It was April and one of those beautiful early spring days with which New
England is sometimes favored. The first buds were showing on the trees,
the first patches of new green were sprinkling the sheltered slopes of
the little hills, and under the dead leaves by the edges of the woods
boys had been rummaging for the first mayflowers.
It was supper time at the Fair Harbor and the "guests"--quoting Mrs.
Susannah Brackett--or the "inmates"--quoting Mr. Judah Cahoon--were
seated about the table. There were some notable vacancies in the roster.
At the head, where Mrs. Cordelia Berry had so graciously and for so long
presided, there was now an empty chair. That chair would soon be filled,
however; the new matron of the Harbor was at that moment in the office
discussing business matters with Mr. Bradley, the new "outside manager."
She had told the others not to wait for her; she would come to supper as
soon as she could. So Mrs. Brackett, who had moved up to the seat once
glorified by the dignity of Miss Elvira Snowden, was serving the cold
corned beef; while opposite her, in the chair where Elizabeth Berry used
to sit, Mrs. Aurora Chase was ladling forth the preserved pears. And, in
the absence of the matron, it was of course natural that conversation
should turn to subjects which could not be discussed as freely or
pointedly in her presence.
Miss Desire Peasley began the discussion. She looked at the ancient
clock on the mantel. The time was a quarter to six.
"H'm," sniffed Miss Peasley, with a one-sided smile. "I suppose likely
the great event's took place long afore this. They're married and off on
their honeymoon by now.... If you can call a cruise on board a ship
bound to an outlandish place like Singapore a honeymoon. I took one
voyage to Bombay with my brother, and 'twan't the honeymoon trip I'd
pick out. _Such_ a place! And such folks! The clothes those poor
heathens wore--or didn't wear! Shameful! Don't talk!"
The order not to talk was plainly not considered binding, for every one
immediately began to talk.
"I should like to have seen the weddin'," proclaimed Mrs. Hattis Thomas,
with a giggle. "Must have looked more like an adoptin' ceremony than a
marryin'. I've always been thankful for one thing, I married a man
somewheres nigh my own age, anyhow."
"Wonder how Cordelia likes bein' left alone?" observed Mrs. Constance
Cahoon. "She's been used to havin' a daughter to wait on her hand and
foot. Now she'll have to wait on herself for a spell. But I presume
likely she won't mind that. Livin' up to Boston, with the interest of
twenty-five thousand dollars to live on, will suit her down to the
ground. She'll be airy enough now. Won't speak to common folks, I
suppose. Well, she won't have to put herself out to speak to _me_. _I_
shan't go a-visitin' her, even if she begs me to."
There was no immediate symptom of Mrs. Berry's begging for visitors, at
least none present had so far received an invitation. But all nodded,
indicating that they, too, would scorn the plea when it came.
"That poor man!" sighed Mrs. Brackett, pityingly. "How those two, mother
and daughter, did pull the wool over his eyes. I suppose he thinks we
all believe he wouldn't take a cent of Elizabeth's money. Humph! Good
reason why Jack wouldn't eat his supper--he didn't have a chance. Ha,
ha! I cal'late he'd taken it if he could have got it. But his wife knew
a trick worth two of that. She'll keep him afloat and hard at work
earnin' more for her to spend. Well, I hope his poor lame legs won't
give out on him. If he has to give up goin' to sea _again_, I pity him,
that's all I've got to say."
Mrs. Chase, her jet black locks a trifle askew as usual, was listening,
the hand holding the preserve spoon cupped behind her ear and the spoon
itself sticking out like a Fiji Islander's head ornament. As usual she
had heard next to nothing.
"That's what _I_ say!" she declared. "Why, Mr. Bradley, or whoever was
responsible, let Sears Kendrick put a woman with six children in as
matron of this place, I can't understand. Of course it's plain enough
why Cap'n Sears wanted her to have the job. Joel Macomber's wages ain't
more than twelve dollars a week and the salary here'll give 'em all the
luxuries and doodads they want. Fust thing you know that Sary-Mary of
hers'll be goin' to the Middleboro Academy to school. I wouldn't put it
past her.... Hey? What did you say, Susanna?"
