We must now return to the young travellers, whom we left in the car,
expecting to reach their destination by nightfall. In this they were
disappointed, for when the train was within a few miles of Truro it came to
a sudden standstill, throwing some of the passengers out of their seats,
but seriously injuring no one.
"Something wrong with the engine!" was the explanation, when heads were
thrust from the windows to inquire the cause of the trouble.
This explanation was received with due submission by those accustomed to
railway travelling, but Elsie, her nerves unstrung by other causes, sat
crying hysterically, and would give no heed to Lancy's repeated declaration
that nothing serious was the matter.
"We will be detained here for a while, Elsie, but that is all," he added.
Elsie, though, seemed unable to control her sobs, and Dexie began to feel
anxious, for these crying fits invariably brought on a nervous headache,
and when at last the train started, Elsie was hardly in a fit state to
continue the journey.
Under the circumstances Lancy deemed it best to stop over at Truro until
the next trip of the Island boat. This would give Elsie time to recover,
and they would have an opportunity to see something of the pretty town they
had heard so highly praised.
Elsie felt relieved at this decision. She was unused to travelling, and
found the short journey tiresome in the extreme; indeed her throbbing
temples called imperatively for quietness and rest.
The train steamed into the dark, tunnel-like depot, and stepping out on the
platform, they found, after some difficulty, the little room that was
designated "The Waiting-Room," where Lancy left the girls to inquire for
hotel accommodations.
While in semi-darkness they waited his return, Dexie tried to ascertain if
there was not a pleasanter outlook than could be obtained from the door,
but the one dust-encrusted window gave a dim and indistinct view from that
quarter.
As if in answer to their wishes, Lancy speedily returned, and as they
gathered up their wraps Dexie asked:
"Do you know why they call this room the 'waiting-room,' Lancy? Give a
guess."
"Can't! I give it up," giving a glance around him.
"Well, I'll just tell you. This room has been 'waiting' for years for
someone to clean it, and that is how it has earned its name. Even the rusty
old stove has taken on the look of dejection that seems to haunt the
place."
Lancy was beginning to think that the little town had been very much
overpraised, as unfortunately the worst-looking part of it was situated
near the depot, and he felt disappointed and vexed that they had not been
able to continue their journey. His annoyance was increased when he learned
that there had been an excursion to the town the day before, crowding the
hotels, which had not yet recovered from the effects of the many
disturbances that had taken place inside their doors.
It was a new experience to the girls, this seeking a temporary home at a
public hotel, and the unpleasant features of hotel life, to which older
travellers shut their eyes, were to them unbearable.
Entering the parlor of the hotel to which he had been directed, Lancy told
the girls to be seated while he saw the proprietor; but the expression on
the faces of both girls gave Lancy some uneasy feelings, and Dexie's
uplifted nose told the cause of her disapproval.
"It will be no use for you to engage rooms here, Lancy," said she, "for if
all smells like this we won't stay."
"Well, I will just order a lunch, and we can decide about rooms later on."
This was found to have been a wise precaution, as the disgusting fumes of
stale tobacco-smoke and liquor, seemed to pervade every corner.
"It's no use being too particular, girls," said Lancy, as they rose from
the table, and re-entered the parlor, "we will not be here but a day or
two, you know."
"Well, but surely we can find some other place to stay in while we are
here. We don't want to appear at Mrs. Fremont's with our clothes smelling
like a bar-room!" said Dexie, rather sharply.
"Well, no doubt the next hotel will suit us better," and a few minutes
later they entered its door.
But it was quite evident, even to Lancy, that they had not bettered their
condition by going farther. The house had probably been very popular the
day before, and there was an air of confusion about the place that added
its unpleasantness to the atmosphere that must be breathed by those that
sought the hospitality of the house. Elsie looked timidly around the parlor
as she entered, as if expecting to see the ghosts of those who had offered
up so much incense; but the room was vacant, all having departed, leaving
behind a disagreeable reminder of their presence.
"We are just as badly off as ever," Elsie whispered timidly to Dexie. "It
is not very much better, is it, Dexie?"
"No, I should say not. The very curtains are full of it. How can people
bear it! Tobacco-smoke and rum! Do let us get out of here, Lancy, before
anyone comes in!"
"Hush, Dexie! Someone will hear you."
"No danger! but do let us run before they see us here."
"But we must stay somewhere, Dexie," said Lancy. "What shall we do?"
