ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
The chief event of the day was to be the exploration of "Si Waterman's
Folly." This occurred immediately after dinner.
Jim and Herbert, aided by Mr. Winters's strong arms, found small
difficulty in removing the decayed plank covering which the old miner
had placed above his narrow-mouthed shaft. This had once rolled easily
enough upon deftly applied rollers and had been arranged to protect Mr.
Waterman from detection when excavating, in search of that gold which he
believed lay buried in south meadow. He was a secretive man who shared
no secrets with his neighbors if he could help it, yet whose very
idiosyncrasies betrayed them.
"Well, that's a good job done!" cried Seth, as the cover was pushed
aside. "See there?"
He placed his heel upon the boards, which at once broke into fragments
beneath his weight.
"Why, anybody might have stepped upon it and fallen through!" cried
Dorothy, astonished.
"Yes. A good job to have prevented such an accident. But the hole, or
shaft is--Hello, friend GHOST! Come out of that, if you please; all your
neighbors have come to visit you and expect you to show the honors of
your retreat!"
Many heads were now crowded together, peering into the dimness of the
shaft. It sloped inward and downward into a wider opening that was
almost like a small chamber in its dimensions. Another entrance led to
this chamber, a passage of a few feet in length, burrowed beneath the
ground and opening upon the hillside beyond. Through this little tunnel
came fresh air and light; and within the chamber had been collected the
odds and ends of things which had caught the half-wit's fancy. A bundle
of straw and a worn-out horse-blanket which somebody had discarded
formed his bed. Some bits of broken crockery furnished his table, a
board wedged against the rock. A spring of water gushed from one wall
of the chamber and trickled into the depths below, and a curious odor
escaped from the spring.
The leather jacket, the glazed hat with its bedraggled scarlet feathers,
lay carefully folded upon the straw pallet, and its owner sat beside the
jacket shamefaced and terrified by this intrusion upon his retreat. But
it was something else that caught Dorothy's attention--a simple suit of
denim that had once been blue but was now faded by sun and water to a
ghostly white. Peter wore these now and--she recognized them.
"Peter! Peter! So _you_ are the good 'Ghost' that came in the night and
tilled my garden for me! Come out, come out and let me thank you!"
Though he had obstinately refused to answer the call of Seth Winters,
the voice of the girl he had so secretly served, because she had been
kind to him, was instantly obeyed. He climbed out of the shaft and,
taking hold of her skirt as he had done once before, stood foolishly
smiling while his good friend, the blacksmith, gayly announced:
"Behold the 'Haunt' of Skyrie! The honestest, most innocent, most
grateful of Ghosts! During the years it was vacant he made Skyrie his
home, sleeping of winters in its hillside room, and in summer seeking
this cool retreat where we have just unearthed him. He must, he will,
_haunt_ no more; for if I judge aright the new master of old Skyrie will
at once engage him to take the place of Pa Babcock, resigned. A better
gardener there isn't 'up-mounting.' A more devoted servitor no man can
find, once his affection is won as our little Dorothy has won it. What
say, neighbors Chester? Will you secure your greatly needed 'hired man'
and forever 'lay the ghost' of Skyrie at one 'fell swoop'?"
"Aye, aye! Hear!" cried father John, entering fully into the
blacksmith's spirit, even while he did not fully understand, till
Dorothy explained all the mysterious, yet beneficent, happenings of the
past few weeks; and then not only he but mother Martha bade the poor
waif welcome to their home, while all the others standing by applauded
vigorously.
"But this isn't all we came to see. The gold mine, the gold mine! Peter
may be human gold, but the rich yellow metal is what we want!" cried
Herbert, when the cheers had died away.
"Who'll go first?" asked somebody.
"Why, I, of course!" returned young Montaigne, springing recklessly into
that rough shaft which veered from the wide safety of the upper chamber.
Whereat a strange thing happened. Peter dropped the fold of his new
mistress's skirt and stepped hastily forward, warning by gestures and
his uncertain mumbling that Herbert should not go. Alas! the warning was
useless. The spirit of adventure was on the whole party, an eager desire
to be the first who should unearth a "nugget," and even cautious Jim
Barlow caught the infection, while Dorothy ran forward as lightly as if
she were to cross only the smooth meadow.
