On a cheery June day Mrs. Penelope Carroll and her niece Debby Wilder,
were whizzing along on their way to a certain gay watering-place, both
in the best of humors with each other and all the world beside. Aunt
Pen was concocting sundry mild romances, and laying harmless plots for
the pursuance of her favorite pastime, match-making; for she had
invited her pretty relative to join her summer jaunt, ostensibly that
the girl might see a little of fashionable life, but the good lady
secretly proposed to herself to take her to the beach and get her a
rich husband, very much as she would have proposed to take her to
Broadway and get her a new bonnet: for both articles she considered
necessary, but somewhat difficult for a poor girl to obtain.
Debby was slowly getting her poise, after the excitement of a first
visit to New York; for ten days of bustle had introduced the young
philosopher to a new existence, and the working-day world seemed to
have vanished when she made her last pat of butter in the dairy at
home. For an hour she sat thinking over the good-fortune which had
befallen her, and the comforts of this life which she had suddenly
acquired. Debby was a true girl, with all a girl's love of ease and
pleasure; it must not be set down against her that she surveyed her
pretty travelling-suit with much complacency, rejoicing inwardly that
she could use her hands without exposing fractured gloves, that her
bonnet was of the newest mode, needing no veil to hide a faded ribbon
or a last year's shape, that her dress swept the ground with
fashionable untidiness, and her boots were guiltless of a patch,--that
she was the possessor of a mine of wealth in two of the eight trunks
belonging to her aunt, that she was travelling like any lady of the
land with man- and maid-servant at her command, and that she was
leaving work and care behind her for a month or two of novelty and rest.
When these agreeable facts were fully realized, and Aunt Pen had fallen
asleep behind her veil, Debby took out a book, and indulged in her
favorite luxury, soon forgetting past, present, and future in the
inimitable history of Martin Chuzzlewit. The sun blazed, the cars
rattled, children cried, ladies nodded, gentlemen longed for the solace
of prohibited cigars, and newspapers were converted into sun-shades,
nightcaps, and fans; but Debby read on, unconscious of all about her,
even of the pair of eves that watched her from the Opposite corner of
the car. A Gentleman with a frank, strong-featured face sat therein,
and amused himself by scanning with thoughtful gaze the countenances of
his fellow-travellers. Stout Aunt Pen, dignified even in her sleep,
was a "model of deportment" to the rising generation; but the student
of human nature found a more attractive subject in her companion, the
girl with an apple-blossom face and merry brown eyes, who sat smiling
into her book, never heeding that her bonnet was awry, and the wind
taking unwarrantable liberties with her ribbons and her hair.
Innocent Debby turned her pages, unaware that her fate sat opposite in
the likeness of a serious, black-bearded gentleman, who watched the
smiles rippling from her lips to her eyes with an interest that
deepened as the minutes passed. If his paper had been full of anything
but "Bronchial Troches" and "Spalding's Prepared Glue," he would have
found more profitable employment; but it wasn't, and with the usual
readiness of idle souls he fell into evil ways, and permitted
curiosity, that feminine sin, to enter in and take possession of his
manly mind. A great desire seized him to discover what book his pretty
neighbor; but a cover hid the name, and he was too distant to catch it
on the fluttering leaves. Presently a stout Emerald-Islander, with her
wardrobe oozing out of sundry paper parcels, vacated the seat behind
the two ladies; and it was soon quietly occupied by the individual for
whom Satan was finding such indecorous employment. Peeping round the
little gray bonnet, past a brown braid and a fresh cheek, the young
man's eye fell upon the words the girl was reading, and forgot to look
away again. Books were the desire of his life; but an honorable
purpose and an indomitable will kept him steady at his ledgers till he
could feel that he had earned the right to read. Like wine to many
another was an open page to his; he read a line, and, longing for more,
took a hasty sip from his neighbor's cup, forgetting that it was a
stranger's also.
