disposed. She was a passive, too sanguine little creature; and being
limpid and tender as well, and more loyal than artful, she had failed
to conceal her ardent attachment and its anxious expectancy. Had she
loosed a wink of challenge from her gray eyes in another direction,
the reluctance of Dickie Blue might have been reduced with astonishing
rapidity, and she could have punished his stupidity at will, had she
been maliciously inclined. Conceiving such practices to be both cheap
and artful, however, and being, after all, of a pretty sturdy turn of
character, she rejected the advantages of deceitful behavior, as she
called it, and in consequence lived in a state of cruel uncertainty.
Worse than that, she was no longer sought; and for this, too, she was
wholly responsible. In a spirit of loyalty to Dickie Blue, who
deserved nothing so devoted, she had repelled other advances; and
when, once, in a wicked mood of pique, as she afterward determined,
she had walked with Sandy Watt on the Squid Cove road, the disloyalty
implied, mixed with fear of the consequences, made her too wretched to
repeat that lapse from a faithful and consistent conduct. She was
quite sure that Dickie Blue would be angered again if she did (he was
savagely angry)--that he would be driven away for good and all.
"You must not do it again, Peggy," Dickie Blue had admonished. "Now,
mind what I'm tellin' you!"
"I won't," the soft little Peggy promised in haste.
"Now, that's sensible," said Dickie Blue. He was in earnest. And his
purpose was high.
"Still an' all," Peggy began, "there's no harm----"
"What does a maid know about that?" Dickie interrupted. "It takes a
man t' know a man. The lad's not fit company for the likes o' you." It
was true. "You must look upon me, Peggy, as an elder brother, an' be
guided by my advice. I'll watch over you, Peggy, jus' as well as an
elder brother can."
"I'm grateful," Peggy murmured, flushed with pleasure in this
interest. "I thanks you."
"There's no call t' thank me," Dickie protested. "'Tis a pleasure t'
serve you."
"Thank you," said Peggy.
Skipper John Blue was a hearty old codger. Pretty Peggy Lacey, whose
father had been cast away in the _Sink or Swim_, long ago, on the
reefs off Thumb-an'-Finger of the Labrador, loved and used him like a
father and found him sufficient to her need. To pretty Peggy Lacey,
then, Skipper John cautiously repeated the substance of his
conversation with Dickie Blue, adding a whisper of artful advice and a
chuckle of delight in it. Peggy Lacey was appalled by the deceitful
practice disclosed by Skipper John, whose sophistication she suspected
and deplored. She had no notion at all, said she, that such evil as he
described could walk abroad and unshamed in the good world, and she
wondered what old mischief of his youth had informed him; and she
would die a maid, loveless and childless, she declared, rather than
have the guilt of a deception of such magnitude on her soul. Moreover,
where were the means to be procured for executing the enormity? There
was nothing of the sort, she was sure, in Trader Tom Jenkins's shop at
Scalawag Run. There was nothing of the sort to be had anywhere short
of St. John's; and as for sanctioning a plan so bold as sending a
letter and a post-office order to Skipper John's old friend in St.
John's, the lively widow o' the late Cap'n Saul Nash, o' the _Royal
Bloodhound_, pretty Peggy Lacey jus' pos'tively would not do no such
thing.
Skipper John found his head convenient to assist the expression of his
emotion. He scratched it.
"Well, I'm bewildered," said he, "an' I'm not able t' help you at all
no more."
"I'll have nobody's help," Peggy Lacey retorted.
"Why not, Peggy?"
"I've my pride t' serve."
"My dear," said Skipper John gravely, "you've also your happiness t'
gain."
"I'll gain it alone."
"Aw, now, Peggy," Skipper John coaxed, with a forefinger under Peggy's
little chin, "you'd take my help in this an' in all things, wouldn't
ye? You is jus' so used t' my help, maid," he added, "that you'd be
wonderful lonesome without it."
That was true.
"In most things, Father John," Peggy replied, "I'd take your help an'
be glad. Whatever an' all about that, I'll have nobody's help in the
world t' win the mastery o' Dickie Blue. Mark that, now! I means it."