As the heads disappeared below the surface of the ground, and the shouts
of those who scrambled downward over the rude rocky shaft grew fainter,
Peter was seized with a terrible trembling and stood as if rooted to the
ground in fear. A minute more and a girl's scream aroused him.
Dorothy's! She was falling--falling--into an unknown depth! One
mis-step, the slimy stones, the unforeseen peril! Both Jim and Herbert
were already far below, following with extreme care, if still with all
the speed possible, the tortuous excavation, in search of that deluding
metal which has lured so many to their ruin. Only Peter Piper, the
simple, to hear and comprehend.
As if by magic his trembling ceased and with a cat-like leap, so swift
and soft it was, he had also disappeared beneath the ground. Then
something whispered to the Chesters of their darling's danger. They
pressed forward to the edge of the pit, and almost equally pale with
fear, Mrs. Cecil joined them; clinging to Martha with a sympathy of
distress which broke down in a moment the younger woman's dislike of the
elder.
None of the trio were prepared for that which followed. Dorothy's slight
figure came hurtling out of the pit's mouth, tossed to their very feet
by the long arms of Peter Piper. A moment later he stood beside them,
exhausted, silent; while the girl explained, as her own breath returned
and terror subsided:
"Oh! he saved my life! He saved my life! I was falling--I knew--it was
death--those awful stones--so dark. He caught me, he knew. He isn't
'simple' but wise; wise and oh! so good! Peter, you blessed Ghost! I owe
you my life!"
But this excitement ebbed only to give way to another. When Dorothy had
recovered her composure and sat quietly beside her elders, Peter beside
her, with no desire left on her part for either explorations or the
biggest of "nuggets," a fresh cry of alarm sounded from the mine. The
cry preluded the frenzied rush out of the chasm of those who could
escape it first; but it was upon Herbert and Jim that all were
intent--upon poor Jim more than the other.
As they came up Peter Piper cast one glance upon them, then hid his face
and shuddered.
"A horse! A doctor! Quick, quick! For the love of God, a horse!" gasped
Herbert, and in a few broken words explained:
"We got into a nest--a nest of serpents. One had raised its head--I
didn't see it--to strike my hand! Jim--Jim caught it, it swung
around--bit him--O God! Don't let him die! He offered his life for mine
whom he didn't like! He saved me! Can nobody--nobody save him?"
With his arm around his rescuer the frantic Herbert searched the
blanched faces for some sign of help; and out of the startled silence
which greeted his appeal came Seth Winters's calm voice:
"To my shop. I've medicines there. I'll take one side, you the other,
Herbert. If need be, we can make a 'chair' and carry him between us. You
can walk, for a while anyway, Jim. You are not going to die. Steady now,
on your own feet, steady--as when you so nobly threw away your life to
save the boy you 'didn't like'!"
The shop was, indeed, the nearest place where help could be obtained,
and they started, all following; a sad and terrified party that but an
hour before had been so gay and happy. And presently Jim's nerve
returned to him, for it had been worsted for the moment by the cries and
assertions of the others that he was doomed to death.
But where was Dorothy--who should have been foremost with sympathy and
cheer? Halfway down the mountain before the company had all left that
unlucky south meadow. Fully down by the time the smithy was reached.
Race, Portia, race. A life hangs on your fleetness! Jim's life, Jim's!
Who has proved that "greater love hath no man but that he lay down his
life for his friend." And this was more than "friend"--it was the boy
"he didn't like"--yet by the strange rule of nature, was forever after
to be the Damon to his Pythias. Experience has long proved that the
surest way to overcome an aversion to a person is to do that person a
kindness.
Where, too, was Peter, the simple? Not far behind his faithful friend,
the smith, having lingered only long enough to dart into the woods and
fill his hands with a certain herb he knew; then to follow and reach the
smithy just in time to hear its owner say:
"Faint, Jim? Drink this. Herbert, bare his arm. It will be heroic
treatment, my lad, but, _my hero_--bear it! and live to teach the world
a lesson."