Dexie felt provoked at their unpleasant position, and she replied in no
gentle tone.
"Do! Well, I think if nothing better is to be obtained in the town, we will
do as some of our ancient ancestors have done before us, we will 'lodge
without, in the streets,'" and gathering up the wraps she walked out of the
house, closely followed by Elsie, and more uncertainly by Lancy.
The case was becoming serious, but it had its ludicrous side as well, which
reached its height when Dexie stood on the sidewalk in front of the hotel.
Throwing the wraps over her left arm, she raised her right hand high toward
heaven, and exclaimed in dramatic tones:
"Tell me, ye wingèd winds, that round my pathway roam,
Is there no hotel in Truro where the landlord sells no rum?"
And the answer came, not from the winds she had apostrophized, but from an
open window that she had not observed; and the answer was:
"Fair lady, there is none."
"There! I told you that someone would hear you, Dexie," said Lancy, vexed,
yet amused at her behavior.
But Dexie stood as if unable to move, and gazed at the open window in
astonishment.
But the owner of the voice now appeared at the door, and Dexie drew a sigh
of relief as she saw what a good-natured, smiling face it was that looked
into her own. He never belonged to that house, she felt sure, though it was
nothing to his credit to be lounging inside its doors. However, it was not
likely he would consider her remarks as personal, so she slowly regained
her composure.
With a profound bow, the gentleman at the window said:
"There are no hotels such as you speak of in the town, but there are
several private boarding-houses where travellers can be made comfortable.
May I have the pleasure of directing you to one?" This to Lancy.
"If it would not be too much trouble, we would be very much obliged," and
Lancy's natural state of mind slowly returned.
"Oh! no trouble at all," said the affable stranger; then turning to Dexie
he relieved her of her armful of wraps, with a simple "Allow me, please,"
and started away with Lancy, who was carrying the so far unused
lunch-basket, leaving the girls to follow at their own pace.
"Oh, Dexie! weren't you startled when that man spoke from the window?" said
Elsie. "I thought I should faint away with fright."
"It is a good thing that you thought better of it, then, for they would
have carried you right back into the hotel, and there would have been no
escaping after that."
"Where do you suppose he will take us?" Elsie asked as they turned a
corner.
"Couldn't say," was the unconcerned reply; "but as the place looks nicer
the farther we go, there is no need to be alarmed. I hope we will be
fortunate enough to secure lodgings on this pretty, tree-shaded street, for
flower-gardens are as thick as houses. Oh, see! he is going into that house
with the nice lawn in front of it."
A moment later they stepped through the gate that Lancy held open for
them, while their new friend went briskly up the walk and entered the house
in a manner that showed he was quite familiar with the place.
He had told Lancy as they walked along that he could recommend the house
where he boarded, and as he gave such a good account of the place, Lancy
determined to seek accommodation there.
"But there is one thing I must tell you," said the smiling stranger. "Mrs.
Morris is pretty sharp of tongue, and may make very strict inquiries as to
who was your grandmother, and what calling your great-grandfather followed,
before she will allow you to engage rooms. But do not mind it. I fancy you
can satisfy her on those points. She is as clean as a new pin and an
excellent cook--two good recommendations, you will allow."
"Well, I hope my ancestors will please her, for my sister is much in need
of rest. Is her husband of the same turn of mind as herself?" Lancy
smilingly asked.
"She is a widow, as is also her sister, who lives with her. It is the
latter who owns the place, but it is the younger and sharper one who keeps
it in running order. But here we are. I'll go ahead and prepare the way for
you," and he left Lancy to follow with the girls.
As they appeared at the door, Mrs. Morris was just coming towards it,
saying in no gentle tone:
"Don't you know any better, sir, than to rush into the house like that,
leaving all the doors wide open behind you! Do you suppose people will want
rooms here if they are swarming with flies?"
"On my honor, madam, there were only two that ventured through the door! I
counted them!" was the positive reply.
"Come in quickly, sir," to Lancy; "and you women--girls, I mean," taking a
second look, and shutting the door the moment they were inside of it. "You
want rooms and board," she added sharply, looking them well over. "And how
comes it that young people like you are travelling around without your
parents? Not running away, are you?"
"Oh, no, madam!" replied Lancy, keeping a straight face by a great effort.
"We were on our way to Charlottetown, but the train was delayed by an
accident, so we thought we would stay over in Truro and wait for the next
boat."