Down the page went the two pairs of eyes, and the merriment from
Debby's seemed to light up the sombre ones behind her with a sudden
shine that softened the whole face and made it very winning. No wonder
they twinkled, for Elijah Pogram spoke, and "Mrs. Hominy, the mother of
the modern Gracchi, in the classical blue cap and the red cotton
pocket-handkerchief, came down the room in a procession of one." A low
laugh startled Debby, though it was smothered like the babes in the
Tower; and, turning, she beheld the trespasser scarlet with confusion,
and sobered with a tardy sense of his transgression. Debby was not a
starched young lady of the "prune and prism" school, but a frank,
free-hearted little body, quick to read the sincerity of others, and to
take looks and words at their real value. Dickens was her idol; and
for his sake she could have forgiven a greater offence than this.
The stranger's contrite countenance and respectful apology won her
good-will at once; and with a finer courtesy than any Aunt Pen would
have taught, she smilingly bowed her pardon, and, taking another book
from her basket, opened it, saying, pleasantly,--
"Here is the first volume if you like it, Sir. I can recommend it as
an invaluable consolation for the discomforts of a summer day's
journey, and it is heartily at your service."
As much surprised as gratified, the gentleman accepted the book, and
retired behind it with the sudden discovery that wrongdoing has its
compensation in the pleasurable sensation of being forgiven. Stolen
delights are well known to be specially saccharine: and much as this
pardoned sinner loved books, it seemed to him that the interest of the
story flagged, and that the enjoyment of reading was much enhanced by
the proximity of a gray bonnet and a girlish profile. But Dickens soon
proved more powerful than Debby, and she was forgotten, till, pausing
to turn a leaf, the young man met her shy glance, as she asked, with
the pleased expression of a child who has shared an apple with a
playmate,--
"Is it good?"
"Oh, very!"--and the man looked as honestly grateful for the book as
the boy would have done for the apple.
Only five words in the conversation, but Aunt Pen woke, as if the
watchful spirit of propriety had roused her to pluck her charge from
the precipice on which she stood.
"Dora, I'm astonished at you! Speaking to strangers in that free manner
is a most unladylike thing. How came you to forget what I have told
you over and over again about a proper reserve?" The energetic whisper
reached the gentleman's ear, and he expected to be annihilated with a
look when his offence was revealed; but he was spared that ordeal, for
the young voice answered, softly,--
"Don't faint, Aunt Pen: I only did as I'd be done by; for I had two
books, and the poor man looked so hungry for something to read that I
couldn't resist sharing my 'goodies.' He will see that I'm a
countrified little thing in spite of my fine feathers, and won't be
shocked at my want of rigidity and frigidity; so don't look dismal, and
I'll be prim and proper all the rest of the way,--if I don't forget it."
"I wonder who he is; may belong to some of our first families, and in
that case it might be worth while to exert ourselves, you know. Did you
learn his name, Dora?" whispered the elder lady.
Debby shook her head, and murmured, "Hush!"--but Aunt Pen had heard of
matches being made in cars as well as in heaven; and as an experienced
general, it became her to reconnoitre, when one of the enemy approached
her camp. Slightly altering her position, she darted an
all-comprehensive glance at the invader, who seemed entirely absorbed,
for not an eyelash stirred during the scrutiny. It lasted but an
instant, yet in that instant he was weighed and found wanting; for that
experienced eye detected that his cravat was two inches wider than
fashion ordained, that his coat was not of the latest style, that his
gloves were mended, and his handkerchief neither cambric nor silk.
That was enough, and sentence was passed forthwith,--"Some respectable
clerk, good-looking, but poor, and not at all the thing for Dora"; and
Aunt Pen turned to adjust a voluminous green veil over her niece's
bonnet, "To shield it from the dust, dear," which process also shielded
the face within from the eye of man.
A curious smile, half mirthful, half melancholy, passed over their
neighbor's lips; but his peace of mind seemed undisturbed, and he
remained buried in his book Till they reached -----, at dusk. As he
returned it, he offered his services in procuring a carriage or
attending to luggage; but Mrs. Carroll, with much dignity of aspect,
informed him that her servants would attend to those matters, and,
bowing gravely, he vanished into the night.
