QUIET LIFE
When Elinor left York for the mountains, she took the little trunk with
her, after carefully removing the Belhaven label. The label itself she
carried in her card-case. "I shall need it," she said, "to illustrate my
tale of a trunk when I tell it. Every one who has heard it thus far
thinks it the most amusing story that ever was--and if it hadn't
happened no one could believe it. This label is a proof of its truth."
Martine missed Elinor more than she admitted even to her mother. It was
part of her summer plan to seem perfectly contented with everything.
Mrs. Stratford noted with some concern that Martine was growing paler,
if not a little thinner. Could it be that she was less happy than she
professed to be, less contented?
Whatever she did, she did with her utmost energy, and in summer it was
possible for a young girl to have too much of housework, gardening and
study. It had become almost a passion with her to make up one or two
deficiencies before her return to school. Strangely enough, it was
Herbert now, on whom she began to depend for help in carrying on her
work, and this is how it came about.
Herbert, after the so-called rescue on the Piscataqua, made light of the
affair, in spite of Martine's reiteration that except for him she knew
that she and Clare--not to mention Angelina--must have capsized.
"We might not have met a watery grave--but we certainly should have
reached shore very wet."
"Well, perhaps," responded Herbert, "but even if it meant something to
you to be saved from your 'peril' as you call it, you must admit that
Atherton and I ran no risk."
"That doesn't alter the fact that you were thoughtful as well as brave,
and really, Herbert, if only you wouldn't pretend to be so lazy,
you'd--"
Martine did not finish the sentence, for Herbert immediately tried to
prove that he was not lazy.
"Of course I won't fall in with all of Carlotta's plans; if I did she'd
keep me busy from morning to night. But I got into college without
conditions--and that reminds me--Miss Martine Stratford--I heard you
complaining the other day about your Cicero, and so, if you are not too
lazy, I will come to you two or three times a week to read Latin with
you. We'll make the orations fly like hot-cakes, and Carlotta will be
more infuriated than ever that I have something to do that will keep me
from trotting around after her."
"If that's your motive, I refuse to be helped."
"You ought to be very grateful, for in general I don't approve of a
girl's going to college, and I understand it's because you have college
in view that you wish to skip on with your Latin. But it's only because
I think college won't spoil you that I consent to give you the benefit
of my knowledge," and Herbert assumed a pompous air that greatly amused
Martine. Thus it happened that a day or two after Elinor left York,
Herbert entered on his self-appointed office of tutor. Mrs. Stratford
had made no objection when Martine told her of Herbert's plan. She had
known Herbert for a long time, and she understood some of the
difficulties of his home surroundings. Carlotta and he were so unlike in
temperament, that they were constantly at swords' points, and Mrs.
Brownville was so absorbed in her own narrow interests that she had
never found time to study her children.
Mrs. Stratford realized that Martine could do more for Herbert than he
for her, as he never resented the sisterly advice that she bestowed on
him.
Carlotta was the only one who seemed to object to Herbert's new
occupation. She teased him unmercifully, and showed an inclination to
snub Martine. The two girls, fortunately, did not meet often, for
Martine had little part in the gayeties of August, while Carlotta was a
leader of the younger set.
Carlotta, had she been so disposed, might have done much for Martine. On
the other hand, Martine, with a little effort, could have shared in the
pleasures of the young people of her own age. At last her mother
remonstrated with her for holding herself aloof from those who were
pleasantly disposed to her.
But Martine was firm.
"No, mother, I can't serve two masters. The summer has been flying away,
and I haven't accomplished half that I had hoped to. I shan't dare to
look Priscilla in the face if I haven't made up all that Latin. Then I
shouldn't have a really good time if I 'mingled' more, as Angelina
suggests. People here are cliquey, and Carlotta and Peggy are the only
girls in the crowd that I've ever known before. Peggy is a regular
will-o'-the-wisp, and Carlotta and I never could be intimate."
"But still--" began Mrs. Stratford.
"But still," echoed Martine, "you seem to forget, mother dear, that we
came here to save money--and everything costs so much--and I don't want
to spend my poor little allowance on dress and excursions, and sometimes
I feel pretty blue, and until we know from Lucian how father really is,
I couldn't plunge into things. There wouldn't be any half way with me;
if I should begin to 'go,' I would just have to go all the time."
