EXCITEMENT
Mrs. Stratford was interested in Martine's account of her interview with
Balfour Airton.
"I should certainly like to see him, and if he's as you describe him,
and I am sure he is, I should be glad to welcome him as a long lost
cousin. From what Mrs. Redmond has said, I'm sure that he contributed a
great deal to your pleasure last summer."
Several days passed and Balfour did not appear. At last Mrs. Stratford
sent a note to the headquarters of the trolley line addressed to Balfour
and inviting him to tea. On the appointed evening he made his appearance
at Red Knoll.
"It is not often," he said, "that I can get enough time off to accept an
invitation of this kind; but I can tell you that it's very delightful to
be among friends. That's the worst of going so far from home. You're
among strangers and nobody cares especially for you."
Although Martine and her mother were both somewhat curious as to what
had brought Balfour to this corner of the world, for the moment they
asked no questions. Martine inquired about Eunice.
"Of course she writes regularly to Priscilla," she said, "and Priscilla
keeps me informed about Annapolis happenings. Do you think your sister
will go to college?"
Balfour shook his head.
"I am not sure; I am not even sure that Eunice knows her own mind; but
if she does wish to go to college, some one will certainly find a way
for her to carry out her wishes."
Martine, looking at him, felt that Balfour was likely to be that "some
one."
"I ought to say," added Balfour, turning to Mrs. Stratford, "that the
money so kindly sent Eunice last autumn did an immense amount of good.
It was the first money of her own that she had ever had to handle, and I
may add," he concluded smiling, "that she has at least half of it still
stored away for a rainy day."
At last Martine could not control her curiosity.
"How did you happen to think of coming up here?" she asked.
"Oh, some of my friends had had opportunities as extra men on the New
England trolley lines, and I decided that I could spend my time more
profitably here than on the vehicle I drove last summer.
"That wasn't such a bad vehicle," interposed Martine. "If you hadn't
been driving it, I might still be lost in the fog."
During this conversation the three had gone outside to sit. And now in
the darkness they heard a voice inquiring anxiously, "Is this Red
Knoll?"
"It's Mr. Gamut," exclaimed Martine, and rushing forward, was soon
greeting the old gentleman.
"I've only just come back," he cried volubly after he had joined the
group. "You must have thought it strange that I disappeared so
completely; but I was called away on business, and my niece has been
visiting friends on the South Shore. Now tell me about your father; what
do you hear? Good news, I hope."
Martine said nothing.
"What we hear is indefinite," said Mrs. Stratford.
"Oh, well, 'no news is good news' and you must expect the best. Young
people who have no care don't realize the ups and downs of life; they
expect things to move along in an upward line. You, young man," he
continued, "expect life to continue to be one continual round of
pleasure; you bathe, play golf, drive, have evening excursions, and it's
all right for the summer; but after a while you will have a hard hill to
climb, and that is right too; it's part of life; only you mustn't let
the summer spoil you."
"Oh, but Mr. Gamut," began Martine.
"Yes, I know," said Mr. Gamut, turning to Balfour, "you think perhaps
there needn't be a hill for every one."
"I think I know what Miss Stratford meant to say; she meant to tell you
that I am not a pleasure seeker, but a worker. I am simply a conductor
on the trolley line."
"Bless my soul!" exclaimed the old gentleman, and though the light was
too dim for him really to see, Balfour realized that Mr. Gamut had
raised his glasses and had fixed his eyes upon him.
"A conductor!" he exclaimed; "how extraordinary! do you really think it
will lead to something? That's what a young man should always ask
himself."
"It will lead to my having more money at the end of the season than I
had before," responded Balfour.
"Yes, yes; but it's very unusual." Before Mr. Gamut could complete his
sentence, a loud scream from the direction of the kitchen fell on the
ears of the four.
"I wish Angelina were not so excitable," said Mrs. Stratford. "It takes
so little to make her scream; probably she has seen a mouse."
When the scream rang out a second time, Balfour started to his feet and
in another instant was racing to the gate in pursuit of a flying figure;
an instant later, the others had reached Angelina.