"I've showed you the way t' win it."
"Tis dishonest."
"Ay, but----"
"'Tis shameful."
"Still an' all----"
"I'll not do it."
Again Skipper John scratched his head. "'Tis an old sayin'," he
protested, "that all's fair in love an' war."
"'Tis a false sayin'," Peggy declared. "Moreover," she argued, "an I
took your advice, an' done the schemin' wickedness that you said,
'twould never win Dickie Blue."
"Jus' you try it, maid!"
"I scorn t' try it! I'll practice no wiles whatsoever t' win the likes
o' Dickie Blue. An' what would I say when he discovered the deception
thereafter?"
"He'd never find out at all."
"Sure, he've eyes t' see with, haven't he?"
"Ay, but he's too stupid t' notice. An' once you're wed----"
"No, no! 'Tis a thing too awful t' plot."
"An you cared enough for the lad," said Skipper John, "you'd stop at
nothin' at all."
Peggy's great eyes clouded with tears.
"I cares more for he," said she, "than he cares for me. My heart's
jus' sore with grief."
"Ah, no, now!"
"Ay, 'tis!" Peggy sobbed. She put her dark hair against Skipper John's
shoulder then. "I'm jus' sick with the need of un!" she said.
* * * * *
Summer went her indifferent way, and Winter blustered into the past,
too, without serving the emotions of Scalawag Run; and a new Spring
was imminent--warm winds blowing out of the south, the ice breaking
from the cliffs and drifting out to sea and back again. Still pretty
Peggy Lacey was obdurately fixed in her attitude toward the sly
suggestion of Skipper John Blue. Suffer she did--that deeply; but she
sighed in secret and husbanded her patience with what stoicism she
could command. There were times, twilight falling on the world of sea
and rock beyond the kitchen window, with the last fire of the sun
failing in the west like a bright hope--there were hours when her fear
of the issue was so poignant that her decision trembled. The weather
mellowed; the temptation gathered strength and renewed itself
persistently--the temptation discreetly to accept the aid of artifice.
After all, what matter? 'Twas surely a thing o' small consequence. An'
who would ever hear the least whisper about it? For a long time Peggy
Lacey rejected the eager promptings of her love--clenched her little
red fists and called her pride to the rescue; and then, all at once,
of a yellow day, having chanced to glance out of the window and down
the harbor in the direction of Cottage Point, and having clapped eyes
on a sight that pinched and shook the very heart of her, she was
changed in a twinkling into the Siren of Scalawag Run.
Peggy Lacey sped forthwith to Skipper John, whom she found alone in
his kitchen, oiling his sealing-gun.
"Father John," she demanded, "what's all this I sees goin' on on the
tip o' Cottage Point?"
Skipper John glanced out of the wide kitchen window.
"Ah," said he, "that's on'y young Dickie at labor. He've selected
that pretty spot an' is haulin' his lumber afore the snow's gone."
"Haulin' his lumber?" Peggy gasped.
"Mm-m."
"Haulin' l-l-lumber!"
"Mm-m. I sees he've ol' Tog in harness with the rest o' the dogs.
Well, well! Tog's too old for that labor."
"Who's the maid?"
"Maid!"
"What's he haulin' lumber for?"
"I 'low he's haulin' lumber jus' for the same reason that any young
fellow would haul lumber for in the Spring o' the year."
"'Tis a new house, isn't it?"
"Ay; 'tis a new house. He've been plannin' t' build his house this
long time, as you knows very well, an' now he've gone at it in a
forehanded way."
"Well, then," Peggy insisted, finding it hard to command breath for
the question, "who's the maid?"
"No maid in particular that I knows of."
"Well, I knows!" Peggy flashed. "'Tis the new schoolmistress from
Grace Harbor. That's who 'tis!"
"Ah-ha!" said Skipper John.
"Yes, 'tis! She've cotched his fancy with her eyeglasses an' grammar.
The false, simperin', titterin' cat! Oh, poor Dickie Blue!"
"Whew!"
