Produced by Al Haines
ALL ABOARD
A STORY FOR GIRLS
BY FANNIE E. NEWBERRY
_Author of "The Odd One," "Not for Profit," "Bubbles," "Joyce's
Investments," "Sara a Princess," etc., etc._
"Our Faith, a star, shone o'er a rocky height;
The billows rose, and she was quenched in night."
NEW YORK:
A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS.
COPYRIGHT, 1898.
By A. I. BRADLEY & CO
IN MEMORY
OF A HAPPY VISIT,
LET ME DEDICATE TO YOU, MY COUSINS
H. S. AND W. FASSETT,
THIS LITTLE BOOK
WITH MY AFFECTIONATE REGARDS
CONTENTS.
CHAP.
I. Debby has a Caller
II. The Leave-taking
III. New Surroundings
IV. Introductions
V. "On the Bay of Biscay, O!"
VI. Portuguese Towns and Heroes
VII. Kite-flying and Gibraltar
VIII. Nightmare and Gossip
IX. A Game of Gromets
X. Mrs. Windemere's Dinner
XI. A Sunday at Sea
XII. The Story of a Wreck
XIII. Algiers and Andy
XIV. Guesswork
XV. Tropical Evenings
XVI. Danger
XVII. Lady Moreham Speaks
XVIII. Last Days Together
XIX. Old Ties and New
XX. In Old Bombay
XXI. Friends Ashore
XXII. In Elephanta's Caves
"ALL ABOARD!"
CHAPTER I.
DEBBY HAS A CALLER.
"And they're twins, you say?"
"Yes'm, two of 'em, and as putty as twin blooms on a stalk, 'm."
The second speaker was a large, corpulent woman, with a voluminous
white apron tied about her voluminous waist. She stood deferentially
before the prospective roomer who had asked the question, to whom she
was showing the accommodations of her house, with interpolations of a
private nature, on a subject too near her heart, to-day, to be ignored
even with strangers. As she stood nodding her head with an emphasis
that threatened to dislodge the smart cap with purple ribbons, which
she had rather hastily assumed when summoned to the door, the caller
mentally decided that here was a good soul, indeed, but rather
loquacious to be the sole guardian of two girls "putty as twin blooms."
She, herself, was tall and slender, and wore her rich street costume
with an easy elegance, as if fine clothing were too much a matter of
course to excite her interest. But upon her face were lines which
showed that, at some time, she had looked long and deeply into the
hollow eyes of trouble, possibly despair. Even the smile now curving
her well-turned lips lacked the joyousness of youth, though in years
she seemed well on the sunny side of early middle age. She was
evidently in no hurry this morning, and finding her possible landlady
so ready to talk, bent an attentive ear that was most flattering to the
good creature.
"I knew," she said, sinking into a rattan chair tied up with blue
ribbons, like an over-dressed baby, "that these rooms had an air which
suggested youth and beauty. I don't wonder your heart is sore to lose
them."
"Ah, it's broke it is, 'm!" the voice breaking in sympathy, "for I've
looked upon 'em as my own, entirely, and it's nigh to eighteen year,
now. Their mother, just a slip of a girl herself, 'm, had only time
for a long look at her babbies before she begun to sink, and when she
see, herself, 'twas the end, she whispered, 'Debby'--I was right over
her, 'm, leaving the babbies to anybody, for little they were to me
then, beside the dear young mistress--so she says, says she, 'Debby!'
and I says, very soft-like, 'Yes, Miss Helen,'--'cause, mind you, I'd
been her maid afore she was merrit at all, and I allays forgot when I
wasn't thinkin', and give her the old name--and I says, 'Yes, Miss
Helen?' And then she smiles up at me just as bright as on her wellest
days, 'm, and says, 'Call 'em Faith and Hope,' Debby; that's what they
would be to me if--and not rightly onderstandin' of her, I breaks in,
'Faith and Hope? Call _what_ faith and hope?' For, thinkses I, 'she
may be luny with the fever.' But no, she says faint-like, but clear
and sound as a bell, 'Call my babies so. Let their names be Faith and
Hope, and when their poor father comes home, say it was my wish, and he
must not grieve too much, for he will have Faith and Hope always with
him.' And then the poor dear sinks off again and never rightly comes
to, till she's clean gone."