As they rolled away to the hotel, Debby was wild to run down to the
beach whence came the solemn music of the sea, making the twilight
beautiful. But Aunt Pen was too tired to do anything but sup in her
own apartment and go early to bed; and Debby might as soon have
proposed to walk up the great Pyramid as to make her first appearance
without that sage matron to mount guard over her; so she resigned
herself to pie and patience, and fell asleep, wishing it were to-morrow.
At five, a. m., a nightcapped head appeared at one of the myriad
windows of the ----- Hotel, and remained there as if fascinated by the
miracle of sunrise over the sea. Under her simplicity of character and
girlish merriment Debby possessed a devout spirit and a nature full of
the real poetry of life, two gifts that gave her dawning womanhood its
sweetest charm, and made her what she was. As she looked out that
summer dawn upon the royal marriage of the ocean and the sun, all petty
hopes and longings faded out of sight, and her young face grew luminous
with thoughts too deep for words. Her day was happier for that silent
hour, her life richer for the aspirations that uplifted her like
beautiful strong angels, and left a blessing when they went. The smile
of the June sky touched her lips, the morning red seemed to linger on
her cheek, and in her eye arose a light kindled by the shimmer of that
broad sea of gold; for Nature rewarded her young votary well, and gave
her beauty, when she offered love. How long she leaned there Debby did
not know; steps from below roused her from her reverie, and led her
back into the world again. Smiling at herself, She stole to bed, and
lay wrapped in waking dreams as changeful as the shadows, dancing on
her chamber-wall.
The advent of her aunt's maid, Victorine, some two hours later, was the
signal to be "up and doing"; and she meekly resigned herself into the
hands of that functionary, who appeared to regard her in the light of
an animated pin-cushion, as she performed the toilet-ceremonies with an
absorbed aspect, which impressed her subject with a sense of the
solemnity of the occasion.
"Now, Mademoiselle, regard yourself, and pronounce that you are
ravishing," Victorine said at length, folding her hands with a sigh of
satisfaction, as she fell back in an attitude of serene triumph.
Debby obeyed, and inspected herself with great interest and some
astonishment; for there was a sweeping amplitude of array about the
young lady whom she beheld in the much-befrilled gown and embroidered
skirts, which somewhat alarmed her as to the navigation of a vessel
"with such a spread of sail," while a curious sensation of being
somebody else pervaded her from the crown of her head, with its shining
coils of hair, to the soles of the French slippers, whose energies
seemed to have been devoted to the production of marvellous rosettes.
"Yes, I look very nice, thank you; and yet I feel like a doll, helpless
and fine, and fancy I was more of a woman in my fresh gingham, with a
knot of clovers in my hair, than I am now. Aunt Pen was very kind to
get me all these pretty things; but I'm afraid my mother would look
horrified to see me in such a high state of flounce externally and so
little room to breath internally."
"Your mamma would not flatter me, Mademoiselle; but come now to Madame;
she is waiting to behold you, and I have yet her toilet to make "; and,
with a pitying shrug, Victorine followed Debby to her aunt's room.
"Charming! really elegant!" cried that lady, emerging from her towel
with a rubicund visage.
"Drop that braid half an inch lower, and pull the worked end of her
handkerchief out of the right-hand pocket, Vic. There! Now, Dora,
don't run about and get rumpled, but sit quietly down and practice
repose till I am ready."
Debby obeyed, and sat mute, with the air of a child in its Sunday-best
on a week-day, pleased with the novelty, but somewhat oppressed with
the responsibility of such unaccustomed splendor, and utterly unable to
connect any ideas of repose with tight shoes and skirts in a rampant
state of starch.
"Well, you see, I bet on Lady Gay against Cockadoodle, and if you'll
believe me--Hullo! there's Mrs. Carroll, and deuse take me if she
hasn't got a girl with her! Look, Seguin!"--and Joe Leavenworth, a
"man of the world," aged twenty, paused in his account of an exciting
race to make the announcement.
Mr. Seguin, his friend and Mentor, as much his, senior in worldly
wickedness as in years, tore himself from his breakfast long enough to
survey the new-comers, and then returned to it, saying, briefly,--
"The old lady is worth cultivating,--gives good suppers, and thanks you
for eating them. The girl is well got up, but has no style, and blushes
like a milkmaid. Better fight shy of her, Joe."