"She'd never do for un, Skipper John."
"No?"
"Never. They're not suited to each other at all. He'd be mis'able with
her."
Skipper John grinned.
"Poor Dickie!" he sighed.
Peggy Lacey was in tears at last.
"Father John," she sobbed, "I'm jus' desperate with fear an' grief. I
can't bear it no longer." She began to pace the floor in a tumult of
emotion. "I can't breathe," said she. "I'm stifled. My heart's like t'
burst with pain." She paused--she turned to Skipper John, swaying
where she stood, her hands pitifully reaching toward the old man, her
face gray and dull with the agony she could no longer endure; and her
eyes closed, and her head dropped, and her voice fell to a broken
whisper. "Oh, hold me!" she entreated. "I'm sick. I'll fall."
Skipper John took her in his arms.
"Ah, hush!" he crooned. "'Tis not so bad as all that. An' he's not
worth it, the great dunderhead!"
Peggy Lacey pushed Skipper John away.
"I'll not yield t' nobody!" she stormed, her soft little face gone
hard with a savage determination. Her red little lips curled and the
nostrils of her saucy little nose contemptuously expanded. "I've
neither eye-glasses nor grammar," said she, "but I'll ensnare Dickie
Blue for all that."
"I would," said Skipper John.
"I will!"
"An' without scruple!"
"Not a twinge!"
"I'd have no mercy."
"Not I!"
"An' I'd encourage no delay."
"Skipper John, do you write that letter t' St. John's this very day,"
said Peggy, her soft, slender little body magnificently drawn up to
the best of its alluring inches. She snapped, "We'll see what comes o'
that!"
"Hoosh!" Skipper John gloated.
"Waste no time, sir. 'Tis a ticklish matter."
"The answer will be shipped straight t' you, Peggy. 'Twill be here in
less 'n a fortnight." Skipper John broke into a wild guffaw of
laughter. "An' Dickie himself will fetch the trap for his own feet,
ecod!"
Peggy remained grave.
"I'm determined," she declared. "There's nothin' will stop me now.
I'll do it, no matter what."
"Well, then," said Skipper John, "I 'low 'tis all over but the
weddin'."
Skipper John privately thought, after all, that a good deal of fuss
was being made over the likes o' Dickie Blue. And I think so too.
However, the affair was Peggy Lacey's. And doubtless she knew her own
business well enough to manage it without ignorant criticism.
In the Winter weather, when the coast was locked in with ice, and
continuing until the first cruise of the mail-boat in May, to be
precise, Dickie Blue carried his Majesty's mail, once a fortnight, by
government contract, from the railroad at Bottom Harbor to Scalawag
Run and all the harbors of Whale Bay. It was inevitable, therefore,
that he should be aware of the communication addressed to Miss Peggy
Lacey of Scalawag Run; and acutely aware of it he was--the
communication and the little box that seemed to accompany it. From
Bottom Harbor to All-in-the-Way Island, he reflected occasionally upon
the singular circumstance. Who had sent a gift to Peggy Lacey from St.
John's? Could it have been Charlie Rush? Charlie Rush was in St.
John's to ship for the ice with the sealing fleet. Pausing on the
crest of Black Cliff to survey the crossing to Scalawag Run, he came
to a conclusion in relation to Peggy Lacey's letter that was not at
all flattering to his self-esteem.
The letter mystified Dickie Blue--the author of the communication; but
he had no difficulty in surmising the contents of the box to his own
satisfaction.
"'Tis a ring," he determined.
By that time the day was near spent. Dusk would fall within the hour.
Already the wide flare of light above the wilderness had failed to the
dying ashes of its fire. Prudence urged a return to the cottage at
Point-o'-Bay Cove for the night. True, it was not far from Black Cliff
across the run to the first rocks of Scalawag. It was short of a mile,
at any rate. Dickie could glimpse the lights of the Scalawag
hills--the folk were lighting the lamps in the kitchens; and he fixed
his eyes on Peggy Lacey's light, in the yellow glow of which, no
doubt, pretty Peggy was daintily busied with making a supper of no
dainty proportions; and he cocked his head and scowled in
deliberation, and he stood irresolute on the brink of the cliff,
playing with the temptation to descend and cross, as though a whiff
from Peggy Lacey's kitchen stove had invited and challenged him over.
