At length, however, the boy noticed with a tinge of surprise that the
boat was steering as if to intercept his course. He was about to pass
greeting to its occupants when something in the face of the big man
sitting in the stern arrested his words. At the same moment the sound
of the oars caught Barbara's attention, and she turned her head.
"Oh!" she cried, shrilly. "Doctor Jim!--and Doctor John!" she added,
as one of the two rowers looked around and grinned at her in humourous
triumph. Then, her visions of life at Stratford with Uncle Bob falling
to ruin about her, she wept aloud in her disappointment.
Robert understood, and quick as thought swerved in his course, making a
dart for the swifter water of mid-channel. His heart swelled with
exultation.
"They can't catch us!" he declared to Barbara.
"Stop! you young rascal!" thundered the mighty voice of Doctor Jim. "I
know you, Bobby Gault. Don't I know your father's son? Stop this
instant!"
"Quit this tomfoolery, Bobby!" roared Doctor John, albeit a little
breathless from his labour. Barbara lifted her face and stared through
her tears. But the boy paid no heed, paddling mightily, and the
distance between boat and canoe was surely widening.
But Doctor Jim knew Barbara.
"Very well!" he said, grimly, in a loud voice. "I'm sorry to do bodily
hurt to the son of my old friend Richard, but it can't be helped."
He drew a long-barrelled pistol from under the flap of his green coat.
"I'll have to wing you, my boy!" he said, taking careful aim, while one
eyelid quivered in the direction of Doctor John.
The boy's face paled a little, but his jaw set firmly, and he kept
right on.
"Stop! stop! stop!" screamed Barbara, but with no result. She half
arose in the canoe, glancing with horror from the boy's resolute face
to the muzzle of the pistol.
"If you don't stop, Robert, I will throw myself overboard this minute!"
she vowed.
The terror in her face convinced him. He sullenly drew in his paddle,
laid it down in the canoe, folded his arms, and looked off over the
western hills, as if scornful of all that might take place.
In a few seconds the boat came up alongside of the drifting canoe, the
oars were drawn in, and strong hands laid hold upon the gunwale. There
were some awful moments of silence, broken only by Barbara's sobbing
and the splashing of waves on the boat and the canoe. The owner of the
boat, a gaunt farmer from Westings Landing, a few miles down the river,
who had not been initiated into the mystery, looked on in discreet
astonishment. This was indeed a strange situation in which to see the
grandson of Lady Gault. At last Barbara, to whom suspense was hideous,
broke out.
"Oh, do say something!" she wailed. Indeed, neither Doctor John nor
Doctor Jim knew just what to say. They were embarrassed. But the
child was right. Somebody had to say something. By interchange of
quick glances the lot fell to Doctor John.
"Well, this is pretty gallivanting, running away with a young
man,--carrying him off in your aunt's canoe!" said Doctor John.
Barbara's eyes opened very wide.
"I never!" she cried, indignantly.
"As for you, Bobby Gault," interposed Doctor Jim, severely, and in a
tone that made Robert feel himself hatefully young, "I cannot
comprehend how _you_ should come to be mixed up in this affair. I know
well what my friend, Richard Gault, your lamented father, with his nice
notions of honour, would have thought of such an escapade." (Robert's
father and mother had died within a few days of each other, by an
epidemic of typhus, when the boy was only five years old.) "But I
shall lay the matter before your good grandmother, and your uncle, who
will doubtless deal with you as you deserve."
Robert shut his lips tight and eyed the speaker proudly; but Barbara
made reply in her vehement way.
"It is not Robert's fault at all, I tell you, Doctor Jim!" she cried,
forgetting that she had said nothing whatever on the subject. "I just
met him, an hour or two ago, on an old raft; and he knew who I was; and
because he was getting his feet wet on the raft, I invited him to get
into the canoe; and I made him promise to paddle me just wherever I
wanted to go. So there! And it is not his fault one bit! And you may
do what you like to me, but I won't have him punished when he has not
done anything at all!"
Doctor John tried to look quite grave; and Doctor Jim, who was really
annoyed, succeeded.
"Oh, ho! young man!" he remarked, sarcastically, "it appears that you
have a champion. Now, what have you to say for yourself?"
"Mistress Barbara has neglected to add," said he, with all the dignity
that he could assume, "that I insisted upon her narrating to me all the
unhappy circumstances of her life in Second Westings. The story
commanded my fullest sympathy, and I had just given her my word that I
would aid her in escaping to her uncle, Mr. Glenowen, where she would
be happy, when you came and violently interfered with her purpose. I
ask you, sir, to consider. Are you not ashamed to be instrumental in
restoring a young lady to conditions where she has been made to suffer
so cruelly?"