"Didn't get hurt by the accident, did you? for this ain't no hospital, no
way; only a plain boarding house for respectable people."
"We are not hurt in the least, madam, but we are very tired, and hope you
will allow us to stay here for a day or two," Lancy hastened to explain,
for her many objections began to alarm him.
"You come from Halifax, do you? Bad place that. Thieves and robbers thrive
there, I'm told. How long have you lived there?"
This was addressed to Dexie, but she dared not open her mouth to answer
lest she should laugh outright; and Elsie, fearing she might make some
unfortunate speech that would send them to the right-about, hastened to
reply: "For some years, ma'am; we used to live in England before we moved
to Halifax."
"Oh! English, are you? I was afraid you were Irish. You resemble some I
have seen. What trade does your father work at?"
"He has a store on Granville Street; but do let us stay here, please,"
Elsie replied, fearing that this catechising would result disastrously.
"Well, you seem proper enough. I guess you can stay." Then turning suddenly
around to where their guide stood, biting his moustache, "This is Mr.
Maxwell."
The two girls bowed, and Mr. Maxwell replied: "And I believe this
gentleman's name is Gurney. Mr. Gurney, Mrs. Morris."
And Lancy, not to be outdone by all this formality, added: "Allow me to
introduce my sister, Miss Gurney, and her friend, Miss Sherwood."
"What! you are not sisters! I thought you were, though you don't look it,
sure enough," said Mrs. Morris.
"I hope it don't matter, Mrs. Morris," said Dexie, who actually thought the
woman might refuse to keep her. "We are very dear friends, Miss Gurney and
I, and will gladly occupy the one room while we are here."
"Very well. Step into the parlor. I will bring my sister to see you," and
she disappeared in a twinkling, but returned a few moments later in a
quiet, dignified manner with her sister, saying:
"These young people want to stay here a few days. Shall we keep them?"
"Why, to be sure, Matilda. Take off your hats, my dears; you look warm. So
you are only going to make a short visit, my sister tells me."
"Yes; we are going on to Charlottetown in a day or two," Dexie replied.
"Perhaps you would like to go to your room at once? Matilda, let them have
the pink room; it will be the most pleasant. I will try and entertain the
young man while they are gone," said Mrs. Gleason, whose manner was as
quiet and pleasant as her sister's was sharp and abrupt.
But Maxwell had decided to see to the young man himself--long enough, at
least, to find out something about his companion; so, as soon as Mrs.
Morris left the room, he turned to the good-natured sister, saying:
"Let me take him to my room for awhile, Mrs. Gleason; then you will not be
bothered with either of us," and, reading permission in her smiling face,
he led the way upstairs.
The room Maxwell occupied was really worth visiting, and it told at a
glance the character of the owner. Its walls were decorated with articles
that would not have been allowed inside the doors had Mrs. Morris beheld
them in time to utter a protest, for she was as timid about some things as
she was sharp in others. For instance, there was a fine breech-loading
rifle, dear to the heart of Maxwell, that hung on the wall above a brace of
handsome revolvers. These were the cause of constant terror and alarm to
Mrs. Morris, for she never entered the room without a look of fear in their
direction. She fully expected them to "blaze away at her," notwithstanding
the fact that Maxwell had repeatedly assured her that they were not loaded.
Then there were several stuffed animals that had been deprived of life by
these very weapons, and Maxwell had their forms preserved in as natural an
attitude as possible. While these added to the adornment of the room, they
likewise served to increase Mrs. Morris' terror, and she could not get
over the idea that they might "jump at her, for they always looked just
ready to do it."
These, among other things, gave Mrs. Morris a particular aversion to the
owner of the articles, for it was no trifling thing to keep this room well
dusted and in proper order, with one's body in a quiver of fright all the
time, not knowing from what direction she might be assailed.
But the treasure that took Lancy's eyes directly he entered the room was
the display of fishing-rods that hung on the opposite wall, and he stepped
up at once to examine them.
"That is a fine rod you have there," he remarked to Maxwell.
"Yes, rather; fishing is my favorite sport. I have caught a five-pounder
with this light one," and in the discussion of flies, reels, etc., they
were fast forgetting that they were utter strangers but two short hours
ago.
Presently Maxwell asked, as if it had just occurred to him:
"Who is this young friend of yours, this Miss Sherwood? She is very
amusing; quite an original, is she not?"
