A FIND
“Sorry?” asked Desiré, looking up from the lettuce she was preparing for
their supper.
“It has been pleasant,” replied her brother, selecting a radish from a
dish on the table, and beginning to eat it. “George, the driver, is a
nice fellow, and we’ve had some fun together; but it’s a kind of a lazy
life, after all. Of course somebody has to do it, but I think I prefer
more activity.”
“Have you seen Jim yet about the baked goods?”
Jack’s hours had been so arranged that he had been unable to stop at the
Rutland General Store.
“Ran across him this noon. He’s tickled to death over your ideas, and
says he’ll take everything you can make, starting Thursday.”
Desiré was delighted.
“You’ll just have to get rid of that horrid dog,” declared Priscilla,
coming in at that moment, about ready to cry.
“Why, what’s he done now?” asked Jack.
“He went and dug up all my nasturtiums. He’s always digging somewhere.
He’s a perfect pest!”
“I’ll look after him,” said her brother, going out to the garden.
He punished Rover, and, leaving Priscilla replanting the remnants of her
flowers, returned to Desiré.
“I wouldn’t say it before the children,” said Desiré, when Jack reported
the condition of Priscilla’s garden, “but Rover _has_ a most unfortunate
passion for digging; and, as if he knew that Priscilla disapproved of
him, he usually selects some part of her garden. I’ve whipped him two or
three times, but back he goes the next time the fancy strikes him.”
Jack laughed. “I can imagine the kind of beatings you give him. But,” he
added anxiously, “had you rather get rid of him?”
“Oh, no; he’s such a lovable animal that you can’t help being attached to
him in spite of his faults; and then, too, René thinks the world of him.
It wouldn’t be fair to take away his pet.”
The following morning, just as the big bus reached the lane, one of the
tires exploded with a loud report; and Jack had to help the driver make
repairs. The other Wistmores stood in the shade of the trees, watching;
even Desiré could not resist the opportunity to see what had to be done.
There were a few passengers already on board, and two or three of them
got out to stroll up and down the road.
“What a darling house!” exclaimed one young lady, peering down the lane.
“Come here, Dad; see!”
The grey-haired man looked in the direction of her pointing finger, then
at the little group under the trees.
“You live here?” he asked.
“Oh, do you?” said the lady, before Desiré had hardly finished her
affirmative reply; “then may we look at the house?”
“Certainly,” replied the girl politely, although she was far from willing
to show it.
The man and woman examined the cabin both inside and out, with keen
interest; even the garden was included in the inspection. Occasionally
they talked together in such low tones that Desiré could not distinguish
what they were saying. She felt a queer sinking dread as she followed
them around. The children had stayed near the bus, and it seemed as if
she were abandoned to these odd tourists.
On the stone doorstep the man turned back, after they had gone over the
place for the second time.
“Do you own this?” he asked.
“No, sir.”
“Who does?” demanded the woman.
“It doesn’t belong to anybody, really,” confessed poor Desiré
reluctantly. “It’s something about a title. We just live here.”
“Oh, Dad, buy it for me. I must have it!” exclaimed the young woman.
“I’ll make inquiries, and—” the man was saying, when a loud blast from
the horn summoned them to the bus. They hurried down the lane with a
careless goodbye to the girl in the doorway.
“Oh, Dissy,” called Priscilla, running toward her, closely followed by
René and Rover. “Why—what’s the matter?” as she noticed her sister’s pale
face and unnatural manner.
“Just tired,” Desiré managed to reply, though such a storm of emotion
surged within her that she felt almost overcome by it.
“Go and lie down, and I’ll do the dishes and clean up,” offered
Priscilla. “René, take the dog out to the garden and stay there until I
call you,” she added importantly. “Dissy’s going to take a nap.”
“Thank you, Priscilla dear,” replied the girl gratefully. “I think I
shall lie down. Call me at eleven o’clock. I shan’t need anything until
then.”
Desiré kissed her little sister, escaped into her room as quickly as
possible, and closed the door. In the privacy and quiet which she felt
she must have at all costs, she gave way to tears. What would they do
now? For these rich people could get anything they set their hearts on.
Jack was right in warning her not to get too fond of the place. She
thought she hadn’t, but now when it was slipping slowly but surely from
their grasp—Oh! and Desiré hid her face in the pillow to drown her sobs.
Presently she forced herself to grow calmer, and when Priscilla quietly
put her head in at eleven o’clock Desiré, pale, but outwardly composed,
was bathing her face.
“It was sweet of you to take care of things, Prissy dear,” she said.
“I’ll get dinner now; I’m quite all right. You run out-of-doors until
it’s ready.”