In spite of his indignation, Robert could not help feeling proud of
this effort. In his own ears it sounded imposing, unanswerable, and
altogether grown up. Barbara thought it was a miracle of eloquence,
and cast him a grateful look. But Doctor John could not conceal his
delight in the stilted periods. He burst into a huge guffaw, at which
Barbara's eyes snapped and Robert's dark skin reddened angrily. But
Doctor Jim exclaimed, hotly:
"Hoity-toity! How big we do feel! To think how often I dandled you on
my knee when you were a mewling baby. If I had but known enough to
spank you once in awhile, you might not have grown up to be such a
priggish young coxcomb. Richard's son! Who would have thought it?
Eh, what?"
Meanwhile the boat and canoe were drifting rapidly down-stream. Doctor
John looked at the sun, now touching the horizon.
"Don't you think, Master Gault," said he, drily, "that unless you
propose to honour us with your company to Second Westings, we had
better set you ashore hereabouts, that you may stretch your legs in the
direction of Gault House?"
"Thank you!" said Robert, stiffly, his heart bursting with humiliation
and the longing to strangle his huge, supercilious antagonist. But
Barbara interrupted.
"I'm not going back to Second Westings!" she declared obstinately,
trying hard to set her full red lips together in the resolute way that
Robert's had. "I will never go back to live with Aunt Hitty. I'll
drown myself first. I'm going to Uncle Bob, at Stratford."
The threat, once so effective, seemed now to have lost its potency. No
one appeared impressed but Robert,--and perhaps the stranger-man who
owned the boat.
"My dear child," said Doctor John, eying her indulgently, "among the
more or less serious obstacles to your plan is one of which I believe
that even you will see the magnitude. Mr. Glenowen is no longer at
Stratford."
"Uncle Bob not at Stratford?" wailed Barbara, overwhelmed, subjugated
in an instant. Robert started aghast.
Doctor John paused dramatically, while the full effect of the news
worked upon his victims in the canoe. Then he said, coolly:
"Mr. Glenowen is just now at Hartford, or has lately left that town.
Mistress Ladd had a letter from him to-day, saying he expected to
arrive at Second Westings not later than the end of next week, I think,
moreover, that I saw a packet on the mantel-shelf addressed to Mistress
Barbara Ladd!"
With one bound Barbara's heart passed from despair to ecstasy.
Everything else was forgotten. She was as eager now to get back to
Second Westings as she had been to escape from it. All she knew or
cared for was that Uncle Bob would be there. He would make everything
right. Her face was all radiance, as it turned to Doctor John, then to
Doctor Jim, then to Robert,--who eyed her gloomily, feeling himself now
cast out into the cold. But in her joy Barbara did not forget him
after all.
"Just think, Robert," she cried, "Uncle Bob so near, and we would have
missed him if Doctor John and Doctor Jim, the dears, had not come and
caught us. They are always _angels_ to me, you know. Now we will put
you ashore right here. And you must be sure to come over to Second
Westings and see me,--won't you?--while Uncle Bob is there. Come next
week."
"I thank you for the gracious invitation," answered the boy, bowing a
little stiffly. "But I think I had better wait for Mr. Glenowen's
permission, as these gentlemen are not likely to present me to him in a
very favourable light."
"Don't be silly and disagreeable, Robert," said Barbara, impatiently.
"Uncle Bob will think of you just as I do. We always agree about
people. Now you must hurry!"
"I think, however," persisted Robert, "I ought to wait for Mr.
Glenowen's invitation."
"Right, my lad!" exclaimed Doctor Jim, much mollified by this attitude.
"That's my old friend Richard's son speaking now. And I doubt not that
our little mistress here will see to it that the invitation is
forthcoming in good season,--eh, what?"
There was a doubtful expression on Barbara's face, over the lack of
instantaneous obedience to her will on the part of her champion; but
Robert, encouraged by Doctor Jim's commendation, now made a bold
proposal.
"If you would be so kind, sir," he suggested, diffidently, "I should
like to go down with you to the Landing, where I can lodge very well
for the night at the house of an old servant of my grandmother's. It
will be a long and difficult tramp for me up the shore now, in the
dark, and with no road through the woods. By going with you to the
Landing I might be of some service, to paddle the canoe. She will be
an awkward craft to tow; and Mistress Barbara is very tired, I
perceive."
"Sly young dog!" growled Doctor John. "But, seeing that he is
Richard's son, we'll have to take him along with us as far as the
Landing, eh, Jim?"
"Let him work his passage, then!" roared Doctor Jim. "Let him paddle
the canoe, and Barbara, and her kittens, and all her contraptions,--and
we'll see about not being too hard on him when we come to tell his
grandmother!"
This arrangement was highly satisfactory to all concerned. The gloom
fell from Robert's face, and his mouth grew boyish and happy as he
paddled on in musing silence. He kept the canoe alongside of the boat,
just out of reach of the oars, so that Barbara could talk conveniently
with Doctor John and Doctor Jim, which she did in the most usual manner
in the world, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. But
presently, upon a lull in the conversation came the voice of Robert,
who had been thinking about Barbara's life at Second Westings.
"Is not Mistress Ladd a very harsh, tyrannical sort of woman?" he
inquired, solicitously.