Here Martine stopped for sheer want of breath. But her mother, watching
her closely, wondered if she really understood herself. Yet Martine was
sincere. It was only when she heard of some particularly pleasant thing
that she felt left out. A moonlight sail, an all-day picnic up the
river, an excursion to Agamenticus, all seemed to her as she heard of
them more delightful affairs than they actually were to those who took
part in them.
Before Herbert and Clare, Martine maintained her Spartan indifference,
even when they talked of their own experiences in a well-meant effort to
make her express a desire to go with them on their next expedition.
But nothing could weaken Martine's determination to lead a quiet life.
"It isn't as if I never had had any fun, or never should have any more,"
she wrote to Priscilla, "but even as it is I believe I have been running
about too much. For the next few weeks I mean to be quiet as a dormouse,
and two pages of Latin a day will keep me pretty busy. You see, Prissie,
if papa really has lost all his money, I shall want to earn my living at
once. I never could be dependent on my relations, and Lucian will have
all he can do for the next few years. Oh, how different this summer is
from last, when I almost felt as if I owned the world, though I hope I
didn't show it. Of course we are very comfortable here. The house is
small, but we brought enough of our own things to make it homelike, and
Angelina does pretty well, though I have to help out with things
sometimes. We have radishes and peas and a few tomato plants in the
kitchen garden, but the rest of the place is all in grass, except the
flower garden, and that would do your heart good. There are all kinds of
old-fashioned things that you would love. They have grown up in the
wildest way, and I am kept very busy weeding the flowers as well as the
vegetables. Now, Prissie, before we leave York you must make us a visit.
Mother and I both want you, and York will suit you to a T. The summer
people make it livelier than Plymouth, but there are enough queer old
houses to make you feel quite at home. You'd enjoy the graveyard
opposite the church. It is shaded with ancient trees, and every one
browses around there at least once. The funniest stone that I saw there
was Father Moody's; he was the father of Handkerchief Moody. The
inscription is just what you might expect from a thrifty New Englander.
I wonder more haven't tried the same thing. Instead of having a long
inscription put on he just gave the chapter and verse, 2 Corinthians,
III, 1-6, so that any one interested could read. I am sorry to say I
haven't yet had time. There's another thing that might amuse you. There
are a lot of little cottages down by the Long Beach beyond the harbor.
They look as if they were made of cardboard, painted in bright colors,
and have fancy names like 'Sea-crest' and 'Harbor View.' Well, the other
day on our way to Cape Neddock, I noticed one called Gorgeana, and I
thought the owners had given it this name because they meant to enjoy
themselves by eating all they could, or gorging.
"I was awfully snubbed by Herbert when I asked him if it wasn't a shame
for people to advertise their greediness. He laughed well at me when he
reminded me that the name was in honor of Gorges, the founder of York, a
fact which I really ought to have remembered, for of course I knew it.
"You need not be jealous of Clare, as you suggest. It is certainly
pleasant to have a congenial girl so near. But she never could take your
place--never in the world.
"She is something like you, however, quiet and dignified, and fond of
history. Mrs. Ethridge is great fun, and would be good company for
mother, except that she plays bridge from morning till night.
"You haven't told me what you think of my rescue, and of Balfour and the
burglar. I wrote you a few days ago.
"I had a letter from Brenda last week. Isn't it wonderful that she
should find time to think of me when she is so far away. She is
delighted because all the family are with her now, and they are to be in
San Rafael the rest of the summer.
"She is not sure whether she will be in Boston next winter. How I wish
we might have her apartment again. But we can't tell what we shall do
until father and Lucian return. She says she would like to be with me
one winter, to be sure that I really deserve to be called her ward."
Then, with messages to Mrs. Danforth and the children, Martine concluded
her letter.
It brought a quick reply, in which Priscilla laughed at Martine for her
two rescues--if one can be said to laugh in a letter.
"For an independent person it seems to me that you succeed in getting
rescued from extreme danger pretty often. Balfour, in the fog last
summer, had the easier time I should say, and I only hope that he and
Herbert Brownville may not come to blows in trying to decide which is
the greater hero.
"If I am called on to help to decide, I should have to decide against
Balfour, for you could not be half as much lost on a horse as in a
boat."
