging to: "Do sit down and read and let me do so!"
* * * * *
One morning in that late summer time, Mrs. Betty Calvert was sitting on
a hotel veranda at the Springs. She was looking very handsome and
queenly, in her white gown, her piled-up, snow-white hair, and her "air
of one who belonged" to an old "aristocracy." A little table was beside
her, heaped with her morning's mail; for here, even as in her old home
at Bellvieu, she surrounded herself with more such reading matter than
she could use. But the letters were duly read and re-read, some of them;
and at last she dropped one to her lap, and remarked to a gentleman near
her:
"Cousin Seth, Lucretia Breckenridge always was a fool!"
"Hard judgment, Cousin Betty. I should have given quite the contrary. I
always thought her a very sweet, sensible, lovable woman."
"Hmm. You see a deal of 'sweetness' in this silly old world. But look
here. What sensible woman would write a letter of twenty pages when one
would do? All to convince me of something I already knew."
"Don't expect me to answer that. Go on and tell me what's 'meat' in so
much 'cocoanut.'"
"She believes--and she takes pages to justify her belief--that she has
traced the parentage of one Dorothy, a foundling! Indeed! Why, Seth,
those people up in that unhappy Nova Scotia--unhappy to be afflicted
with two such foolish visitors--they think themselves detectives fit to
rank with the world's greatest. I thought Schuyler had some sense if
Lucretia hadn't. If they weren't already there I'd bid them both 'go to
Halifax' as I used to be bidden when I was a naughty little girl and
plagued my nurse. She makes a great ado about Dorothy's 'unhappiness.' I
can't believe that. I never, never saw a happier child in all my life.
The idea! Lucretia is just as simple as she was always. She's set out to
find who Dorothy's parents are or were and she thinks she's found. The
idea! The impertinent minx!"
The "Learned Blacksmith" did not reply, but calmly perused his own
paper. He was a blacksmith transformed, and he seemed to fit into this
environment as readily and completely as he had fitted the simple life
of the old smithy under the Great Balm tree. He had recovered his health
but was sojourning for a little time in this old resort of his youth,
meeting those who were lads and maidens then but now as venerable as
himself. Few among them were as alert, as vigorous and as young of heart
as Cousin Betty and himself; and they two had, as a younger guest
remarked: "Been having the time of their lives. Why, that black-eyed old
lady has more attention this day than any of us girls; and as for wit
and repartee, there isn't her equal this year at our Springs."
After a few moments of this silence, during which Mrs. Calvert tapped
her white slipper impatiently, she interrupted her companion's reading
by an exclamation:
"Seth Winters, do put up that tiresome paper and listen. I don't believe
you've comprehended a single sentence you've looked at. I know. Your
eyes had that hungry-for-Dorothy look in them. Leastwise, if they
hadn't, the feel of it is in my own old heart. A pretty how'd-ye-do,
when that little Lu Breckenridge-Hungerford sets out to hint to me of my
duty! a slip of a girl like her--the saucy chit!"
Old Seth laughed, so merrily that others drew near to learn the sport;
seeing which, Mistress Elizabeth Cecil Somerset-Calvert, rather
haughtily arose and remarked:
"Come, Cousin Seth, I'd like to take a walk."
Pacing the green grove, up and down its smooth paths, they were
undisturbed; but now all desire for conversation had left Mrs. Betty.
She was, indeed, in deep reflection; wondering if a certain course she
had followed were all for the best as she had hitherto esteemed it; and
the only hint she gave to the blacksmith was the sentence:
"I wanted to wait till she came of her own accord. I've never quite
forgiven her for preferring that woman Martha to me."
Then she went on in a silence which he knew her too well to disturb and
finally she announced:
"I think I'll give a house party at Deerhurst. A regular old-fashioned
'infair,' though it'll be no bride for whom the festivity is given.
After the assembly--what seems best! Those Breckenridges and their
camping friends; including the old 'boys' and young ones. The foster
parents, of course; and Johnnie must be written to about bringing that
sealed letter of mine, that I entrusted to his care. I marked it not to
be opened till after my death; but I think I'll postpone dying--if God
wills!--for I'm not nearly so dumpish as I was the day I sealed that
packet and set my directions upon it. I may open it and I may not. I may
oblige Lu Breckenridge by letting her think she's a wonderful clever
woman, and I may take the wind out of her sails by telling her--the
truth. What do you say? Will you go along?"
"Will I not? I should go anyway, whether your house-warming-infair
materializes or not. I hope, though, you won't change your mind, because
I long for the mountain and my peaceful life upon it. I hope you'll
stick to this notion longer than some others."
"Then come in and help me write the invitations and set things in trim
for such a big entertaining. After they're written I can't change my
mind, you know, though I rarely do. I scorn the imputation. Only, ought
I to do it? Will it be for the best?"
