THE COLESWORTHS
Mr. Bray fell in with the boarder project, as we have seen, with
enthusiasm. Although he could do nothing as yet, his mind was active
enough and he gaily planned with 'Phemie what they should do and how
they should arrange the rooms for the horde of visitors who were, they
were sure, already on their way to Hillcrest.
"Though Lyd won't show the very first letter she's received in answer to
our ad.," complained the younger sister. "What's the matter with those
folks, Lyddy? Do they actually live right there near where we did on
Trimble Avenue?"
"That was a loft building next to us," said their father, curiously. "Who
are the people, daughter?"
"Somebody by the name of Colesworth. The Commonwealth Chemical Company
office. It's about an old man to stay here."
"One man only!" exclaimed 'Phemie.
"With a young man--the one who writes--to come up over Sundays, I
suppose," acknowledged Lyddy, doubtfully.
"Goody!" cried her sister. "_That_ sounds better."
"Aren't you ashamed of yourself, 'Phemie!" chided Lyddy, with some
asperity.
But Mr. Bray only laughed. "I guess I can play 'he-chaperon' for all the
young men who come here," he said. "Your sister is only making fun, Lydia."
But Lyddy was more worried in secret about the Colesworth proposition
than she was ready to acknowledge. She "just felt" that Harris Colesworth
was the young man who had helped them the evening of the fire in the
Trimble Avenue tenement.
"He found out our name, of course, and when he saw my advertisement he
knew who it was. He may even have found out where we were going when
we left for the country. In some way he could have done so," thought
Lyddy, putting the young man's character before her mind in the very
worst possible light.
"He is altogether too persistent. I hope he is as energetic in a better
way--I hope he attends to his business as faithfully as he seems to attend
to _our_ affairs," continued Lyddy, bitterly.
"I don't suppose this idea of his father coming up here into the hills is
entirely an excuse for him to become familiar with--with _us_. But it
looks very much like it. I--I wonder what kind of a man old Mr. Colesworth
can be?"
Lyddy ruminated upon the letter she had received all that day and refused
to answer it right away. Indeed, as far as she could see, the letter did
not really need an answer. This Harris Colesworth spoke just as though
he expected they would be only too glad to meet him on Saturday with a rig.
"And, if it were anybody else, I suppose I would be glad to do so," Lyddy
finally had to admit. "I suppose that 'beggars mustn't be choosers'; and
if this Harris Colesworth isn't a perfectly proper young man to have
about, father will very quickly attend to _his_ case."
Really, Lyddy Bray thought much more about the Colesworths than her sister
and father thought she did. After being urged by 'Phemie several times she
finally allowed her sister to reply to the letter, promising to have a
carriage at the station for the train mentioned in Harris Colesworth's
letter.
Of course, this meant hiring Lucas Pritchett and the buckboard. Lucas was
at Hillcrest a good deal of the time that week. He got the garden plowed
and the early potatoes planted, as well as some few other seeds which
would not be hurt by the late frosts.
Mr. Bray got around very slowly; at first he could only walk up and down
in the sun, or sit on the porch, well wrapped up.
Like most men born in the country and forced to be city dwellers for
many years, John Bray had longed more deeply than he could easily express
for country living. He appreciated the sights and sounds about him--the
mellow, refreshing air that blew over the hills--the sunshine and the
pattering rain which, on these early spring days, drifted alternately
across the fields and woods.
With the girls he planned for the future. Some day they would have a
cow. There was pasture on the farm for a dozen. And already Lyddy was
studying poultry catalogs and trying to figure out a little spare money
to purchase some eggs for hatching.
Of course they had no hens and at this time of the year the neighbors
were likely to want their own setting hens for incubating purposes. Lyddy
sounded Silas Trent, the mail-carrier, about this and Mr. Trent had an
offer to make.
"I tell ye what it is," said the garrulous Silas, "the chicken business is
a good business--if ye kin 'tend to it right. I tried it--went in deep
for incubator, brooders, and the like; and it would have been all right
if I didn't hafter be away from home so much durin' the day.
"My wife's got rheumatiz, and she can't git out to 'tend to little chicks,
and for a few weeks they need a sight of attention--that's right. They'd
oughter be fed every two hours, or so, and watched pretty close.
"So I had ter give it up last year, an' this year I ain't put an egg in
my incubator.
"But if I could git 'em growed to scratchin' state--say, when they're
broiler-size--I sartainly would like it. Tell ye what I'll do, Miss. I'll
let ye have my incubator. It's 200-egg size. In course, ye don't hafter
fill it first time if ye don't wanter. Put in a hundred eggs and see how
ye come out."
"But how could I pay you?" asked Lyddy.
"I'll sell ye the incubator outright, if ye want to buy. And I'll take my
pay in chickens when they're broiler-size--say three months old."
"What do you want for your incubator?" queried Lyddy, thoughtfully.
"Ten dollars. It's a good one. And I'll take a flock of twenty
three-months-old chicks in pay for it--fifteen pullets and five cockerels.
What kind of hens do you favor, Miss Bray?"
Lyddy told him the breed she had thought of purchasing--and the strain.