Some turned their eyes aside as the smith drew from the glowing forge a
white-hot iron and held it to the wound upon Jim's sunburned flesh. Not
Jim! this wise old man toward whom his young soul had yearned from the
beginning had called him "hero": and within himself he knew that he was
far more such now than when he had rescued Dorothy from bondage, though
they had termed him "hero" even then.
The wound cauterized, came Peter Piper with his healing leaves, bringing
infinite relief; and soon as might be came also Dorothy upon her piebald
mare, and the doctor close beside her on his own fleet steed; approving
all that had been done, assuring everybody that no fatal results could
follow such prompt treatment; and especially commending Peter Piper for
his knowledge of those simples which mother Nature grows so luxuriantly
for the use of all her children.
Thus ended the picnic and the search for hidden gold. But so soon as
most of the company had departed from the over-crowded shop, Jim was
made to ride upon Portia home to Skyrie, though he was now able to smile
and declare that his legs were so long they would drag upon the ground.
However, he managed to hold them sufficiently high and to adapt himself
to the despised saddle of a girl. With him went the few who knew him
best; Seth Winters and Herbert, Mrs. Cecil and Martha, Helena
herself--not to be outdone in gratitude for her brother's life; and
John Chester with his "little maid" beside him. They had all anticipated
finding a restful quiet at Skyrie; but they failed. The moving events of
that memorable day were not all accomplished yet.
On the little upper porch sat Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne, waiting the return
of Skyrie's owners to lay before them the scheme first evolved by their
son and heir, and now indorsed with all heartiness by themselves.
Chatting familiarly alongside, was Friend Oliver Sands; never more
benignant nor complacent than now, and never more persistently engaged
in "squeezing his hands" than at that hour.
Below, on the stone doorsteps, sat the two surveyors who had once before
visited the cottage; and at sight of these the hearts of the elder
Chester's sank, while Seth merrily whispered to Dorothy:
"Behold the hour is ripe and I _am_ here to see!"
One other group there was, strolling idly about the garden, toying with
Lady Rosalind, and contentedly amusing themselves until such time as
they could make their errand to Skyrie known. Nobody seemed to know
them; even Seth Winters failed to recognize the strangers and, for a
moment, feared what they might have come to say. The next instant his
brow cleared and his laughter was merrier than before.
Mr. Montaigne was the first to state his business, when once all were
ready to listen. It was extremely simple and concerned Dorothy most of
all. Said he:
"My dear young lady, we have come to invite you to accompany us to
Europe. We shall leave New York in a few weeks and remain abroad for
one, possibly two, years. We are going to give our children the benefit
of foreign education, which we want you to share with them and along
whatever lines you, or your parents, select. Of course, there will be no
expense to you, who will be to us exactly as our own daughter, and whom
we have learned to love almost as such. Will you go?"
For a moment nobody spoke. Then said Dorothy very quietly, and scarcely
daring to look at Helena or Herbert in their so evident disappointment:
"I thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne, for your great kindness. It is
very wonderful that you should have shown it to me whom you have known
such a little while. But I cannot go. My father and mother need me
and--I need them. A foreign education would not help me to earn my
living as I must do some day, and--I thank you again, but I cannot go."
To Helena's and Herbert's pleadings, which so strenuously followed, she
could give no other answer. The invitation had been most tempting to her
who so dearly loved to see new places and new people, but--her answer
still was: "No."
Then the family from the Towers departed and Friend Oliver began:
"Thee is a good daughter, Dorothy Chester, and thee has well said that
as a poor girl thee will need only the plainest education."
"Beg pardon, sir, but I did not say that! I shall get just as good an
education as I can, but I won't turn my back on those I love and who
love me for the sake of getting it. That's already planned for. Dear Mr.
Winters is going to open a school in the old smithy and all of us are to
attend it. We've talked it over many a day, knowing how soon our summer
friends would be away and our own real time for study and work would
come. Jim and I, all the Babcocks, and----"
But the miller had scant interest in these plans. He interrupted her by
turning to Martha Chester and saying:
"I suppose, Martha, that thee has reconsidered thy objection to selling
south meadow, or are ready to pay me my money loaned thee 'on demand.'