"Do you think so? Well, now I rather fancy that kind of thing. She's
new, you see, and I get on with that sort of girl the best, for the old
ones are so deused knowing that a fellow has no chance of a--By the
Lord Harry, she's eating bread and milk!"
Young Leavenworth whisked his glass into his eye, and Mr. Seguin put
down his roll to behold the phenomenon. Poor Debby! her first step had
been a wrong one.
All great minds have their weak points. Aunt Pen's was her breakfast,
and the peace of her entire day depended upon the success of that meal.
Therefore, being down rather late, the worthy lady concentrated her
energies upon the achievement of a copious repast, and, trusting to
former lessons, left Debby to her own resources for a few fatal
moments. After the flutter occasioned by being scooped into her seat by
a severe-nosed waiter, Debby had only courage enough left to refuse tea
and coffee and accept milk. That being done, she took the first
familiar viand that appeared, and congratulated herself upon being able
to get her usual breakfast. With returning composure, she looked about
her and began to enjoy the buzz of voices, the clatter of knives and
forks, and the long lines of faces all intent upon the business of the
hour; but her peace was of short duration. Pausing for a fresh relay of
toast, Aunt Pen glanced toward her niece with the comfortable
conviction that her appearance was highly creditable; and her dismay
can be imagined, when she beheld that young lady placidly devouring a
great cup of brown-bread and milk before the eyes of the assembled
multitude. The poor lady choked in her coffee, and between her gasps
whispered irefully behind her napkin,--
"For Heaven's sake, Dora, put away that mess! The Ellenboroughs are
directly opposite, watching everything you do. Eat that omelet, or
anything respectable, unless you want me to die of mortification."
Debby dropped her spoon, and, hastily helping herself from the dish her
aunt pushed toward her, consumed the leathery compound with as much
grace as she could assume, though unable to repress a laugh at Aunt
Pen's disturbed countenance. There was a slight lull in the clatter,
and the blithe sound caused several heads to turn toward the quarter
whence it came, for it was as unexpected and pleasant a sound as a
bobolink's song in a cage of shrill-voiced canaries.
"She's a jolly little thing and powerful pretty, so deuse take me if I
don't make up to the old lady and find out who the girl is. I've been
introduced to Mrs. Carroll at our house: but I suppose she won't
remember me till I remind her."
The "deuse" declining to accept of his repeated offers (probably
because there was still too much honor and honesty in the boy,) young
Leavenworth sought out Mrs. Carroll on the Piazza, as she and Debby
were strolling there an hour later.
"Joe Leavenworth, my dear, from one of our first families,--very
wealthy,--fine match,--pray, be civil,--smooth your hair, hold back
your shoulders, and put down your parasol," murmured Aunt Pen, as the
gentleman approached with as much pleasure in his countenance as it was
consistent with manly dignity to express upon meeting two of the
inferior race.
"My niece, Miss Dora Wilder. This is her first season at the beach,
and we must endeavor to make it pleasant for her, or she will be
getting homesick and running away to mamma," said Aunt Pen, in her
society-tone, after she had returned his greeting, and perpetrated a
polite fiction, by declaring that she remembered him perfectly, for he
was the image of his father.
Mr. Leavenworth brought the heels of his varnished boots together with
a click, and executed the latest bow imported, then stuck his glass in
his eye and stared till it fell out, (the glass, not the eye,) upon
which he fell into step with them, remarking,--
"I shall be most happy to show the lions: they are deused tame ones, so
you needn't be alarmed. Miss Wilder."
Debby was good-natured enough to laugh; and, elated with that success,
he proceeded to pour forth his stores of wit and learning in true
collegian style, quite unconscious that the "jolly little thing" was
looking him through and through with the smiling eyes that were
producing such pleasurable sensations under the mosaic studs. They
strolled toward the beach, and, meeting an old acquaintance, Aunt Pen
fell behind, and beamed upon the young pair as if her prophetic eye
even at this early stage beheld them walking altarward in a proper
state of blond white vest and bridal awkwardness.