"Them's fine birds," declared Mr. Trent. "For heavy fowl they are good
layers--and when ye butcher one of 'em for the table, ye got suthin' to
eat. Now, you think my offer over. I'll stick to it. And I'll set the
incubator up and show ye how to run it."
Lyddy was very anxious to venture into the chicken business--and here was
a chance to do it cheaply. It was the five dollars for a hundred hatching
eggs that made her hesitate.
But Aunt Jane had shown herself to be more than a little interested in
the girls' venture at Hillcrest Farm, and when she expressed the keys
of the garret chests and bureaus to Lyddy--so that the girl could get
at the stores of linen left from the old doctor's day--she sent, too,
twenty-five dollars.
"Keep it against emergencies. Pay it back when you can. And don't let's
have no talk about it," was the old lady's characteristic note.
Lyddy was only doubtful as to whether this desire of hers to raise
chickens was really "an emergency." But finally she decided to venture,
and she wrote off for the eggs, sending the money by a post-office order,
and Lucas brought up Silas Trent's incubator.
Friday night Trent drove up to Hillcrest and spent the evening with the
Brays. He set the incubator up in the little washhouse, which opened
directly off the back porch. It was a small, tight room, with only one
window, and was easily heated by an oil-lamp. The lamp of the incubator
itself would do the trick, Trent said.
He leveled the machine with great care, showed Lyddy all about the
trays, the water, the regulation of heat, and gave her a lot of advice
on various matters connected with the raising of chicks with the "wooden
hen."
They were all vastly interested in the new vocation and the evening passed
pleasantly enough. Just before Trent went, he asked:
"By the way, what's Jud Spink doing up this way so much? I seen him again
to-day when I came over the ridge. He was crossin' the back of your farm.
He didn't have no gun; and, at any rate, there ain't nothin' in season
jest now--'nless it's crows," and the mail-carrier laughed.
"Spink?" asked Mr. Bray, who had not yet gone to bed. "Who is he?"
"Lemuel Judson Spink," explained 'Phemie. "He's a man who used to live
here with grandfather when he was a boy--when _Spink_ was a boy; not
grandfather."
"He's a rich man now," said Lyddy. "He owns a breakfast food."
"Diamond Grits," added 'Phemie.
"He's rich enough," grunted Trent. "Rich enough so't he can loaf around
Bridleburg for months at a time. Been here now for some time."
"Why, could that be the Spink your Aunt Jane told me once made her an
offer for the farm?" asked Mr. Bray, thoughtfully.
"For Hillcrest?" cried 'Phemie. "Oh, I hope not."
"Well, child, if she could sell the place it would be a good thing for
Jane. She has none too much money."
"But why didn't she sell to him?" asked Lyddy, quite as anxious as her
sister.
"He didn't offer her much, if anything, for it."
"Ain't that like Jud?" cackled Trent. "He is allus grouching about the
old doctor for being as tight as the bark to a tree; but when it comes
to a bargain, Jud Spink will wring yer nose ev'ry time--if he can. Glad
Mis' Hammon' didn't sell to him."
"Perhaps he didn't want Hillcrest very much," said Mr. Bray, quietly.
"He don't want nothin' 'nless it's cheap," declared Trent. "He's picked up
some mortgage notes, and the like, on property he thinks he can foreclose
on. Got a jedgment against the Widder Harrison's little place over the
ridge, I understand. But Jud Spink wouldn't pay more'n ha'f price for a
gold eagle. He'd claim 'twas second-hand, if it warn't fresh from the
mint," and the mail-carrier went off, chuckling over his own joke.
Both Lyddy and 'Phemie forgot, however, about the curious actions of Mr.
Spink, or his desire to buy Hillcrest, in their interest in the coming
of the only people who had, thus far, answered their advertisement for
boarders.
Lucas met the 10:14 train on Saturday morning, and before noon he drove
into the side yard with an old gentleman and a young man on the rear seat
of the buckboard.
Before this the two girls, working hard, had swept and garnished the whole
lower floor of the big farmhouse, save the east wing, which was locked.
Indeed, Lyddy had never ventured into the old doctor's suite of offices,
for she couldn't find the key.
A fire had been laid and was burning cheerfully in the dining-room--that
apartment being just across the square side entrance hall from the
kitchen. Lyddy was busy over the cooking arrangements when the visitors
arrived, and 'Phemie was giving the finishing touches to the table in
the dining-room.
But Mr. Bray, leaning on his cane, met the Colesworths as they alighted
from the buckboard. Lucas drove away at once, promising to return again
with the team in time to catch the four-fifty train back to town.
Lyddy found time to peep out of the kitchen window. Yes! there was that
very bold young man who had troubled her so much--at times--while they
lived in Trimble Avenue.
He met Mr. Bray with a warm handshake, and he helped his father up the
wide stone steps with a delicacy that would have pleased Lyddy in anybody
else.
But she had made up her mind that Harris Colesworth was going to be a
very objectionable person to have about, and so she would not accept his
friendly attitude or thoughtfulness as real virtues. He might attract the
rest of the family--already 'Phemie was standing in the door, smiling and
with her hand held out; but Lyddy Bray proposed to watch this young man
very closely!