OUT TO SEA
The little party was very quiet during the ride, which took two hours.
The older members were occupied with their own thoughts, very serious
ones, and the young pair engrossed in looking out of the window.
Rolling rocky land; woods where sombre and stately pines and firs made a
fitting background for the graceful slender white trunks of the birch
trees; miles of ferns close to the tracks; tiny stations; glimpses,
between the trees, of rustic dwellings and a few more pretentious summer
homes; flashes of wild flowers; rivers, down whose red mud banks still
trickled threads of water, although the tide was out; grey farm
buildings; all flowed rapidly past. Then—Yarmouth!
“Stay right here,” directed Jack, after they had alighted from the train,
leading the way to a pile of crates on the platform, “until I check our
baggage. I thought we’d keep only the night bag, and pick up the rest
after we get the wagon.”
Before the children had tired of watching the passers-by, he was back
again, and they walked slowly toward the centre of the city, not pausing
until they reached the tiny park facing the wharf.
“You and the children had better sit here while I go to find out the
location of the street where Simon’s daughter lives.”
“Is that the _Grand Hotel_, where André brought Marie after the wedding?”
asked Priscilla, looking up in admiration at the big building across the
street.
“Yes,” replied Jack.
“Just think!” cried the child ecstatically, giving a little skip, “I’m
really looking at the place I’ve heard of so many times.”
“Well, your education has begun,” said Jack. “See that you make the most
of all your opportunities.”
“What a very funny place,” observed Priscilla, looking around her.
“It is a park—” began Desiré.
“But look at those,” interrupted the younger girl, pointing to several
graves.
“It must have been used as a cemetery first,” replied her sister, walking
over to read the inscription on a nearby stone, and closely followed by
Priscilla. That moment or two gave René the chance for which he had
longed, and he was off down the road and onto the wharf. Desiré turned to
look for him just in time to see a little blue-clad figure dart across
the gang plank of the Boston steamer.
“René!” she called in desperation, racing toward the dock.
The tug which helped the steamer pull away from her slip was already out
in the harbor; bells were ringing, the whistle was blowing, dock hands
were running about. Across the gang plank ran Desiré and Priscilla just
before it was withdrawn, and the ropes were cast off. As they looked
helplessly among the crowds of people and piles of luggage for the
truant, the tug was steadily pulling on the long tow line, and heading
the steamer out to sea.
“My—little—brother,” gasped Desiré to an officer.
“What about him?” demanded the busy man curtly.
His brisk manner was just enough, in her distressed state of mind, to
reduce the girl immediately to tears.
“He got away from us and is on this boat. That’s what’s about him,” said
Priscilla, coming at once to her sister’s aid. “Don’t mind, Dissy; we’ll
find him.”
An interested spectator of the scene, a tall, energetic type of woman,
now joined the group.
“Let me help you look for him, my dear,” she said briskly, putting a hand
on Desiré’s shoulder. “No need to worry; he’s certainly safe.”
“But,” choked the girl, now fully conscious that the boat was moving, “we
can’t go on. My big brother is waiting for us in Yarmouth! What—what will
he think? What will he _do_?” She wrung her hands distractedly.
“You could go back on the tug, if the boy’s found before she leaves us,”
suggested the officer, coming to the rescue as soon as he fully
understood the situation.
“There he is!” shrieked Priscilla, darting to the side of the boat where
René was climbing up on a suitcase to look over the railing at the water.
Grasping him firmly by the tail of his jacket, she dragged him backward
across the salon, and brought him to a violent sitting posture at
Desiré’s feet.
Meanwhile the officer had ordered the tug to be signalled, and she now
came alongside. No time for anything but hurried thanks to their
benefactors as the girls and René were helped over the side and onto the
tug. Noisily, fussily, she steamed away from the big boat, over whose
rails hung the interested passengers, and headed to Yarmouth.
“What ever made you do such a naughty thing, René?” asked Desiré, who had
recovered her outward composure.
“Wanted to see big boat,” replied the child, not at all impressed by the
gravity of his offense. Useless to say more now.
“The young feller needs a good whaling,” growled the pilot of the tug, as
he brought his boat alongside the wharf.
“There’s Jack!” cried Desiré, in great relief, catching sight of him
striding rapidly along the street above the docks. “Jump out, quickly,
Prissy! Run up and tell him we’re all right.”
The child sprang to the dock and ran up the incline at top speed, while
Desiré lingered to thank the pilot.
“Glad to do it, ma’moiselle. Better keep hold of him hereafter, though.”
“I shall,” she promised, with a reproachful look at René.
The reunited family met in the little park, and sat down on one of the
benches to readjust themselves.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” said Desiré, putting her hand in Jack’s. “You must
have been frantic.”
“I couldn’t believe my eyes when I came back and found that you had all
disappeared. An old dock hand who saw me looking around said he’d seen a
boy, followed by two girls, go aboard the ‘Yarmouth.’ So, knowing René, I
came to a close solution of the mystery. I was just going up to the
steamship office to see what could be done when Prissy grabbed me from
behind.
“René,” he went on, placing the child directly in front of him so he
could look into his eyes, “you have been a _very_ bad boy; and only the
fact that we are out here in a public place prevents me from putting you
right across my knee, and giving you something to make you remember your
naughtiness. There is to be _no_ more running away. Do you understand
me?”
The little boy, wiggling slightly as if he already felt the punishment,
nodded gravely, impressed by his brother’s stern face and voice.
“What did you find out, Jack?” asked Desiré, when he had released René.