Although Priscilla was correct in her diagnosis of the different kinds
of dangers, Balfour and Herbert gave no signs of coming to blows on the
subject of their prowess. On the contrary, they showed an inclination to
be very good friends. As Balfour's time was so fully occupied with his
duties, Herbert acquired the habit of taking long rides on the cars.
Then at the end of the route, or when waiting at turn-outs, he and
Balfour had chances for the snatches of conversation in which boys find
more pleasure than girls.
Carlotta was as little pleased with Herbert's intimacy with Balfour, as
with his interest in Martine's Latin. It might not be fair to say that
she wished to keep her brother entirely under her thumb, and yet it
annoyed her that he was so much less amenable to her than formerly. She
liked to feel that he was ready to come and go as she wished. She
especially needed him to help entertain her visitors, of whom she
usually had two or three staying in the house.
Now it happened one evening that Martine reading a Boston newspaper came
upon something that excited her mightily.
"O, mamma," she exclaimed, "Only think! Mrs. Dundonald is coming
here--just listen; Mrs. Dundonald, the well-known artist, passed through
Boston to-day on her way to York Harbor where she is to spend a few days
with friends."
"Well, my dear, what of it?" responded Mrs. Stratford.
"Oh, you know how I admire Mrs. Dundonald's work. She does exactly the
kind of thing I should like to do, and they say she is perfectly
charming. To think she is coming here! Oh, I do hope we shall meet her!"
Then Martine paused suddenly, remembering that for the present she and
her mother were not likely to meet any distinguished stranger visiting
York. From Clare she learned the next day that Mrs. Dundonald was
staying with Miss Stark, an elderly lady whose house was next that of
the Brownvilles'. Clare offered to take Martine to call on Miss Stark
and Mrs. Dundonald, but Martine hesitated because she had heard that
Miss Stark was a rigid upholder of formal etiquette.
"I have had one or two little snubs," she said, "and I should hate to be
treated with scorn because I had made the first call on an older woman."
"There is no danger of that," replied Clare, "but still, there will
probably be some other way, for you ought to have a chance to meet Mrs.
Dundonald."
Just at this time Herbert happened to be away on a short yachting trip,
so that Martine could not tell him of her desire. The Brownvilles were
cousins as well as neighbors of Miss Stark's, and had Herbert been at
home he could easily have arranged a meeting between Martine and the
artist.
"Martine," said Clare a day after their conversation about Miss Stark
and her guest, "I saw Carlotta at the beach this morning and I told her
how anxious you were to meet Mrs. Dundonald. She knows her very well,
and--"
"She didn't promise to introduce me immediately?"
Martine's tone was sarcastic. She knew very well that Carlotta would
hardly exert herself to do her a favor. The girls were seated on Mrs.
Ethridge's piazza at this moment, and before Clare could reply to
Martine, the maid handed her a note that had come by special messenger.
Martine watched her friend as she read, and noticed that she made no
comment as she slipped the note back in its envelope. Then for a few
moments neither girl spoke. Martine had recognized the man who had given
the note to the maid. He was one of the Brownvilles' coachmen.
"Martine," said Clare, at length, "Carlotta is giving a large stand-up
luncheon for Mrs. Dundonald the day after to-morrow. It is just to let
the girls here at York have a chance to meet her. Of course you will
find your invitation when you go home."
"Perhaps," replied Martine, and this word found an echo in Clare's
heart.
When Martine returned home she found no invitation from Carlotta, nor
did one come before the luncheon. Strange as it may seem, in view of
Martine's repeated declaration that she hated formal festivities in
summer, she felt aggrieved that Carlotta had left her out.
"Perhaps Carlotta has heard you express yourself. You know my dear, you
have been a little scornful about the doings of the younger set."
"Oh, no, mamma, I have seldom taken the trouble to express my opinions
to Carlotta. Besides, she knows I am anxious to meet Mrs. Dundonald.
Unluckily Clare has told her this, so my snubbing is all the harder to
bear."
Nor was Martine's disappointment lessened by the fact that Clare gave up
the luncheon. "You might as well have gone," she said. "It is all the
worse for me to know that I have kept you out of something you would
have enjoyed."