Mrs. Brackett had not said anything. She and some of the others were
glancing uneasily in the direction of the hall door. All agreed that the
appointment of Sarah Macomber as matron of the Fair Harbor was an
outrage, but no one cared to have Mrs. Macomber know of that agreement.
It was an experiment, that appointment, and Sarah herself was by no
means confident of its success, although she had at last agreed to give
it three months' trial. Half of that time was over and so far all was
well. Bradley expressed huge satisfaction. Mrs. Macomber came to the
Harbor early each morning and went home again after supper. Sarah-Mary
and a hired girl, wages three dollars a week, were doing the Macomber
housework.
"Hey?" shouted Aurora once more. "What did you say, Susanna?"
Mrs. Brackett, after another uneasy glance at the hall door, nodded and
smiled. Mrs. Cahoon spoke quickly, in order to change the subject.
"What do you suppose I heard to-day?" she answered. "I met Josiah Ellis
down to 'Liphalet's store and he told me he see Mr. Phillips yesterday.
Josiah drove one of the livery hoss-'n'-teams over to Denboro--had a
Boston notion drummer to cart over there, he did--and who should come
drivin' along but Mr. Phillips. Josiah said he was dressed just as
elegant as ever was, and the hoss-'n'-team he was drivin' was styled-up
to match. Josiah hailed him and Mr. Phillips stopped and talked for a
few minutes. Nice as always, not a bit of airs. No, Elviry wan't with
him. Mr. Phillips said she was to home gettin' him ready to go away for
a little vacation. Seems he's cal'latin' to go to New York for a
fortni't. Mr. Phillips told Josiah that Elviry was kind of tired out,
they'd done so much entertainin' this winter, and he was goin' away so's
she could have a little rest. Ain't that just like him?
Self-sacrificin'--my sakes! Elviry's a lucky woman, that's all I've got
to say. I don't say so much about _his_ luck; but when she got him she
done well."
There was a general buzz of agreement about the table. Then from the
kitchen, where she had gone to get a fresh supply of cream-of-tartar
biscuit, came little Mrs. Tidditt. She put the plate of biscuits on the
table and sat down.
"What's that, Constance?" she demanded.
Mrs. Cahoon repeated the news of the Phillips family. Aurora put in a
word.
"There's one thing I've always been sorry for," she said. "Of course I
wouldn't take anything away from Elviry, she and I have always been good
friends. But she's got enough as 'tis, and I _do_ wish--I do wish that
Sears Kendrick had stayed away from this place until we'd had a chance
to buy them lovely lawn statues. We'll never have another chance like
that again."
Esther Tidditt smiled. "Yes, you will, Aurora," she snapped. "Yes, you
will. Give him time and about two or three more New York trips, and
those images will be up at auction again. Thirty thousand don't last
some folks long, and Elviry and her Eg will be needin' money to pay
grocery bills. You can't eat an iron lion. Just wait, Aurora. We may
have that menagerie in the yard here yet. Possess your soul in
patience."
There was another buzz about the table, this time of scornful
disapproval. Mrs. Chase leaned forward.
"What's she sayin', Susanna?" she demanded, querulously. "Susanna
Brackett, why don't you or the rest tell me what she's sayin'?"
* * * * *
At that moment the ship _Gold Finder_, of Boston, Winthrop and
Hunniwell, owners, Sears Kendrick, master, was sailing out over the
waters of Massachusetts Bay. Astern, a diamond point against the
darkening sky, Minot's Light shone. The vessel was heeling slightly in
the crisp evening wind, her full, rounded sails rustling overhead, her
cordage creaking, foam at her forefoot and her wake stretching backward
toward the land she was leaving. Her skipper stood aft by the binnacle,
feeling, with a joy quite indescribable, the lift of the deck beneath
him and the rush of the breeze across his face.
From the open door of the galley lamplight streamed. Within Judah Cahoon
sang as he worked over the stove. Judah had had a glorious afternoon.
His chanteys had cast off the hawsers, had walked away with the ropes,
had hoisted the sails, had bade the tug good-by. Now his voice was a
thought frayed, but he sang on.
Elizabeth--now Elizabeth Berry no more forever--came up the companion
ladder. She joined her husband by the after rail. The sea air was chill
and she was wearing one of the captain's pea jackets, the collar turned
up; a feathery strand of her brown hair blew out to leeward. She stood
beside him. The man at the wheel was looking down into the binnacle and
Sears took her hand.