"And their father was on a voyage, then?"
"Yes 'm, second mate of the 'International.' He's cap'n now, 'm, with
an interest in the steamship, and they do say they ain't many that's so
dreadfully much finer in the big P. & O. lines--leastwise so I've heerd
tell, 'm, and I guess they ain't no mistake about it, nuther."
"And you have mothered his babies all these years?"
"I have, 'm, yes. In course when it come time for their schoolin' I
had to let 'em go. 'Twas then Cap'n Hosmer was going to give up this
house, 'cause 'twa'n't no use a-keepin' it while they was off, but thet
made me put my wits to work, and I planned a plan as I ain't seen fit
to find no fault with to this day. I ups and merries John Gunter,
what's been a-hangin' around a year or more, and I says, 'We'll take
the house off your hands, Cap'n. I've made up a notion to keep
lodgers, and then that'll give my girls a place to come to, and git fed
up, a holidays--don't you see, sir? And at that he laughs and says,
says he--for he's a man what's sound and sweet clear through, like a
hard cabbage, 'm, no rotten nowhere--and he says: 'A good plan, Debby,
and I'll rent your two best rooms for my daughters now, and pay a year
in advance,' and so 'twas done, 'm. And so's went the last five year,
them a-coming and going, jest like the sunshine in Aprile, but now--"
Again the always husky voice broke, and the white apron was turned into
a handkerchief for the nonce.
"Now you are going to lose them, you say?"
"Yes'm. They're to ship with their father for the long cruise--that
is, I s'pose I oughter say they're a-goin with him on the long v'yage
to Ingy."
"I presume he gets lonely for them too, poor man!"
"In course he do, 'm--I sees thet plain--and I can't really say a word,
only--hist! I believes it's 'em, now. If that ain't my Miss Hope's
rush through the hall then I'll--"
An unmistakable breeze and clatter, in which fresh young voices could
be plainly heard, sounded without, and, as both women faced the door,
it was flung somewhat violently open, and a young creature appeared in
its frame who seemed the incarnation of joy and brightness.
Involuntarily the lady murmured "Hope!" for the young girl's great
brown eyes were alight with fun, and her red-brown hair seemed to laugh
sympathetically in every curly lock and tangle, while her parted lips
showed teeth like bits of alabaster polished to splendor.
She had scarcely entered when there seemed to be two of her, for her
sister, close behind, was so perfect a counterpart that no one, unless
a keen observer, could detect a difference. The stranger was a keen
observer and noticed that, while eyes, teeth, hair, and rich complexion
were identical, also the height and build, the expression was quite
different. Where the first-comer was alert, bird-like, and possibly
inclining to sharpness, the second was more dreamy, peaceful, and slow.
She had called the one "Hope," and saw, with quick pleasure, that she
was right, for as the girl stopped suddenly, abashed at finding a
stranger in the room, Mrs. Gunter said apologetically--
"I was jest takin' this lady through, Miss Hope. She thowt as she
might be a-wantin' of these after you an' Miss Faith was a-gone, maybe.
Mrs. Rollston it is."
Each young girl acknowledged the introduction with a pleasant little
nod, and a murmured, "Happy to meet you, Mrs. Rollston," so precisely
similar in voice and manner that she could not help an amused smile;
yet, even here she could detect that same subtle difference in the
expression. Hope's nod was accompanied by a blithe glance, keen, yet
inviting, Faith's with a softly-inquiring, yet half-indifferent look,
as if some undercurrent of thought were still unstirred. She felt that
Hope appropriated her friendliness as a matter of course, while Faith,
though not repelling it, maintained a fine reserve which might, or
might not, vanish like hoar-frost in the first sun-ray of affection.