"Well, she is something different from the average young lady, if that is
what you mean. She is an American."
"Ah! I thought as much; and your _sister's_ particular friend, is she?"
giving a sly look at Lancy.
"Yes," not heeding the look, but aware of the hint conveyed in the words.
"My sister's health is not good, and Miss Sherwood accompanies her to
Charlottetown, as she was not willing to go alone. They have been very
intimate ever since Miss Sherwood moved to Halifax. I am sure they are both
well pleased that we did not stay at the hotel, seeing that through your
kindness we have secured such comfortable quarters here."
"Don't mention it! that appeal to the winds would have moved the hardest
heart. I guess she got a start when I spoke from the window. Ha, ha! I
fancy I see her yet. She would make a fine actress."
"You had better not make that remark to the lady in question. She would not
consider it a compliment, I can tell you," said Lancy.
"No? Then what sort of a speech would your Miss Sherwood call
complimentary?"
"Better try and find out for yourself," said Lancy, smiling. "It has been
too hard a thing for me to discover for myself to give it away."
A few minutes later, hearing the voices of the young ladies in conversation
with Mrs. Gleason downstairs, the young men joined them.
But the entrance of the gentlemen seemed to put a bridle on the tongues of
the little party, for Dexie was not slow in perceiving that Maxwell was
trying to quiz her, and it was very hard to withstand the good-humored
banter of this young gentleman. She stood the teasing as long as she
thought necessary, then her ready tongue made Maxwell confess that for once
he had met his match, and the laughable occurrence of their first meeting
was allowed to drop. Dexie was well aware that her snubbing was not
relished, for Maxwell sat regarding her silently as she conversed in low
tones to Elsie, pulling at his moustache with a restless movement that was
quite annoying, if he only knew it.
Why is it that gentlemen who possess this ornamental appendage to their
upper lip persist in using it so unkindly? You see it at all times and in
all places, at home by their own fireside, in church, when the sermon is
supposed to be occupying their attention, on the streets, in fact
everywhere you will see the moustache undergoing torture at the hands of
its possessor. Some merely smooth it out, or daintily curl the ends of it,
if it happens to be long enough; some lick at it, like an animal at a lump
of salt: some chew it savagely, till you wonder there is a hair of it left;
in fact it is badly misused by the majority of men, for few leave it to
serve its legitimate purpose.
After tea, at Mr. Maxwell's suggestion, the party went out for a walk. They
strolled up and down the principal streets until twilight was almost over,
and their first impression of the place was happily dispelled. They were
willing to accord the same praise to the town as did others who had visited
it. Cleanliness and thrift seemed the characteristics of the majority of
the inhabitants, and the beautiful grounds and gardens that surrounded
most of the houses spoke well for the taste of the owners.
When the time came for them to continue their journey, more than one member
of the family regretted their departure, for their presence had quite
brightened the household, and Dexie had won the approval of Mrs. Morris
herself by her quick movements and practical remarks, and for the decided
manner that refused all attentions from Maxwell.
"If you ever pass this way again you must come and see us," said Mrs.
Morris at parting, "and if any of your friends ever visit the town we will
be happy to accommodate them."
"Thank you, Mrs. Morris," said Dexie; "I will not forget it. We could
hardly advise anyone to make an extended stay in your pretty town if they
were obliged to patronize your hotels," looking up with a smile at Mr.
Maxwell, who was waiting to accompany them to the depot.
"I am afraid our hotels have given you a poor opinion of the place, Miss
Sherwood," said Mr. Maxwell, as he fingered his moustache; "but you must
remember that they are not intended for fastidious young ladies, but for
the accommodation of the general travelling public."
"Then it does not speak well for the tastes of the 'general travelling
public,'" replied Dexie, as they turned towards the depot, "and it is a
pity that the one blot on your pretty town is just where it falls under the
notice of strangers who enter it by the railway."
Years after, when Dexie made her next visit to the town, she was surprised
to see the change that had taken place in the vicinity of the railway
station. The gloomy, dingy depot had given place to one that was light,
airy and commodious, and the unsightly buildings in the neighborhood were
replaced by better and worthier structures.
The hotels she had so justly condemned were either obliterated or so
improved upon as to be unrecognizable; and if the objectionable bar-rooms
were not suppressed, public opinion had caused them to be placed in a more
obscure corner of the building, and the respectable stranger was no longer
insulted by their immediate presence. But of this more anon.