"Well?" he said, after a moment.
She looked up at him. "Well?" she said.
Neither spoke immediately. Then Kendrick breathed a sigh, a sigh
expressive of many things.
She understood. As always she knew what he was thinking.
"Yes," she said, "it is glorious. Glorious for me; but for you,
Sears----"
"Yes. It's pretty fine. I really never expected to make sail out of
Boston harbor again. And if anybody had told me that I was to--" with
another look at the helmsman, and lowering his voice--"to leave port
this way--with you----"
He laughed aloud.
She laughed, too. "And just think," she said; "no more little worries or
pettinesses, no more whispers, or faultfinding, or----"
"Or Fair Harbors. You're right, my girl. We're off, clean away from it
all, bound out."
From the galley Judah's voice came, beginning the second verse of his
song,
"'Aloft! Aloft!' our jolly bos'n cries.
Blow high! blow low! and so sailed we.
'Look ahead, look astern, look a-weather and a-lee,
Look along down the coast of the High Bar-ba-ree.'
"'There's none upon the starn, there's none upon the lee.'
Blow high! blow low! and so sailed we.
'There's a lofty ship to wind'ard a-sailin' fast and free,
Sailin' down along the coast of the High Bar-ba-ree.'"
THE END
* * * * * *
NOVELS FOR CHEERFUL ENTERTAINMENT
GALUSHA THE MAGNIFICENT
By Joseph C. Lincoln
Author of "Shavings," "The Portygee," etc.
The whole family will laugh over this deliriously humorous novel, that
pictures the sunny side of small-town life, and contains love-making, a
dash of mystery, an epidemic of spook-chasing--and laughable, lovable
Galusha.
THESE YOUNG REBELS
By Frances R. Sterrett
Author of "Nancy Goes to Town," "Up the Road with Sally," etc.
A sprightly novel that hits off to perfection the present antagonism
between the rebellious younger generation and their disapproving elders.
PLAY THE GAME
By Ruth Comfort Mitchell
A happy story about American young people. The appealing qualities of a
brave young girl stand out in the strife between two young fellows, the
one by fair the other by foul means, to win her.
IN BLESSED CYRUS
By Laura E. Richards
Author of "A Daughter of Jehu," etc.
The quaint, quiet village of Cyrus, with its whimsical villagers, is
abruptly turned topsy-turvy by the arrival in its midst of an actress,
distractingly feminine, Lila Laughter; and, at the same time, an
epidemic of small-pox.
HELEN OF THE OLD HOUSE
By Harold Bell Wright
Wright's greatest novel, that presents the life of industry to-day, the
laughter, the tears, the strivings of those who live about the smoky
chimneys of an American industrial town.
New York
D. APPLETON & COMPANY
London
* * * * * *
AMONG THE NEWEST NOVELS
THE HOUSE OF MOHUN
By GEORGE GIBBS, Author of "Youth Triumphant," etc.
A distinguished novel depicting present day society and its most
striking feature, the "flapper." A story of splendid dramatic qualities.
THE COVERED WAGON
By EMERSON HOUGH, Author of "The Magnificent Adventure," "The Story of
the Cowboy," etc.
A novel of the first water, clear and clean, is this thrilling story of
the pioneers, the men and women who laid the foundation of the great
west.
HOMESTEAD RANCH
By ELIZABETH G. YOUNG
The _New York Times_ says that "Homestead Ranch" is one of the season's
"two best real wild and woolly western yarns." The _Boston Herald_ says,
"So delightful that we recommend it as one of the best western stories
of the year."
SACRIFICE
By STEPHEN FRENCH WHITMAN, Author of "Predestined," etc.
How a woman, spoiled child of New York society, faced the dangers of the
African jungle trail. "One feels ever the white heat of emotional
conflict."--_Philadelphia Public Ledger._
DOUBLE-CROSSED
By W. DOUGLAS NEWTON, Author of "Low Ceilings," etc.
"An excellently written and handled tale of adventure and thrills in the
dark spruce valleys of Canada."--_New York Times._
JANE JOURNEYS ON
By RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL, Author of "Play the Game," etc.
The cheerful story of a delightful heroine's adventures from Vermont to
Mexico.
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
New York London