"It was a burglar," she cried. "He was opening the trunks in the ell
room, and when I came through with the safety lamp in my hand I saw him
plainly, and he started and ran, leaving his booty on the floor," she
concluded dramatically.
"But those were empty trunks," cried Martine, climbing the stairs.
"Come and see," said Angelina, leading the way upstairs, where indeed
the floor was strewn with clothing. Martine picked up a delicate muslin
skirt.
"This isn't mine, mamma," she said. "The man must have had a bundle with
him that he dropped here; these things are not mine; it all seems very
queer."
"Yes," said Angelina, "especially as the burglar is an old acquaintance
of mine."
Thoughts of collusion crossed Mrs. Stratford's mind while Angelina
continued:
"It was years and years ago, and I'd know him anywhere; especially
because I've seen his twin brother since, and he looks just like him,
though this wasn't the twin. He's an honest man and he lives in Salem."
"Let us get out into the fresh air again," said Mrs. Stratford. "I feel
faint."
"Angelina's story makes me feel fainter," added Martine.
"I hope that interesting young conductor hasn't been hurt by the
burglar; if he should catch him, I wonder if he'd know what to do with
him."
"We can only wait."
Their time of waiting was not long. Balfour came back rather
crestfallen.
"He gave me a great run," said Balfour, "and I couldn't catch up with
him. But I'm sure he won't trouble you again, and on my way home I'll
telephone so that the authorities here and in Portsmouth can be on the
lookout for him. Do you suppose he took anything of yours?"
"I hardly think so," replied Martine, "he seems to have left something
behind him."
"Oh, he's nothing but a sneak thief," continued Angelina. "I know him."
"A friend of yours?" asked Balfour in surprise.
"Oh, Angelina was just going to tell us about him," said Mrs. Stratford,
trying to repress certain suspicions regarding Angelina that had come to
her since the girl had said that she knew the intruder.
"It was this way," continued Angelina, pleased, as usual, to be the
centre of interest. "It was my mother he took the money from a long time
ago, when she lived at the North End. It was the money that was to take
us to the country, that Miss Brenda and her Club had made at a bazaar;
and he went off to some far country, and now he's come back, I suppose
he'll go on stealing. Miss Brenda had to make up the money out of her
own allowance, because she had been careless in giving the money too
soon to my mother. So if you had caught this thief, Mister--" here
Angelina hesitated, not knowing Balfour's name,--"we might have
recovered what he took."
"I'm sorry that I did not," replied the young man, "but I'll do my best
to help some one else catch him."
A little later Mr. Gamut and Balfour walked off together, and the Red
Knoll household, left to itself, talked over the exciting evening. Mr.
Gamut and Balfour had both offered to stay, or even to sit up all night
if Mrs. Stratford or the girls felt timid. But at last all agreed that
the intruder had been so effectually put to flight that there was no
danger of his returning.
That night Martine's dreams were filled with visions of a burglar
chasing Balfour, with Mr. Gamut in a white muslin skirt following
closely in pursuit. They were all late for breakfast, and were still at
the table when the grocer brought the mail. There was but one letter for
Martine, and she read it eagerly.
"What do you think?" she asked, when she had finished. "Elinor is going
to stay over at York on her way to the mountains. She is to be at the
Hotel for a day or two. Oh, I wish that she could stay here! What do you
think, mamma? she could be comfortable in my room, and I would take the
little one next."
"Certainly, my dear, you may ask her as soon as she arrives. When does
she arrive?"
"Why, it must be to-day--for this is Thursday. I wonder why the letter
was so slow. I'll go over as soon as the work is done."
Now it happened that Elinor herself made the first visit, as she had
come in from Portsmouth on an early train. After they had talked of
other things for half an hour, Martine told Elinor of their excitement
of the evening before.
"Are you sure he didn't take anything?" asked Elinor. "I should think
you wouldn't have slept a wink. I should have been awake all night after
such a fright."
"I can't say I was frightened; it seemed rather funny. Do come upstairs
with me now. I must see what the man left behind."
Elinor followed Martine upstairs.