There was a huge roar from Doctor Jim, which made even Barbara jump,
inured though she was to these explosions.
"I'd have you remember, young sir, that you are speaking of the
gentlest, sweetest, truest, most gracious lady that ever lived, for
whose little shoes you are not worthy to sweep the ground!"
Robert stared in confusion, too astonished to be at once ready with an
apology. Before he could gather his wits, Doctor John spoke up, more
gently. He was no less loyal a champion to Mistress Mehitable than was
Doctor Jim, but with him his humour was ever at hand to assuage his
wrath. Subduing his great tones to a quizzical and confidential
half-whisper, that feigned itself not meant for Barbara's ears, he
said, amiably:
"My son, when you come to know well this little firebrand of ours, whom
we have just plucked from a watery burning, this sower of dissension in
our good village of Second Westings, I doubt not that you will spare a
moiety of your sympathies for that very noble lady, Mistress Ladd. In
truth, for all her tears and anxiety on this mad little maid's account,
I have a misgiving that we are doing the sweet lady no great kindness
in taking Mistress Barbara back to her. A pretty gallant you are, to
undertake to carry a lady off, and then make a mess of it, and leave
her embarrassed friends to straighten out the snarl!"
Under this daunting blend of rebuke and raillery, Robert fell into a
deeper confusion. He floundered through a few awkward phrases of
deprecation and apology, but Barbara cut in upon his struggles without
mercy. The gibes of Doctor John troubled her not a whit, but one thing
which he had said captured her interest.
"_Did_ Aunt Hitty _really_ cry when she found I had gone away? Did she
really feel so badly about it? I thought she would be rather glad!"
"She was in great grief, bitter grief, Barbara. Do you think no one
has feelings but yourself?" answered Doctor Jim, with some severity.
This pertinent question Barbara ignored. She turned to Robert.
"You must understand, Robert," she explained with care, "that Aunt
Hitty is not really cruel to me,--at least she never intends to be.
But she and I do not understand each other, and so we can't get on!"
"You will simply have to learn some of the rudiments of obedience and
self-control, Barbara," said Doctor Jim. Never had he spoken to her so
severely before, and she was amazed. But she saw that this time she
had gone very near to forfeiting the sympathy of her most faithful
allies. Perhaps, after all, she _was_ in the wrong to run away. The
suspicion only made her the more obstinate.
"I don't think one ought to obey any one, except one's father and
mother," she proclaimed rebelliously. "One's father and mother, if
they are good, and wise, and kind," she added, still further enlarging
her freedom.
"And the king!" added Robert, sententiously. He flung out the word as
a shibboleth.
There was a moment of silence. Barbara darted upon him a glance of
petulant disappointment. Doctor John laughed hugely. But as for
Doctor Jim, his face underwent a swift change, as he scanned the boy
with new interest.
"Well said, well said; spoken as Richard's boy should speak, as a Gault
should ever speak!" he thundered, in high approval. "I am sorry if I
seemed abrupt a moment ago, Robert. Pardon my quick temper. I see
your heart is in the right place, and you have not let them stuff your
head with pestilent and plebeian heresies. Yes, yes, you must
certainly come to Second Westings. I shall be honoured if my old
friend's son will be my guest!"
From that moment dated a friendship between Robert and Doctor Jim which
no after vicissitude was ever able to disturb.
But Barbara was of another mind.
"King George is just a stupid old tyrant, and I hate him!" she
exclaimed. "I'm sorry, Robert, you have not quite so much sense as I
thought you had. I'm really disappointed in you. But there are _some_
nice Tories! You know even dear Doctor Jim is a Tory, though we can't
see why, and he's just as lovely as if he were on the right side. So
you may come to Second Westings,--though you must promise not to argue
with me. But I know, Robert, I sha'n't like you now so well as I
thought I was going to!"
"Let the young people fight it out, eh, Jim?" said Doctor John, greatly
amused. "Let them fight it out between them!" Then, suddenly grave,
he added, "God grant the differences now distracting our colonies grow
not beyond the point of children's quarrels!"
Doctor Jim shook his head sorrowfully.
"There's trouble ahead, John. I feel it coming. This is a
stiff-necked and disloyal people, and I have a foreboding. There's a
sword in the air, John!"
"It's surely a stiff-necked king, Jim," muttered Doctor John.
"The sword of a Gault will ever leap from its scabbard to serve the
king!" said Robert, loftily, his grave eyes aglow with exaltation.
As he made this proclamation of his faith, devoting himself to a cause
of which she disapproved, and quite ignoring her feelings in the
matter, Barbara felt a sudden pang of loneliness. She seemed
forgotten, or, at least, grown secondary and trivial.
"Do let us hurry home to Uncle Bob!" she pleaded, her voice pathetic,
her eyes tired and dissatisfied.
Then silence, with the twilight, descended upon the voyaging company;
and in a little while, coming noiselessly to the landing-place, they
stepped ashore into the dewy, sweet-smelling weeds and the evening
peace.