“They told me,” he began, turning toward her, “that Simon lives on a
street not so very far from here. I thought if you’re ready, we might
walk down there; and perhaps he’d be able to tell us where we could spend
the night.”
“Aren’t we going to the hotel?” inquired Priscilla, her face clouding.
“No; we haven’t enough money to stay there,” answered Jack, starting
ahead with René.
The little girl pouted, and shed a few quiet tears to which Desiré wisely
paid no attention. Slowly they strolled along the main street, pausing to
look in the window of a stationer’s where the books and English magazines
attracted Desiré’s eye; stopping to gaze admiringly at the jewelry,
china, pictures, and souvenirs attractively displayed in another shop.
“Just see the lovely purple stones!” cried Priscilla, who had recovered
her good humor.
“Those are amethysts,” explained Jack. “They come from Cape Blomidon,”
adding to Desiré, “I heard that another vein split open this year.”
“Isn’t it strange that the intense cold nearly every winter brings more
of the beautiful jewels to light?” commented the girl.
“A kind of rough treatment which results in profit and beauty,” mused
Jack.
“Yes; and, Jack, maybe it will be like that with us. Things are hard now,
but perhaps soon we’ll find—”
“Some am’thysts?” asked René excitedly.
“Perhaps,” replied Jack, giving Desiré one of his rare sweet smiles.
The stores had been left behind now, and on every hand were green
tree-shaded lawns enclosed by carefully trimmed hedges of English
hawthorne in full bloom. Desiré exclaimed with rapture over their beauty,
and the size and style of the houses beyond them. On a little side street
they paused before a small cottage, half hidden in vines.
“This must be the place,” decided Jack, opening the white gate which
squeaked loudly as if protesting against the entrance of strangers. The
sound brought a woman to the door.
“I’m looking for Simon Denard,” began Jack.
“You’ve come to the right place to find him,” she replied, smiling, as
she came toward them and put out one hand to pat René’s head. “Simon
Denard is my father. I’m Mrs. Chaisson. Come right in.”
In the small living room to which she led them sat old Simon, propped up
with pillows in a big chair.
“So here ye are,” was his greeting, as the children dashed across the
floor to his side.
“Be careful,” warned Desiré quickly. “You might hurt Simon.”
“Let ’em be! Let ’em be!” protested the old man, beaming upon his
visitors. “What’s an extra stab of pain, or two?”
“Father has told me about you people so often that I feel as if I knew
you,” Mrs. Chaisson was saying to Jack, after he introduced Desiré and
the children; “so I want you to stay here as long as you’re in town; that
is, if you haven’t made other plans.”
The expression on her kindly face indicated clearly that she hoped they
hadn’t.
“But there are so many of us,” objected the boy.
“It’s perfectly all right, if you don’t mind kind of camping out a bit.”
“That’s what we expect to do all summer,” said Desiré; “and we’ll surely
be glad of any arrangements you make for us, as long as we don’t put you
about too much. You are very kind indeed.”
“Then it’s all settled,” said their hostess briskly; “I’ll get supper
right away; for you must be hungry.”
The cottage boasted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, and two small
bedrooms; so stowing away four extra people was something of an
achievement. Immediately after they had finished the simple but delicious
meal that Mrs. Chaisson prepared, Desiré shyly offered to help her
hostess in preparation for the night.
“Thank you, my dear; if you will clear up the supper table and do the
dishes while I hunt up some bedding, it will be very nice.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself about me,” said Jack, detaining Mrs.
Chaisson on one of her many trips through the room; “I can sleep on the
porch, or anywhere.”
“I’ll fix some place for you,” she replied, putting her hand on his
shoulder. “Just go on with your business arrangements.” He and Simon had
been discussing the route, customers, stock, and other details.
Like so many childless women, Mrs. Chaisson had a passion for children;
and the thoughts of this little family starting out so bravely in search
of a living moved her strongly.
“How I wish I could adopt them all,” she thought as she hurried on. “If
only we had a little more money; but then, there’s Father, too, now; it
couldn’t be done, even with the help of that fine big boy. I don’t wonder
that his sister almost worships him.”
Nine o’clock saw them all settled for a good sleep. Old Simon in his own
room, Mrs. Chaisson sharing hers with Priscilla, Desiré on the couch in
the living room, and Jack and René in hammocks on the screened porch. It
had been decided before they slept that as soon as breakfast was over,
they would start out upon the great adventure.
“There is no use in hanging around here,” Jack had said to Desiré in
their goodnight talk on the front steps.
“Wouldn’t it seem rather odd, or ungrateful, to hurry away so soon?”
suggested the girl. “Mrs. Chaisson has been so very good to us.”
“I know that,” replied Jack quickly; “and for that very reason, we can’t
take advantage of her. Then too, the longer we stay, the harder it will
be for both sides when we do go.”
The boy had immediately sensed the good woman’s distress over their
undertaking, and felt that the kindest act would be their immediate
departure.
“Of course I realize,” he went on, “that it’s nice for you to have a
little rest, and a woman’s companionship; but—”
“Don’t worry over me, Jack dear,” replied his sister, slipping her hand
into his. “Whatever you decide is all right. So we’ll all be ready early
in the morning.”
“You’re a good little soul,” answered Jack, with an affectionate
goodnight kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Completely happy at his words of commendation, Desiré entered the house;
and soon everyone was fast asleep. Shortly after midnight, she was
suddenly awakened by the sound of a screen door closing, and steps
crossing the porch.