It was not so much the visionary whiff of Peggy Lacey's supper,
however, that challenged his courage: it was Peggy Lacey's letter in
the pack on his back, and Peggy Lacey's suggestive packet, that
tantalized him to reckless behavior. Ah-ha, he'd show Peggy Lacey what
it was to carry the mail in a way that a man should carry it! He'd put
the love-letter an' the ring in her hand forthwith. His Majesty's mail
would go through that night.
"Ha!" he gloated. "I'll further her courtship. An' that'll settle her,
ecod! I'll show her once an' for all that 'tis no matter t' me whom
she weds."
There were stout reasons, however, against attempting to cross the run
that night. The lane was filled from shore to shore with fragments of
ice. Moreover, fog was blowing in from the east in the wake of the
departing day, and rain threatened--a cold drizzle. All this being
patent, the rain and peril of the passage in contrast with the dry,
lighted kitchens of Point-o'-Bay Cove, Dickie Blue crossed Scalawag
Run that night notwithstanding; and the mere circumstance of the
crossing, where was no haste that he knew of, indicated at least the
perturbation of his emotions. Well, Peggy Lacey might wed whom she
pleased, an' he'd further her schemes, too, at the risk of his life.
She should have her letter at once--her ring without delay; an' as for
Dickie Blue, 'twas a closed book of romance--there were other maids at
Scalawag Run, fairer maids, more intellectual maids, an' he'd love one
o' them soon enough.
When Dickie Blue entered, Skipper John looked up, amazed.
"Did ye cross the run this night?" said he.
"I'll leave you, sir," Dickie answered curtly, "t' solve that deep
riddle for yourself. You'll not be needing my help."
Skipper John reflected.
"Was there a letter for Peggy Lacey?" said he. "She've been eager for
a message from St. John's."
"There was."
"Nothin' else, I 'low?"
"There was. There was a packet."
"Whew!" Skipper John ejaculated. "That's a pity. I been fearin' an
outcome o' that sort. An I was you, Dick," he advised, "I'd lose no
time in that direction."
"'Tis not my purpose to."
"Ye'll wed the maid?"
"I will not."
"Ye obstinate dunderhead!" Skipper John scolded. "I believes ye! Dang
if I don't! Go to! Shift them wet clothes, sir, an' come t' supper. I
hopes a shrew hooks ye. Dang if I don't!"
* * * * *
In gloomy perturbation, in ill humor with the daft dealings of the
world he lived in, Dickie Blue left the soggy road and sad drizzle of
the night for the warm, yellow light of Peggy Lacey's kitchen, where
pretty Peggy, alone in the housewifely operation, was stowing the
clean dishes away. Yet his course was shaped--his reflections were
determined; and whatever Peggy Lacey might think to the contrary, as
he was no better, after all, than a great, blundering, obstinate young
male creature, swayed by vanity and pique, and captive of both in that
crisis, Peggy Lacey's happiness was in a desperate situation. It was
farther away at the moment of Dickie Blue's sullen entrance than ever
it had been since first she flushed and shone with the vision of its
glorious approach.
Ay--thought the perverse Dickie Blue when he clapped eyes on the fresh
gingham in which Peggy Lacey was fluttering over the kitchen floor (he
would not deign to look in her gray eyes), the maid might have her
letter an' her ring an' wed whom she pleased; an' as for tears at the
weddin', they'd not fall from the eyes o' Dickie Blue, who would by
that time, ecod, perhaps have consummated an affair with a maid of
consequence from Grace Harbor! Ha! There were indeed others! The
charms of the intellect were not negligible. They were to be taken
into account in the estimate. And Dickie Blue would consider the maid
from Grace Harbor.
"She've dignity," thought he, "an' she've learn-in'. Moreover, she've
high connections in St. John's an' a wonderful complexion."