After a searching look at her sister, the child obeyed; but all the
afternoon she kept making excuses to come to the front yard, where Desiré
sat sewing, to see if she was all right. While her sister was getting
supper, Priscilla walked down the lane to meet Jack.
“I’m afraid there’s something awful the matter with Dissy, Jack,” began
the child, slipping her hand into his. “She’s not really sick—I don’t
think—but she’s not a bit like _her_.”
“Well,” replied Jack quietly, for he had heard bits of conversation on
the bus that day, and they gave him an advance inkling of Desiré’s
trouble, “don’t say anything to her, or let her know that you notice
anything. I’ll talk to her tonight.”
“I didn’t, Jack. I just helped all I could, and stayed where she could
call me.”
“That’s a good girl; you’re getting to be a great help to us,” tightening
his grasp on her brown, plump little hand.
Fortunately René had a silly fit at the table, and kept them all laughing
in spite of themselves; so the meal passed off without any constraint or
self-consciousness. After the children were in bed, and the cabin in
order for the night, Jack drew Desiré out on the doorstep, and, sitting
down, beside her, put his arm around her.
“Now tell me all about it,” he suggested gently.
“About what, Jack?”
“Whatever’s troubling you. It’s not fair to keep me in the dark, you
know.”
Dropping her head on his broad shoulder, she related, in disjointed
sentences, the history of the morning.
“I guessed as much,” he commented, as she finished. “I overheard their
conversation on the bus.”
“Can’t they take it, if they don’t mind not having—having—”
“A clear title? I don’t know, dear; I’ll see what I can find out from the
judge tomorrow. I should say, though, that we must not expect to keep it.
We talked of that possibility; don’t you remember?”
“Yes; but—such a thing seemed so—so very improbable,” faltered Desiré.
“The place had been deserted for so long.”
“If we have to give it up we can probably find something in town. There’s
an old place near Judge Herbine’s, and another one on the road to the
Basin. Don’t take it so to heart, Dissy; we’ll find a place somewhere,
even if we have to leave this; and we may not. It’s not like you to look
on the dark side of things.”
Cheered by Jack’s words and manner, Desiré began to feel that she had
been foolish to let herself become so disturbed, and she made a heroic
effort to resume her natural manner. She succeeded so well that by
bedtime they were laughing over the discovery of Rover’s latest escapade,
a hole dug beside the step on which they were sitting. Jack set his foot
in it as they rose to go in, thereby nearly upsetting himself and Desiré
as well.
“Oh, by the way, Dissy,” remarked Jack after they had gone into the
house, “I almost forgot to tell you something. You’ll never guess whom I
saw today.”
“Then tell me right away.”
“My old enemy.”
“Oh, Jack!” cried Desiré fearfully. “Where?”
“On the bus. He was on his way to work in the orchards around Annapolis.
He was rather friendly, for him, and just as he was leaving the bus, he
thrust these into my hand and told me to give them to you.”
Desiré peered curiously at the round, brown things which her brother
pulled out of his pocket.
“What are they?”
“Some kind of bulbs. You’d better plant them tomorrow.”
“What’s the use if we’re going to lose the place?” she queried, rather
bitterly.
Jack looked at her reprovingly. “That doesn’t sound a bit like my
cheerful partner.”
“You’re right, Jack. I’m sorry. I’ll plant them tomorrow, and if we don’t
see them bloom, perhaps they will give pleasure to someone else.”
The next morning she selected a lightly shaded spot where the soil looked
rich and promising, and began to dig. Before long, her spade struck a
large stone.
“Wonder if I can get that out?” she thought. “This is the best place in
the yard for unknown plants; for they’ll get a mixture of sun and shade.”
Vigorously she attacked the stone, and after much exertion succeeded in
getting it out. Rolling it carelessly to one side, she was busily trying
to smooth out the ragged, uneven earth with the spade, when there was a
sound of metal striking on metal.
“Jack,” she called to her brother, who was in the house reenforcing a
shelf.
“What’s wanted?” he responded, sticking his head out of the window.
“Come here, quick!”
Throwing his long legs over the sill, he dropped onto the ground and was
at her side in a moment. “What’s the matter,” he asked; “snake?”
“Something’s down there,” pointing to the hole.
Jack seized the spade and quickly uncovered an iron box. Desiré was
trembling violently, and could only gaze silently at the strange object.
“What have you got?” demanded René, appearing at that moment from the
front yard. “Prissy!” he shrieked, without waiting for an answer, “come
’n’ see!”
Priscilla appeared, viewed the find calmly, and proposed taking it into
the house to see what it contained.
“Do you think we had better take it over to the judge’s?” asked Desiré,
finally finding her voice. “Perhaps we should not open it by ourselves.”
“I’ll go right after him,” declared Jack. “Just put some papers on the
table so I can carry the box in and set it down before I go.”