She said gently, "Your kind Mrs. Gunter has been telling me something
of your plans. It takes a great deal out of a house when young people
leave it."
"Dear old Deb! She doesn't realize what a lot of care it will take off
her shoulders, though," cried Hope, quickly. "It will give her hours
and hours for Gyp and the lodgers. You see,"--laughing and dimpling
till Mrs. Rollston longed to kiss her,--"I put the dog first."
"Which does not hurt my feelings yet, whatever it may do later,"
returned that lady in kind. "And when do you sail, may I ask?"
"To-morrow morning. I'm so glad we're to start by daylight. We're
going to take Debby out, and send her back in the pilot boat, aren't
we, Faith?"
"You nearly promised, you know, Debby," put in the one addressed,
seeing dissent in her eye.
"But not quite, honey. I allays feels it's a temptin' of Proverdance
for such a shaped woman as I be to set foot on things what goes
a-rockin' around on the water. I like to feel good solid earth under
them feet!" and she peered quizzically over her round person at her
huge carpet slippers, and shook her head with a chuckle of amusement.
"I've watched them frisky little steam critters 'fore now, and they're
most dujeous like to a babby jest a-larnin' to walk, or a tipsy man
a-tryin' to steer straight when he sees double. No, thankee kindly,
but I guess I'll say good-by ashore, where I can cry it out comfortable
after you're gone."
"Foolish old Debby!" laughed Hope, while Faith looked with a sweet
regret at her dear old nurse, but did not speak.
"Do you know," said the stranger, who was about leaving, her business
having been long finished, "I am wondering how it happened that these
names were bestowed just as they are. Can you tell me, Mrs. Gunter?
It would seem as if the babies must have shown their dispositions when
very young--or was it a happy chance?"
Deborah laughed with unction. It was a story she was fond of telling.
They had just descended the stairs and she opened a door into a
snug-looking sitting-room off the hall as she said--
"Well, jest set you down again for a minute, 'm, if you please, and
I'll tell you. I ain't good for much at standin' long--too many pounds
to hold up. Here, 'm, this is the best chair--now I'll tell ye. Fact
is, I was in a real pupplex over them names for a time. First, I was
a-goin' to wait till their fayther got home, but they kept a-growin' so
fast thet it didn't seem right not to have 'em named. I was real
worrited for a spell till, all at once, I found out that they was
named--yes, and I'd done it myself! 'Twas like this: When they'd begin
to be a stir in the crib, and I was right busy, I'd say to my shadder,
'I hope it isn't this one, 'cause she wouldn't keep still a blessed
minute'; or I'd say, 'I've faith to b'lieve it's that one, for she'll
coo and play with her toes till I gets ready.' 'Twas allays jest
so--'I hope,' or 'I've faith,' every time. And soon as it come to me,
why, I jest named the obstreperous one Hope and the quiet one
Faith--don't you see?"
"I do. It was bright of you, too. It really means that the names came
by nature, so fit like a glove, of course. But I must be off at once.
Thank you for a pleasant morning, Mrs. Gunter! I will bring my husband
around to-morrow for his approval, if he can spare the time. At any
rate, I think I am not too hasty in saying we will take the rooms. We
will, if you please, pay by the week in advance, as he is only here on
business, and our departure may, necessarily, be sudden. Good-morning."
She departed, followed by the smiles and curtesies of Mrs. Gunter, but
not till the latter had found time to whisper huskily, "Aren't they
sweet girls, 'm, and do you wonder it breaks me in pieces to lose 'm?"
to which she responded heartily,
"Indeed, I can fully understand your grief. They are delightful, and
singularly alike. If I were to describe each in a word, I should say
Hope is radiant, Faith lovely, and both are charming!"