Dickie meant it. Ay. And many a man, and many a poor maid, too, as
everybody knows, has cast happiness to waste in a mood of that mad
description. And so a tragedy impended.
"Is it you, Dick?" says Peggy Lacey.
Dickie nodded and scowled.
"'Tis I. Was you lookin' for somebody else t' call?"
"No, Dickie."
It was almost an interrogation. Peggy Lacey was puzzled. Dickie Blue's
gloomy concern was out of the way.
"Well," said Dicky, "I'm sorry."
"An' why?"
"Well," Dickie declared, "if you was expectin' anybody else t' come t'
see you, I'd be glad t' have un do so. 'Tis a dismal evenin' for you
t' spend alone."
Almost, then, Peggy Lacey's resolution failed her. Almost she
protested that she would have a welcome for no other man in the world.
Instead she turned arch.
"Did you bring the mail?" she inquired.
"I did."
"Was there nothin' for me?"
"There was."
"A letter!"
"Ay."
Peggy Lacey trembled. Confronting, thus intimately, the enormity she
proposed, she was shocked. She concealed her agitation, however, and
laid strong hands upon her wicked resolution to restrain its flight.
"Nothin' else?" said she.
"Ay; there was more."
"Not a small packet!"
"Ay; there was a small packet. I 'low you been expectin' some such
gift as that, isn't you?"
"A gift! Is it from St. John's?"
"Ay."
"Then I been expectin' it," Peggy eagerly admitted. "Where is it,
Dickie? I'm in haste to pry into that packet."
The letter and the package were handed over.
"'Tis not hard," said Dickie, "t' guess the contents of a wee box
like that. I could surmise them myself."
Peggy started.
"Wh-wh-what!" she ejaculated. "You know the contents! Oh, dear me!"
"No, I don't know the contents. I could guess them, though, an I had a
mind to."
"You never could guess. 'Tis not in the mind of a man t' fathom such a
thing as that. There's a woman's secret in this wee box."
"'Tis a ring."
"A ring!" Peggy challenged. "You'd not care, Dickie Blue, an 'twas a
ring t' betroth me!"
Dickie Blue was sure that his surmise had gone cunningly to its mark.
Pride flashed to the rescue of his self-esteem. His face flared. He
rose in wrath.
"Betrothed, is you?" he flung out. "I'll weather it, maid! Ha! I'll
weather it!"
"Weather it!" cried poor Peggy, in a flame of indignation.
"I'm not hurt!"
"Sit you down!"
"I'll not sit down. I'm goin'."
"Sit you down, oaf that you is!" Peggy Lacey commanded. "I'll read my
letter an' open my packet an' return. Don't ye budge! Don't ye dare!"
Peggy Lacey swept out of the kitchen. Her head was high. There was no
compassion in her heart. Nor was she restrained by any lingering fear
of the consequences of that wicked deceit to the immediate practice of
which she had committed herself. And as for Dickie Blue, he sat
stock-still where she had bade him remain, his eyes wide with the
surprise of the domination. He did not budge. He did not dare.
* * * * *
Precisely what Peggy Lacey did in the seclusion of her chamber it
would be indelicate to disclose. Moreover, I am not minutely aware of
all the intricacies of the employment of those mysterious means by
which she accomplished the charming effect that she did in some
intuitive way presently accomplish; and at any rate I decline the task
of description. I confess, however, that the little packet contained a
modest modicum of the necessary materials, whatever they were; and I
have no hesitation in praising the generous interest, the discretion
and exuberant experience of the gay widow of the late Cap'n Saul Nash
o' the _Royal Bloodhound_, whose letter, dealing with the most
satisfactory methods of application, as related to the materials
aforesaid, whatever they were, and whose wisdom included a happy
warning or two--I have no hesitation in admitting that the letter was
completely sufficient to enlighten the ignorance of pretty Peggy
Lacey, and to steel her resolution and to guide her unreluctant hand
in its deceitful work. When at last she stood back from the mirror to
survey and appraise the result, she dimpled with delight. It was
ravishing, no doubt about that! It supplied the only lack of which the
disclosure of sly old Skipper John had informed her. And she tossed
her dark head in a proper saucy fashion, and she touched a strand of
hair to deliberate disarray, and smoothed her apron; and then she
tripped into the kitchen to exercise the wiles of the little siren
that she had become.
