It was without misgiving that old Debby left the child to the healing
of the solitude and the sun, the little wholesome responsibility, the
unexacting companionship of the cat and the fowls. (This was before
the day of the yellow pup, which did not come upon the scene until the
following summer.) She had already learned that Barbara's promise was
a thing to depend upon; and she felt that Barbara's heart would now be
medicined more sweetly by silence than by words.
The problem to whose solution the dauntless old woman had set herself
was that of getting Barbara back to her aunt's house on terms that
should ward off any further discipline. With this end in view she
turned, as a matter of course, to Doctor Jim Pigeon. Debby's position
in Second Westings was theoretically that of an outlaw. She had a
mysterious past. She was obstinately refractory about going to
meeting. Without actually defying the authorities, she would quietly
and unobtrusively go her own way in regard to many matters which Second
Westings accounted momentous. Moreover, she was lamentably lacking in
that subservience to her betters which the aristocracy of Second
Westings held becoming. And she had knowledge that savoured of
witchcraft. She would certainly have felt the heavy hand of correction
more than once, and probably have been driven to seek a more humane
environment, but for the staunch befriending of Doctor Jim. Something
in the old woman's fearless independence appealed to both the big,
loud-voiced, soft-hearted brothers--but to Doctor Jim in particular.
He in particular came to perceive her clear common sense, to appreciate
the loyal and humane heart that lurked within her acrid personality.
He openly showed his favour, and stood between her and persecution,
till Second Westings taught itself to regard her offences as
privileged. So, though an outlaw, she became a useful and tolerated
one. She served surpassingly to point a moral in family admonitions.
She was much in favour as a bogy to frighten crying children into
silence. And furthermore, when deadly sickness chanced to fall upon a
household, and skilled help was lacking, and self-righteous prejudice
melted away in the crucible of anguish, then old Debby was wont to
appear unsummoned and work marvels by the magic of her nursing. Doctor
Jim had been known to declare defiantly that Debby Blue's nursing had
saved patients whom all his medicines could not cure,--whereto Doctor
John had retorted, with brotherly sarcasm, "In spite of your medicines,
Jim--in spite of them! Debby is the shield and buckler of your medical
reputation."
So it was of course that the old woman turned to Doctor Jim in her
difficulty. She knew that both brothers loved Barbara, and that both,
individually and collectively, had more influence with Mistress
Mehitable Ladd than any other living mortal could boast. She would
talk to Doctor Jim. Doctor Jim would talk to Doctor John. Doctor John
and Doctor Jim would together talk to Mistress Mehitable. And Barbara
would be taken back without penalty of further exhortation or
discipline. If not--well, old Debby's mind was made up as to what she
would do in such a distressing contingency. She would herself run away
with Barbara that same night, in cunning disguise and by devious ways,
and travel to find Uncle Bob.
But there was to be no need of such audacious adventuring. When Doctor
Jim heard what Barbara had done, he was sorely wrought up. He glared
fiercely and wonderingly; his shaggy eyebrows knitted and knotted as he
listened; he dashed his hands through his hair till the well dressed
locks were sadly disarranged. When Debby ceased speaking he sprang up
with an inarticulate roar, knocking over two chairs and one of the
andirons.
"They have gone too far with the child," he cried out at last,
mastering his ebullient emotions. "She is too high-strung for our rude
handling. I swear she shall not be persecuted any longer--not if I
have to take her away myself. No--not a word, not a word, Debby! Not
another word! I'll just step across the yard and speak to Doctor John.
Be good enough to wait here till I return."
Without hat or stick he ramped tempestuously across to his brother's
office, in the opposite wing of the big, white-porticoed, red-doored
house which they occupied together. He left old Debby well content
with the first step in her undertaking. She had but a little to wait
ere he returned, noisy, hurried, and decisive.
"Now, my good Debby," he shouted, "I'm ready to accompany you. I will
fetch Barbara myself. Doctor John is going over to lay our views
before Mistress Ladd, and I'll warrant that wise and gentle lady will
see the matter clearly, just as we do. Yes, yes, my good Debby, we
have all been forgetting that the little wild rose of Maryland cannot
be at once inured to the rigours of our New England air. Eh, what?"
When Doctor Jim and the old woman reached the cabin they found Barbara
sound asleep, curled up in the sun beside the stoop, one arm around the
gray-and-white cat, which lay, fast asleep also, against her breast.
There was a darkness about her eyes, a hurt droop at the corners of her
full red mouth, but the colour came wholesomely under the transparent
tan of her cheeks. The picture stirred a great ache in Doctor Jim's
childless heart, and with a tender growl he strode forward to snatch
her up from her hard couch.
"S't! Don't ye frighten the poor baby!" said old Debby. Whereupon
Doctor Jim went softly, mincing his big steps, and knelt down, and
gathered the little figure in his arms. Waking slowly, Barbara slipped
her arms around his neck, thrust her face under his chin, drew a long
sigh of satisfaction; and so, the revolt and cruel indignation for the
time all quenched in her wild spirit, she was carried down to the punt.
Everything seemed settled without explanation or argument or promise.
The trouble was all shifted to Doctor Jim's broad shoulders.
"Good-bye, Debby dear!" she murmured to the old woman, reaching down a
caressing hand; "I'll come to see you in a few days, as soon as Aunt
Hitty will let me!"