"Can you skip a stone, Mr. Leavenworth? asked Debby, possessed with a
mischievous desire to shock the piece of elegance at her side.
"Eh? what's that?" he inquired, with his head on one side, like an
inquisitive robin.
Debby repeated her question, and illustrated it by sending a stone
skimming over the water in the most scientific manner. Mr. Joe was
painfully aware that this was not at all "the thing," that his sisters
never did so, and that Seguin would laugh confoundedly, if he caught
him at it; but Debby looked so irresistibly fresh and pretty under her
rose-lined parasol that he was moved to confess that he had done such a
thing, and to sacrifice his gloves by poking in the sand, that he might
indulge in a like unfashionable pastime.
"You'll be at the hop to-night, I hope, Miss Wilder," he observed,
introducing a topic suited to a young lady's mental capacity.
"Yes, indeed; for dancing is one of the joys of my life, next to
husking and making hay"; and Debby polked a few steps along the beach,
much to the edification of a pair of old gentlemen, serenely taking
their first constitutional.
"Making what?" cried Mr. Joe, poking after her.
"Hay; ah, that is the pleasantest fun in the world,--and better
exercise, my mother says, for soul and body, than dancing till dawn in
crowded rooms, with everything in a state of unnatural excitement. If
one wants real merriment, let him go into a new-mown field, where all
the air is full of summer odors, where wild-flowers nod along the
walls, where blackbirds make finer music than any band, and sun and
wind and cheery voices do their part, while windrows rise, and great
loads go rumbling through the lanes with merry brown faces atop. Yes,
much as I like dancing, it is not to be compared with that; for in the
one case we shut out the lovely world, and in the other we become a
part of it, till by its magic labor turns to poetry, and we harvest
something better than dried buttercups and grass."
As she spoke, Debby looked up, expecting to meet a glance of
disapproval; but something in the simple earnestness of her manner had
recalled certain boyish pleasures as innocent as they were hearty,
which now contrasted very favorably with the later pastimes in which
fast horses, and that lower class of animals, fast men, bore so large a
part. Mr. Joe thoughtfully punched five holes in the sand, and for a
moment Debby liked the expression of his face; then the old
listlessness returned, and, looking up, he said, with an air of ennui
that was half sad, half ludicrous, in one so young and so generously
endowed with youth, health, and the good gifts of this life,--
"I used to fancy that sort of thing years ago, but I'm afraid I should
find it a little slow now, though you describe it in such an inviting
manner that I would be tempted to try it, if a hay-cock came in my way;
for, upon my life, it's deused heavy work loafing about at these
watering-places all summer. Between ourselves, there's a deal of
humbug about this kind of life, as you will find, when you've tried it
as long as I have."
"Yes, I begin to think so already; but perhaps you can give me a few
friendly words of warning from the stones of your experience, that I
may be spared the pain of saying what so many look,--'Grandma, the
world is hollow; my doll is stuffed with sawdust; and I should 'like to
go into a convent, if you please.'"
Debby's eyes were dancing with merriment; but they were demurely
down-cast, and her voice was perfectly serious.
The milk of human kindness had been slightly curdled for Mr. Joe by
sundry college-tribulations; and having been "suspended," he very
naturally vibrated between the inborn jollity of his temperament and
the bitterness occasioned by his wrongs.
He had lost at billiards the night before, had been hurried at
breakfast, had mislaid his cigar-case, and splashed his boots;
consequently the darker mood prevailed that morning, and when his
counsel was asked, he gave it like one who bad known the heaviest
trials of this "Piljin Projiss of a wale."
"There's no justice in the world, no chance for us young people to
enjoy ourselves, without some penalty to pay, some drawback to worry us
like these confounded 'all-rounders.' Even here, where all seems free
and easy, there's no end of gossips and spies who tattle and watch till
you feel as if you lived in a lantern. 'Every one for himself, and the
Devil take the hindmost'; that's the principle they go on, and you have
to keep your wits about you in the most exhausting manner, or you are
done for before you know it. I've seen a good deal of this sort of
thing, and hope you'll get on better than some do, when it's known that
you are the rich Mrs. Carroll's niece; though you don't need that fact
to enhance your charms,--upon my life, you don't."