"Oh! make haste, Betty Calvert! If I don't get those invitations off in
the first mail I'll never be allowed to send them at all!"
He spoke jestingly, yet not without deep sympathy. The "change of mind"
she intimated meant much, very much to little Dorothy; whose best
interests nobody had so much in mind as these two old people with the
young hearts. But his own desire was now for the clearing of all that
"mystery" which had enveloped the child from her infancy and which only
they two could solve.
The notes were written and most promptly posted. Then other matters were
put in line to make the reopening of Deerhurst the most memorable event
in its history. Servants were ordered thither, disused rooms were aired
and fitted for occupancy, every scrap of fallen leaf or intrusive weed
removed from its driveways and paths, and in all the glory of its
early-autumn beauty the fine old place awaited the coming of its
mistress and her guests.
First of all to arrive was one James Barlow, with two kindly happy dogs,
leaping and barking and doing their canine best to express their
happiness at seeing "home" once more. "Home" it was to the lad, also, as
he felt it now; tugging stoutly upon the chains of the Great Danes, lest
in their exuberant joy they should break away from him to gambol in the
geranium beds that glorified the lawn.
Around from the vine-draped back porch came old Ephraim and Dinah; Hans
and Griselda Roemer, who greeted Jim in their hearty German fashion, as
if he were their own son come home. And bless me! If out of that great
kitchen didn't issue Ma Babcock herself, and all her daughters a-trail
behind!
"Why, Mrs. Babcock, you here? Surely, this is indeed a surprise!" cried
Jim, releasing the Danes to Ephraim's care and clasping the hands she
extended toward him.
"Well, then, it needn't be. Me and Mis' Calvert has been neighbors this
long while, years indeed. So what more natural than, when all the
company was comin' and help so hard to get--capable help, you
know--up-mounting, but that old Seth, the farrier, should write me the
invite to come and take a hold of things and see that they was the
rightest kind of right for such grand doings? So I come; and I had to
fetch the girls along, 'cause I never do leave them out of any the good
times I have myself. Baretta stop holdin' onto my skirt! You'll pull it
clean out the gathers and it's just fresh-washed and ironed. Claretta,
will you never, never quit suckin' your thumb? Make your manners pretty,
darlin', to this fine gentleman! Who, after all said, is nobody but Jim
Barlow, makin' the most of his chance. Why, Alfy! You bashful? Come and
shake hands with your old friend and don't act simple!"
So Alfaretta came forward, a new modesty upon her and a change for the
better in her whole appearance, even after so short a time as this one
summer. And both happening to recall how she had greeted him when first
this "hero" was presented to her, they laughed and the "ice" which had
formed over their friendship during separation speedily melted.
"Pa Babcock, you're askin' for? Oh, he's well, that kind don't never
have nothing the matter with their health, though they're always
thinking they have. He stopped with his sister till she got tired and
shook him. Then he went to Chicago, where there's such a lot of silly
Nanarchists like himself, and there he's stayed. I hope will stay, too,
till the children get growed. He seems to be makin' his salt, some kind
of livin', and he's happy as a clam in high water. He hasn't a thing to
do but talk and talkin' suits him to a T. Best come in and get washed
up. A letter come from Dorothy's parents and the pair of 'em will be to
the Landing by the evening boat. Or one by train and one by boat. Anyhow
they'll both be there and I 'low they'd admire, just admire that it
should be you drove down to meet 'em. Me and Alfy and Dinah'll be right
on hand here to see they get their supper and to show 'em where they're
to sleep. You best hurry down to your own room to the gate-house and
clean yourself. You're powerful dusty and your face needs washin'. Alfy!
What you gigglin' at? Ain't I tellin' the truth? Ain't he a sight?"
"Yes, Ma, he is; one 'good for sore eyes,' as you sometimes say;" and
with this inelegant remark Miss Alfaretta walked away while laughing,
happy Jim sped downwards to the vine-wreathed lodge at the great
entrance gate. He had been happy all that summer, never more so; yet
happier than ever now as he stepped into the freshly furbished upper
chamber which was his own, his very home. All the dear familiar books
on the shelves, the snowy bed, the dainty neatness of the place that
showed the motherly touch of old Griselda everywhere, even to the bunch
of flowers upon the little table.
Dolly would have said that the bouquet looked "Dutchy," like the kind
hands which had arranged it; with its conflicting colors and its tightly
crowded bunches of bloom. But Dorothy wasn't there to comment, there was
nobody who could see him, and the orphan lad who had not yet outgrown
his boyish tenderness suddenly stooped and kissed it. Was this in memory
of a mother he had never known, or because of his gratitude for his
"home?"