"Why, Martine, what is this?" she cried, raising the white skirt "It
is--why, it must be the gown I lost Class Day--and this--it really is my
trunk," and she gave Martine a severe glance as she bent toward a small
trunk in the corner.
"Nonsense," cried Martine. "That is a skirt the burglar left, part of
his 'booty,' as Angelina calls it, and this is one of our packing
trunks. It has been here all summer."
"But it has my name on it," protested Elinor.
Martine shook her head. Elinor's manner reminded her of her manner on
the day of their first meeting, and it annoyed her.
Nevertheless she bent down towards the label on the trunk.
"Don't look at me in that tone of voice," she said gayly, as she turned
again toward her friend. "The label is certainly marked,
"_Miss Elinor Naylor_
_The Belhaven, Boston_
and now that I look at it closely I can see that this is not one of our
trunks. But how did it come here, Angelina?"
"Oh, Miss Martine, we brought the trunk with us from Boston. It was in
the storeroom. I don't know anything about it, except it came the day
before Class Day. There was a laundress working there that afternoon,
and I remember she told me she had had a trunk sent to the trunk-room. I
supposed you told her, and of course when we moved, all the trunks came
here. You told me they were to come."
"Perhaps you are not altogether to blame, Angelina, although I wish that
you had said something to mamma or me, and I still don't understand why
the trunk was sent to us."
It was now Elinor's turn to explain. "I understand it all. When I left
Bar Harbor for Class Day, I simply put on a tag with my name and I
didn't notice this old label, which was the one I used when I spent a
day or two with you in the spring. The expressman followed the Belhaven
tag, instead of keeping my trunk with Kate's aunt,--so if any one is to
blame, it is I for leaving that tag on."
"I am not so sure of that," replied Martine. "If I had been a really
up-to-date housekeeper I should have known exactly what trunks came down
to York. Now I only hope that our burglar didn't make way with any of
your things."
"We'll soon know;" already Elinor was on her knees before the trunk.
"No" she said, "I hardly think he took anything. The trunk is closely
packed below the tray, and the tray would hold little more than these
things he tumbled out. But I remember a set of topaz studs in a box that
I put in this corner. The box is not here."
After a careful search neither she nor Martine could find the studs. But
Elinor was philosophical over this loss.
"In finding the trunk I feel as if I had recovered a small fortune--and
I can bear the loss of the studs. I daresay Kate will be pleased to get
back her things, although she is so up-to-date, that she may consider
these class-day clothes old-fashioned now, as they were made to wear two
months ago."
"How ridiculous!" exclaimed Martine, "and yet," she admitted, "I can
remember when I would not wear anything that was not of the very latest,
but now--why this is a last year's shirt-waist, and you know how the
sleeves have changed."
A few hours later Martine and Elinor were telling the story of the
"Class-day trunk," as they dubbed it, to a group of merry young people
on the piazza of the hotel, and every one teased Martine about her skill
in abstracting so important a part of Elinor's wardrobe.
After a day or two at the hotel, Elinor began a visit at Martine's that
lengthened itself into a week, and during her friend's stay Martine's
life was as gay as that of the gayest at the Harbor. She drove, she sat
at noon with the gay throng under the pavilion to watch the bathers. She
would not bathe, because she had brought no bathing-suit to York, and
because it was too late in the season, she said, to begin a course of
spectacular bathing. She went with a sailing party on Herbert's
cat-boat, although before Elinor's arrival she had refused all his
invitations. She spent two mornings at the Club watching the tennis
tournament, and she accepted invitations to two luncheons given in
Elinor's honor.
"Martine," said Mrs. Stratford, two or three days after Elinor's
arrival, "Would you not like to have a luncheon for Elinor? On a small
scale we could manage it very well."
"Oh yes, Mrs. Stratford," interposed Angelina, who overheard the
suggestion. "I've just been longing for Miss Martine to have some kind
of an entertainment. There's something going on every day, and I don't
like Miss Martine to be the only one that doesn't entertain--not that
I'd be so presuming as to talk of anything you hadn't spoken of
yourself," she concluded hastily. She was bright enough to notice an
expression of surprise on Mrs. Stratford's face.