Debby laughed behind her parasol at this burst of candor; but her
independent nature prompted her to make a fair beginning, in spite of
Aunt Pen's polite fictions and well-meant plans.
"Thank you for your warning, but I don't apprehend much annoyance of
that kind," she said, demurely. "Do you know, I think, if young ladies
were truthfully labelled when they went into society, it would be a
charming fashion, and save a world of trouble? Something in this
style:--'Arabella Marabout, aged nineteen, fortune $100,000, temper
warranted'; 'Laura Eau-de-Cologne, aged twenty-eight, fortune $30,000,
temper slightly damaged'; Deborah Wilder, aged eighteen, fortune, one
pair of hands, one head, indifferently well filled, one heart, (not in
the market,) temper decided, and no expectations.' There, you see, that
would do away with much of the humbug you lament, and we poor souls
would know at once whether we were sought for our fortunes or
ourselves, and that would be so comfortable!"
Mr. Leavenworth turned away, with a convicted sort of expression, as
she spoke, and, making a spyglass of his hand, seemed to be watching
something out at sea with absorbing interest. He had been guilty of a
strong desire to discover whether Debby was an heiress, but had not
expected to be so entirely satisfied on that important subject, and was
dimly conscious that a keen eye had seen his anxiety, and a quick wit
devised a means of setting it at rest forever. Somewhat disconcerted,
he suddenly changed the conversation, and, like many another distressed
creature, took to the water, saying briskly,--
"By-the-by, Miss Wilder, as I've engaged to do the honors, shall I have
the pleasure of bathing with you when the fun begins? As you are fond
of hay-making, I suppose you intend to pay your respects to the old
gentleman with the three-pronged pitchfork?"
"Yes, Aunt Pen means to put me through a course of salt water, and any
instructions in the art of navigation will be gratefully received; for
I never saw the ocean before, and labor under a firm conviction, that,
once in, I never shall come out again till I am brought, like Mr.
Mantilini, a 'damp, moist, unpleasant body.'"
As Debby spoke, Mrs. Carroll hove in sight, coming down before the wind
with all sails set, and signals of distress visible long before she
dropped anchor and came along-side. The devoted woman had been
strolling slowly for the girl's sake, though oppressed with a mournful
certainty that her most prominent feature was fast becoming a fine
copper-color; yet she had sustained herself like a Spartan matron, till
it suddenly occurred to her that her charge might be suffering a like
"sea-change
Into something rich and strange."
Her fears, however, were groundless, for Debby met her without a
freckle, looking all the better for her walk; and though her feet were
wet with chasing the waves, and her pretty gown the worse for salt
water, Aunt Pen never chid her for the destruction of her raiment, nor
uttered a warning word against an unladylike exuberance of spirits, but
replied to her inquiry most graciously,--
"Certainly, my love, we shall bathe at eleven, and there will be just
time to get Victorine and our dresses; so run on to the house, and I
will join you as soon as I have finished what I am saying to Mrs.
Earl,"--then added, in a stage-aside, as she put a fallen lock off the
girl's forehead, "You are doing beautifully! He is evidently struck;
make yourself interesting, and don't burn your nose, I beg of you."
Debby's bright face clouded over, and she walked on with so much
stateliness that her escort wondered "what the deuse the old lady had
done to her," and exerted himself to the utmost to recall her merry
mood, but with indifferent success.
"Now I begin to feel more like myself, for this is getting back to
first principles, though I fancy I look like the little old woman who
fell asleep on the king's highway and woke up with abbreviated drapery;
and you look funnier still, Aunt Pen," said Debby, as she tied on her
pagoda-hat, and followed Mrs. Carroll, who walked out of her
dressing-room an animated bale of blue cloth surmounted by a gigantic
sun-bonnet.
Mr. Leavenworth was in waiting, and so like a blond-headed lobster in
his scarlet suit that Debby could hardly keep her countenance as they
joined the groups of bathers gathering along the breezy shore.