"I've cast my everlastin' soul into the balance," poor Peggy accused
herself, "an' I don't care a whit!"
All this while Dickie Blue had occupied himself with more reasonable
reflection than he was accustomed to entertain. Doubt alarmed him.
Betrothed, was she? Well, she might be betrothed an she wanted to! Who
cared? Still an' all--well, she was young t' be wed, wasn't she? An'
she had no discretion in choice. Poor wee thing, she had given herself
t' some wastrel, no doubt! Charlie Rush! Ecod! Huh! 'Twas a poor match
for a dear maid like she t' make. An' Dickie Blue would miss her sadly
when she was wed away from his care an' affection. Affection? Ay; he
was wonderful fond o' the pallid wee thing. 'Twas a pity she had no
color--no blushes t' match an' assist the roguish loveliness o' the
big eyes that was forever near trappin' the heart of a man. Dang it,
she was fair anyhow! What was rosy cheeks, after all. They faded like
roses. Ah, she was a wonderful dear wee thing! 'Twas a melancholy
pity that she was t' be wed so young. Not yet seventeen! Mm-m--'twas
far too young. Dang it, Charlie Rush would be home afore long with the
means in his pocket for a weddin'! Dang it, they'd be wed when he
come! An' then pretty Peggy Lacey would no longer be----
When Peggy Lacey tripped into the kitchen, Dickie Blue was melancholy
with the fear that she was more dear than he had known.
"Peggy!" he gasped.
Then he succumbed utterly. She was radiant. Roses? They bloomed in her
round cheeks! Dear Lord, what full-blown flowers they were! Dickie
Blue went daft with love of Peggy Lacey. No caution now! A flame of
love and devotion! Splendor clothed the boy.
"What ails you?" said Peggy defiantly. "You is starin' at me most
rudely."
Dickie Blue's mounting love thrilled and troubled him with a
protective concern.
"You isn't ill, is you?" he demanded.
"Ill!" she scoffed. "I never felt better in all my life. An' why d'ye
ask me that?"
"You're flushed."
"I'm sorry," she replied demurely, "that you've a distaste for the
color in my cheeks. I wish I might be able t' rub it off t' suit ye."
He smiled.
"I never seed ye so rosy afore," said he. "You're jus' bloomin' like a
flower, Peggy."
"Ah, well," the mendacious little creature replied, with an
indifferent shrug of her soft shoulders, "mostly I'm not rosy at all,
but there's days when I is. I'm sorry you're offended by rosy cheeks
like mine. I'll try not t' have it happen again when you're about."
"I'm not offended, Peggy."
There was that in Dickie Blue's voice to make Peggy Lacey's heart
flutter.
"No?" says she.
"Far from it."
"I--I'm s'prised!"
"You--you is jus' beautiful the night, Peggy!"
"The night?"
"An' always was an' always will be!"
"I can't believe ye think it."
Dickie Blue went close to Peggy then. "Peggy," said he, "was there a
ring in the wee box I fetched you the night?"
"No, sir."
"Is you betrothed, Peggy?"
Peggy dropped her head to hide the tears. She was more afraid than
ever. Yet she must listen, she knew, and reply with courage and truth.
"I--I'm not," she faltered.
"God be thanked!" said Dickie Blue. "Ah, Peggy, Peggy," he whispered,
"I loves you!"
"You mustn't say it, Dickie!"
"I can't help myself."
All at once Peggy Lacey's conscience submerged her spirit in a flood
of reproaches. There was no maid more false in all the world, she
knew, than her own wicked self.
"Dickie," she began, "I--I----"
"Has you no word o' love for me, Peggy? I--I jus' crave it, Peggy,
with all my heart. Yes, I do!"
"Stay jus' where you is!" Peggy sobbed. "Don't you budge a inch,
Dickie! I'll be back in a minute."