"It would make some trouble for you," said Martine.
"Oh, I wouldn't mind that, and I'm always happy when there's something
going on."
"Lucian's last letter was more cheerful;" Martine said this to draw her
mother out.
"Yes, my dear, and I am sure you need not let your father's health stand
in the way of your party. I am sure that he is better."
"But ought we to spend money in that way?"
"It will not cost much."
"I know,--but still."
"There, write your notes. They should be sent at once."
"Instead of a luncheon, mamma, let me have a tea late in the afternoon
and ask boys as well. Herbert has been very good to Elinor, and Atherton
has given us a lot of time, and there are several others. I wish I
needn't ask Carlotta, but I must. However, I can leave out the most of
her crowd."
Elinor helped Martine write the notes, and Angelina took hold of the
preparations with a heartiness that spoke for success.
The tables were spread out-doors, one for serving chocolate and coffee,
one for lemonade. Elinor and Clare gathered flowers in abundance,
especially great clusters of St. Anne's lace, that proved a most
effective table decoration.
In spite of the short notice nearly all whom Martine invited accepted
the invitation, even Carlotta and two or three of her set, who "never
would be missed," said Martine almost ruefully as she read their
replies.
"Then why did you ask them?" Elinor's tone was reproachful.
"Oh, because--well, because I had no good reason for leaving them out.
They have all invited me to something or other, and of course in one way
I want them, only Carlotta is so critical that I hate to think of her
making fun of things here."
"She will have cause to be critical if you do not hurry down to the
village for that extra cream. It's strange they forgot to leave it this
morning. Of course," concluded Elinor, "I think that Carlotta might have
been prompter in answering your invitation, but when she comes she'll be
on her best behavior."
Now it chanced that as Martine was returning from the village, warm and
a little tired, carrying a large bottle of cream under one arm and a
package of odds and ends on the other, she met Carlotta and three or
four others driving rapidly down from the Club. How it happened Martine
never knew, but an unlucky stumble made her lose her hold of the bottle,
and as it flew into the road the cream emptied itself in a sticky pool
in the dusty road.
Poor Martine! The drag slowed up. She thought she heard a
half-suppressed outburst of laughter. But in a moment Herbert stood
beside her. He had slipped down from the drag, and he looked at her now
as if waiting for her to tell him what to do.
"Let me help you," he said at last.
"Help me!" cried Martine scornfully.
"'Oh, Phoebe you have torn your dress!
Where are your berries, child?'
"There, Herbert, that is the way I feel. To think that I must go back to
the village for a second bottle of cream! We are all in a hurry, and
they are waiting for me. Angelina herself could not have done worse."
"Of course you won't turn back. Go home with the other things, and I
will bring you your cream."
So eager was Herbert to be of use that he hardly listened to Martine's
thanks, and Martine, to her own great surprise, for once in her life
found herself ready to obey one to whom she was not in the habit of
looking up. For Herbert, although nearer Lucian's age than Martine's,
always seemed to the latter like a younger boy whom she could order
around. In the present emergency she was thankful for Herbert's help and
pleased enough to receive the cream that he brought from the village.
When her guests arrived at the appointed hour, Martine was fairly proud
of the appearance of Red Knoll. She had had the grass clipped the day
before, and the lawn, if stubbly on close inspection, at least was of a
vivid green. The old-fashioned garden at the side that had been the
pride of the former occupants of the farm, was now in full bloom, and
almost all the chairs had been brought from the house to be set under
the trees or farther up in the meadow, where those who wished could
enjoy the rather unusual view.
With the chairs removed, the dining-room seemed almost spacious, and
there Peggy at one end of the table and Clare at the other served
chocolate and lemonade. The afternoon passed quickly away. Martine
forgot her first anxiety when she saw that her friends were evidently
enjoying themselves.
"I am surprised to see you here," Peggy exclaimed to Herbert. "Isn't it
a great condescension? I thought you had vowed never to go to a tea at
York."