Is thee ready?"
"Oh! sir!" began the troubled housemistress, and was amazed that a child
should interfere by saying:
"Wait a moment, mother dear. How much do my parents owe you 'on
demand'?"
At a nod from Mr. Winters she had slipped away and as swiftly returned
and now stood before the astonished company, holding a fat purse in her
hands and calmly awaiting the miller's reply.
For an instant he could not make it. His amazement was too deep. The
next with a sort of chuckle, as if sure that so large an amount could
not be held in so small a compass, he announced the sum with interest in
full.
"Very well. Here, father, is the money. More I think than you will need.
It is mine. My very own to give to you and mother, as I do give it now.
Mr. Winters knows. He will explain. Pay the man, do please, and let him
go."
John Chester glanced at Seth Winters and received that gentleman's
confirmatory nod; then he promptly opened the pocket-book and counted
out the crisp banknotes which freed him and his home from the society of
the miller and his men.
Oliver departed. If he were crestfallen he did not show it, and in that
respect the worthy smith and Mrs. Cecil both were disappointed. He even
ventured to congratulate the Chesters upon the possession of "such a
forehanded" daughter and to wish them every prosperity. With that and
summoning his surveyors, he took his benign presence out of the way.
Strangely enough, the surveyors did not at once follow, even to secure
their wage which so just a man would surely pay. They even made light of
such wages. During the time of waiting they had made other possible
arrangements with the gentlemen in the garden, and they waited still
further, with admirable patience, to see if these arrangements were
correct.
It was time for the strangers in the garden to have their own little
interview, and, seeing them approach, poor mother Martha passed her hand
across her tired brow, confused by all that had happened and dreading
what might come. Too tired, as yet, to fully realize herself that her
dreadful "debt" no longer rested on her shoulders.
But she need not have feared. These strangers were plain business men,
with no sentiment about them. Said the foremost:
"Madam, we represent a syndicate prepared to buy, or operate in common
with you, an iron mine that has been discovered on your land. In
connection with this mine there is also a mineral spring from which a
rich revenue may be obtained if properly managed. I have the honor to
lay before you the two propositions of our company and to close with you
as soon as the legal forms can be completed. It is royalty or open
sale--if you will consider either."
Oh, but it was well that two such wise and faithful counselors as Seth
Winters and Mrs. Calvert were present then to advise these
inexperienced Chesters for their own best advantage. Be assured they did
so, and subsequently that "deal" was accomplished on the wise "royalty"
basis, which proved, in one sense, indeed a "gold mine"; although the
"gold" was but pure iron and a most unsavory water--that local
physicians had always maintained would cure many diseases, and which
soon received widespread attention elsewhere.
Such a day and such an ending! What time more fitting to take a
temporary leave of our dear Dorothy? Whose life moves forward in
blessing, as all lives should move, and whom we must come back to at
some happy, future day.
All partings hold a touch of sadness--so must ours. But there is
brightness in the sunset which floods the fields of Skyrie, a promise of
greater brightness on the morrow. Before the night falls, while the
sunshine still lasts, let us bid our heroine a real, old-fashioned
farewell:
"Well, Dorothy, good-by!"
THE END
* * * * *
THE DOROTHY BOOKS
By EVELYN RAYMOND
These stories of an American girl by an American author have made
"Dorothy" a household synonym for all that is fascinating. Truth and
realism are stamped on every page. The interest never flags, and is
ofttimes intense. No more happy choice can be made for gift books, so
sure are they to win approval and please not only the young in years,
but also "grown-ups" who are young in heart and spirit.
Dorothy
Dorothy at Skyrie
Dorothy's Schooling
Dorothy's Travels
Dorothy's House Party
Dorothy in California
Dorothy on a Ranch
Dorothy's House Boat
Dorothy at Oak Knowe
Dorothy's Triumph
Dorothy's Tour
Copyright, 1907, by The Platt & Peck Co.