For an hour each day the actors and actresses who played their
different roles at the ----- Hotel with such precision and success put
off their masks and dared to be themselves. The ocean wrought the
change, for it took old and young into its arms, and for a little while
they played like children in their mother's lap. No falsehood could
withstand its rough sincerity; for the waves washed paint and powder
from worn faces, and left a fresh bloom there. No ailment could
entirely resist its vigorous cure; for every wind brought healing on
its wings, endowing many a meagre life with another year of health. No
gloomy spirit could refuse to listen to its lullaby, and the spray
baptized it with the subtile benediction of a cheerier mood. No rank
held place there; for the democratic sea toppled down the greatest
statesman in the land, and dashed over the bald pate of a millionnaire
with the same white-crested wave that stranded a poor parson on the
beach and filled a fierce reformer's mouth with brine. No fashion
ruled, but that which is as old as Eden,--the beautiful fashion of
simplicity. Belles dropped their affectations with their hoops, and
ran about the shore blithe-hearted girls again. Young men forgot their
vices and their follies, and were not ashamed of the real courage,
strength, and skill they had tried to leave behind them with their
boyish plays. Old men gathered shells with the little Cupids dancing
on the sand, and were better for that innocent companionship; and young
mothers never looked so beautiful as when they rocked their babies on
the bosom of the sea.
Debby vaguely felt this charm, and, yielding to it, splashed and sang
like any beach-bird, while Aunt Pen bobbed placidly up and down in a
retired corner, and Mr. Leavenworth swam to and fro, expressing his
firm belief in mermaids, sirens, and the rest of the aquatic
sisterhood, whose warbling no manly ear can resist.
"Miss Wilder, you must learn to swim. I've taught quantities of young
ladies, and shall be delighted to launch the 'Dora,' if you'll accept
me as a pilot. Stop a bit; I'll get a life-preserver," and leaving
Debby to flirt with the waves, the scarlet youth departed like a flame
of fire.
A dismal shriek interrupted his pupil's play, and looking up, she saw
her aunt beckoning wildly with one hand, while she was groping in the
water with the other. Debby ran to her, alarmed at her tragic
expression, and Mrs. Carroll, drawing the girl's face into the privacy
of her big bonnet, whispered one awful word, adding, distractedly,--
"Dive for them! oh, dive for them! I shall be perfectly helpless, if
they are lost!"
"I can't dive, Aunt Pen; but there is a man, let us ask him," said
Debby, as a black head appeared to windward.
But Mrs. Carroll's "nerves" had received a shock, and, gathering up her
dripping garments, she fled precipitately along the shore and vanished
into her dressing-room.
Debby's keen sense of the ludicrous got the better of her respect, and
peal after peal of laughter broke from her lips, till a splash behind
her put an end to her merriment, and, turning, she found that this
friend in need was her acquaintance of the day before. The gentleman
seemed pausing for permission to approach, with much the appearance of
a sagacious Newfoundland, wistful and wet.
"Oh, I'm very glad it's you, Sir!" was Debby's cordial greeting, as she
shook a drop off the end of her nose, and nodded, smiling.
The new-comer immediately beamed upon her like an amiable Triton,
saying, as they turned shoreward,--
"Our first interview opened with a laugh on my side, and our second
with one on yours. I accept the fact as a good omen. Your friend
seemed in trouble; allow me to atone for my past misdemeanors by
offering my services now. But first let me introduce myself; and as I
believe in the fitness of things, let me present you with an
appropriate card"; and, stooping, the young man wrote "Frank Evan" on
the hard sand at Debby's feet.
The girl liked his manner, and, entering into the spirit of the thing,
swept as grand a curtsy as her limited drapery would allow saying,
merrily,--
"I am Debby Wilder, or Dora, as aunt prefers to call me; and instead of
laughing, I ought to be four feet under water, looking for something we
have lost; but I can't dive, and my distress is dreadful, as you see."
"What have you lost? I will look for it, and bring it back in spite of
the kelpies, if it is a human possibility," replied Mr. Evan, pushing
his wet locks out of his eyes, and regarding the ocean with a
determined aspect.