During the journey homeward Barbara threw off her languor, and became
animated as the punt surged ahead under Doctor Jim's huge strokes. The
conversation grew brisk, touching briefly such diverse topics as the
new bay mare which the doctor had just purchased from Squire Hopgood of
Westings Centre, and the latest point of exasperation between the
merchants of Boston and the officers of the king's customs at that
unruly port. This latter subject was one on which Doctor Jim and
Barbara had already learned to disagree with a kind of affectionate
ferocity. The child was a rebel in every fibre, while Doctor Jim had a
vigorous Tory prejudice which kept his power of polemic well occupied
in Second Westings. The two were presently so absorbed in controversy
that the rocky point of the morning's attempted tragedy was passed
without the tribute of a shudder or even a recognition. At last, with
a mighty, half wrathful surge upon the oars, Doctor Jim beached the
punt at the landing-place. As the distracted wave of his violence
seethed hissing up the gravel and set the neighbour sedges a-swinging,
he leaned forward and fixed the eager girl with a glare from under the
penthouse of his eyebrows. Open-mouthed and intent, Barbara waited for
his pronouncement.
"Child!" said he, waving a large, but white and fine forefinger for
emphasis, "Don't you let that amiable and disreputable old vagabond,
Debby Blue, or that pestilent rebel, Doctor John Pigeon, stuff your
little head with notions. It's _your_ place to stand by the _Crown_,
right or wrong. Remember your blood. You know right well which side
your father would have stood upon! Eh, what?"
The disputatious confidence died out of Barbara's face. For a moment
her head drooped, for she knew in her heart how thoroughly that
worshipped father would have identified himself with the king's party
as soon as occasion arose. Then she looked up, and a mocking light
danced in her gray eyes, while her mouth drew itself into lines of
solemnity.
"I promise," she exclaimed, leaning forward and laying a thin little
gipsy hand on Doctor Jim's knee, as if registering a vow, "that I won't
harm your dear King George!"
"Baggage!" shouted Doctor Jim, snatching her from her seat and stalking
up the beach with her.
Arriving at the Ladd place from the rear, by way of the pasture and the
barnyard, they found Doctor John awaiting them. He was leaning over
the little wicket gate at the back of the garden, eating a handful of
plump gooseberries. With affected sternness he eyed their approach,
not uttering a word till Barbara violently pushed the gate open and
rushed at him. Then, straightening himself to his full height,--he had
a half-head to the good of even the towering Doctor Jim,--he extended
his hand to her, and said, civilly:
"Do have a gooseberry!"
At this Barbara shrieked with laughter. Doctor John always seemed to
her the very funniest thing in the world, and his humour, in season and
out of season, quite irresistible. At the same time she pounded him
impatiently with her fists, and tried to pull him down to her.
"I don't want a gooseberry," she cried. "I want you to kiss me. I
haven't seen you for more than a week, and you go and act just as if I
had seen you every day!"
Doctor John stooped, but held her at arm's length, and gazed at her
with preternatural gravity.
"Tell me one thing," he said.
"What?" whispered Barbara, impressed.
"Have you been taking any of Jim Pigeon's physic since I saw you?"
"No!" shrieked Barbara, with another wild peal of laughter. "Doctor
Jim's a Tory. He might poison me!"
"Then you shall have one kiss--no, two!" said Doctor John, picking her
up.
"Ten--twenty--a hundred!" insisted the child, hugging him violently.
"There! there! Enough is as good as a feast!" interrupted Doctor John,
presently, untwining her arms and setting her down. Then, Doctor Jim
holding one of her hands and Doctor John the other, she skipped gaily
up the path toward the house, like a wisp of light dancing between
their giant bulks.
At this moment the figure of Mistress Mehitable appeared on the porch;
and Barbara felt suddenly abashed. A realisation of all that had
occurred, all she had done, all she had suffered, rushed over her. Her
little fingers shut like steel upon the great, comforting hands that
held them, and the colour for a moment faded out of her cheeks. Doctor
John and Doctor Jim both felt the pang of emotion that darted through
her. She felt, rather than saw, that their big faces leaned above her
tenderly. But she did not want them to speak. She was afraid they
might not say the right thing. She felt that _she_ must say something
at once, to divert their attention from her plight. She looked around
desperately and caught sight, in the barnyard behind her, of the hired
man milking the vicious red 'mooley' cow that would not let Abby milk
her.
"Why!" she exclaimed, with a vast show of interest and surprise,
"there's Amos milking Mooley!"
On the instant she recognised the bald irrelevancy of the remark, and
wished she had not spoken. But Doctor John turned his head, eyed Amos
with critical consideration, and said:
"Goodness gracious! why, so it is! Now, do you know, _I_ should have
expected to see the parson, or Squire Gillig, milking Mooley. Dear me,
dear me!"
At this, though the deeper half of her heart was sick with apprehensive
emotion, the other half was irresistibly titillated, and she laughed
hysterically; while Doctor Jim emitted a vast, appreciative guffaw.
Before anything more could be said, the voice of Mistress Mehitable
came from the porch, kindly sweet, familiar, and cadenced as if no
cataclysms whatever had lately shaken the world.
"Supper is waiting," she said, and smiled upon them gently as they
approached.
"We come, fair mistress!" responded Doctor Jim, modulating his voice to
a deferential softness.
"We come--and here we are," broke out Doctor John, snatching up
Barbara, dashing forward, and thrusting her into her aunt's not
unwilling arms.
It was a wise device to surmount the difficulty of the meeting.
"I am truly most glad to see you, my dear child," said Mistress
Mehitable, earnestly, pressing Barbara to her heart and kissing her on
the forehead. Barbara looked up, searched her aunt's face piercingly
for a second, saw that the gentle blue eyes were something red and
swollen with weeping, and impulsively lifted her lips to be kissed.
"I am sorry I grieved you, Aunt Hitty," she whispered, "I'll try hard
not to."
Mistress Mehitable kissed her again, almost impetuously, gave her a
squeeze of understanding, and with her arm over the child's shoulder
led the way in to supper.