"But I have met so many artists," replied Clare, smiling, "that one more
or less makes little difference to me. You know I do not care for
crowds, and although Carlotta speaks of this luncheon as 'small,' I know
there will be a crush. I'd much rather go off somewhere with you for the
day. Cousin Mary has been urging me to come over to Portsmouth for the
day. She would love to see you too. Let us go to-morrow; it will be much
more fun than Carlotta's luncheon."
But when to-morrow came, a strange thing happened. By some means known
only to her, Angelina had heard that a man had been arrested in
Portsmouth for breaking and entering a little shop.
"I want to go over and identify him; I know he's our burglar, and that,
of course, makes him Miguel Silva, who took Miss Brenda's money."
"But you would better wait until you are sent for. You may be needed as
a witness."
"Oh, I don't know about that. The law is slow, they say, so I want to go
now and look at him, and shake my fist at him, and tell him that I am
Angelina Rosa, and then, please, I am going on in the trolley to Boston.
I had a letter from my mother. She'd like to see me, and I want to tell
her about Miguel Silva."
"Would you leave us now, with no one to help us?"
Mrs. Stratford spoke sharply. Martine was too surprised to speak.
"I am sorry, of course," said Angelina, "the place isn't hard, and
you've been like a mother to me. But it's very quiet for me at York. You
see we're not exactly in things, and I think I'd better be nearer home.
My trunk is all packed, and I'll get the express to call to-day."
"Very well," said Mrs. Stratford, turning away with a dignity that gave
Angelina no chance to reply.
"Maggie would never have done this, and I am surprised at you,"
remonstrated Martine as Angelina bade her good-bye.
"I am sorry you feel so," rejoined Angelina, "for I haven't a fault to
find with you and Mrs. Stratford. I have heard of a wash-lady that would
come in by the day, and I'll stop at her house on the way."
"Oh, no, we can look out for ourselves."
"It isn't that it hasn't been pleasant here," continued Angelina; "I've
had a real good time almost always, but I'm homesick, and I have a duty
to my family, and I think I'd better go while Miguel Silva is where I
can get at him; for after to-day they might lock him up where I couldn't
see him, and I want him to know what I think. There's only one thing I
want to confess, Miss Martine. You remember when the cook went away last
winter,--so unexpectedly, you know, before your dinner? Well, it was I
who discharged her. I told her you wanted her to go, and I paid her for
the rest of the week. I was so anxious to have things all to myself, so
I could show what I could do. But it didn't do me much good,--after the
expense of paying her,--for you kept getting cooks that wouldn't let me
meddle. But I hope you'll think kindly of me, Miss Martine, and so now
good-bye."
After this extraordinary speech, Angelina tripped gayly down the path in
the direction of the cars.
"It's frightful ingratitude!" said Martine. "I feel as if I should never
wish to do anything for any one again."
"Angelina has earned her money," responded Mrs. Stratford. "She has
worked pretty faithfully. As I have studied her character, I have
sometimes wondered that she should stay so contentedly with us, when we
have given her so little opportunity to indulge in her favorite gossip."
"But what shall we do now? That is the question, mamma. Of course I will
help all I can, but I am feeling tired, and you are not strong enough,
and we must stay here."
"There, there, Martine, do not borrow trouble. To-day will take care of
itself, and as for to-morrow--"
"To-morrow," cried Clare, suddenly coming upon them, "will be the best
day for our Portsmouth excursion, and mamma has sent me over to invite
you, Mrs. Stratford, to spend the day with her."
"There, Martine, to-morrow is provided for. Tell your mother, Clare,
that I am only too happy to accept her invitation. I must leave you now,
while Martine relates the story of Angelina."
As her mother turned toward the house, Martine told Clare of Angelina's
departure.
"You must find some one to take her place," said Clare. "You are thinner
than when you came to York, and if you don't mind my saying so, you look
tired."
To Clare's great surprise, her friend, instead of replying, shed a tear
or two. But the tears were followed by smiles, as Martine exclaimed:
"There, I am almost as bad as Priscilla."
"But do you suppose that Angelina was right about the burglar? I wonder
if your friend Balfour Airton has heard--"
"Oh, if the burglar has been caught, I am sure Balfour knows all about
it. He was really very anxious himself to discover the fellow. If he is
off duty, he will probably come over to see us this evening--at least if
he has anything to tell."