"Generally this kind of thing is a bore, and I had fairly hard work to
get the other fellows to come. But I told them that anything Martine did
was sure to pass off well, and it's true."
"This is just like any other tea," protested Peggy, remembering that
Herbert had never accepted one of her invitations.
"Oh, it's smaller than others," responded Herbert, "and every one knows
every one and we all feel that we can do as we like--and no one is
wearing white gloves," he concluded, as if he had made a special
discovery.
"There are no gloves of any color so far as I can see," retorted Peggy.
"That's just it, we can have a good time here, because everything is
unconventional. But, alas, here is Carlotta--" and Herbert moved rapidly
in the opposite direction from his sister.
Although Carlotta seldom said really disagreeable things, something in
her manner excited Martine's antagonism.
"She need not have referred to the spilt cream," thought the latter,
after a word or two with Carlotta. "She must know I hate to be reminded
that I cut a ridiculous figure."
"Oh yes," she continued aloud, "I am too busy to do much pleasuring this
summer. The house gives me plenty to do, and I have some extra
studying."
"We heard you were going to college," said one of Martine's friends.
"Yes," added Carlotta, "but I shouldn't think you'd quite like to. It
makes a girl so conspicuous to go to college."
"A college girl isn't half so conspicuous as a golf-champion. Why, I saw
your picture in a Sunday paper last month, Carlotta, beside a prize
bicycle rider's, and your weight and height and all kinds of things
about you were there, too."
Martine spoke hotly, as she was apt to when excited, and Carlotta made
no reply.
"If I go to college," continued Martine, "I fear I'll never be
distinguished enough to have my portrait in print." Then, remembering
that personal speeches of this kind were not in good taste from a
hostess to a guest, she changed the subject to something less
irritating. But Carlotta turned away, only half mollified.
"Elinor," cried Martine, as the last of her guests went home, "this tea
has been bad for me; it has given me a taste for society that will worry
me the rest of the summer."
"There's no reason why you shouldn't be a little gayer."
"Oh, yes, there is, every reason. If things go better, I'll have my turn
in a year or two when I am really out, and if things go ill, why I shall
bury myself in work. Really, I meant what I said to Carlotta. I do mean
to try for college. It would be fun to pass the examinations with
Priscilla, even if I couldn't go through. For, of course, if we are very
poor, I shall have to work for a living."
"Martine," cried Elinor, "you are very absurd. When I think of your
cousin Mrs. Stanley at Bar Harbor--"
"Yes, and my cousin Mrs. Blair, who has one of the handsomest places on
the North Shore. But unluckily what is theirs is not mine, and I have
never been a beggar."
"Of course not, but from one extreme you have gone to the other, and I
think that you ought to hope for the best."
"If hoping were having," murmured Martine.
Mr. Gamut was one of the guests whom Martine invited in Elinor's honor.
"Where's your young conductor?" he asked, when he had a moment alone
with her.
"We invited him, but he wrote that he couldn't get off. Mamma felt
pretty sure he wouldn't have come, even if he had time to spare. He is
in this part of the world for business, not pleasure."
"Just so, just so, he's a fine fellow, though, and I mean to keep an eye
on him. I can offer him a good place when he's through studying. I have
no prejudice against the college man in business, and he'll be none the
worse for taking his degree. I liked the way he ran after that fellow
the other night, and he's done some clever detective work since. You'll
hear about it soon."
"Martine," said Mrs. Stratford, when her daughter later told her what
Mr. Gamut had said; "you may congratulate yourself on this one thing, if
on nothing else this summer. By bringing Mr. Gamut and Balfour together
you have accomplished more than you realize."
"But it was the burglar and not I," said Martine, "who really had the
most to do with it. It was the way Balfour ran that impressed Mr. Gamut
the most."
"However it came about, you have had a good share in bringing them
together, and with Mr. Gamut's good will, Balfour is sure to prosper."
"I'm glad of that, mamma. Sometimes I feel that I have been so useless
this summer."
"My dear--" and then Mrs. Stratford said no more. She was really afraid
of spoiling Martine by praise, but she thought it better for the latter
to find out certain things for herself.