HAPPY DAYS.
When Morton came home that night, it was with more of the air Madame
Grandet had so graphically described than usual, for he bore two braces
of birds, which he exultantly dropped, with a silver dollar, into Sara's
lap.
"Why, what is this?" she asked, surprised at the money.
"It's mine," was the proud reply. "Mr. Glendenning gave it to me. He
said I had earned it, as well as the game, for I had done all the hard
work in bagging the birds; and O Sara, but he's a fine shot! Uncle Adam
is that fond of him he's been trying to get him to stay all summer. He
says he's a _man_, if he does wear short pants!"
Sara laughed.
"Two braces of birds, a dollar, and some new friends, how rich we are,
Morton! You shall have a supper fit for a king, now, and I, one good
enough for a princess!" with a meaning smile over her inner thought.
"Won't we? Make it a roast, Sara, with lots of gravy and stuffing, the
way they do at Mrs. Norris's; and oh! I 'most forgot, when we came by
Miss Zeba's, the pretty lady came out and said, 'Tell your sweet sister
we will make her a morning call to-morrow, if she do please'--them's her
very words."
"'Those are,' you mean. Do try, my boy, to speak correctly, at least. I
begin to think people are judged more by the way they speak than the way
they dress, among intelligent people, so be careful."
"That's so, Sara, for Mr. Glendenning said I spoke good English, or, at
least, that because you were so wise was why my English was correct,
something like that."
"Why, what does he know of me?" astonishedly.
"Oh, nothing much, only I said you'd been to school, and so on. Sara, I
believe I'll go up-stairs and lie down till supper's ready--I'm just
about tuckered out!"
"Humph! Do you call _that_ good English, Morton?"
"Well, it's just what I am, if it ain't fine talk," yawning loudly, and
before she could correct him again, the urchin made a grimace of
defiance, and fled up the stairs to his bed in the loft.
The announcement of that supper "fit for a king" brought him down good
as new in an hour's time, and I think few royal personages ever enjoyed
a meal more, for "hunger is the best sauce" now as ever.
The next morning the three from Miss Zeba's arrived, quite curious over
this orphaned family the madame had talked so much about.
As for young Mr. Glendenning, ever since Morton's description of his
sister, which instantly recalled to his memory a blushing, beautiful
face, and a hand outstretched for the gingham bonnet in his own, he had
been secretly wondering in what way he could make his surmises
certainties, without ungentlemanly intrusion; so you may be sure he had
no better business in hand when his aunt proposed the call, while her
husband would go miles any day to view a really fine specimen.
Molly, in the doorway, painfully enchained just then to her stocking-
darning, first sighted the trio, and announced in an excited whisper:--
"They're coming, Sara, they're coming! Have you got the baby washed, and
the braided rug over the broken board in the floor?"
Both these important ceremonies having been attended to, she seated
herself once more, with an attempt at composure, though every line of
her speaking face was alert with anticipation.
"Ah!" said the madame, eying her from the road, "that must be the girl-
twin,--Molly they do call her. What a _chic_ little face it is! Do
look with what an air she will make as if she does not see us; it ees
inimiteeble!"
They turned into the little gate, much amused, and she finally looked
up, with such an assumption of astonishment they could scarcely keep
from laughing outright; then sprang to her feet, and made a twinkling
little bow, which set the young man's eyes to dancing, and entirely
captivated madame, at which Sara appeared in the doorway, with her fine
Greek head, and rare smile, to give them greeting. Then Morton turned
from the fish-lines he was straightening, and looked his honest, quiet
pleasure, as different in manner from his twin-sister as a staid, slow
proud-stepping heron is different from a flitting, fluttering, flame-
winged oriole.
After madame's introductions, which were hardly necessary, as both
gentlemen at once recognized Sara (the younger one with an acceleration
of his heart-beats which rather surprised himself), the professor became
at once immersed in the mineralogical specimens, with Sara to answer his
questions.
His nephew plunged into an animated talk with Morton about blue-fishing,
and the blond lady divided her attentions between Molly and the baby,
whose merry little outbursts soon won the two would-be fishermen from
their discussion. Molly was just then giving an account of her school-
teacher, talking like a little steam-engine, all dimples, gestures, and
tossing curls.
"Why, he isn't anywhere near as good as Sara in books, and you can
tangle him up just like a salmon-line!" she cried. "It's lots of fun to
see him when we all get to asking questions faster'n he can think; but
then, he's awful good about the claws!"
"The what?" asked Glendenning. "Why, you see, when we girls catch a
lobster we always keep the claws in our desk, to pass around and suck
with our bread at lunch (don't you like lobster-claws? They're
splendid!), and he don't mind if we sometimes take 'em out in school-
hours. He says fish is good to make more brains, which we need, and when
our mouths are full we can't be buzzing! We never had one so nice about
that before."
"How wise this modern Aristotle must be!" the young man broke in amid
the laughter. "But I doubt if even a lobster-claw could keep you still!"
The little maid gave him a shy glance, containing more of coquetry than
her sister would ever know.
"I'm pretty still in church," she said, "that is, if 'tisn't _too_
long. Do you think it's very bad to just look 'round at the clock
sometimes? Our church clock's right under the gallery scats, behind us,
and it goes the slowest of any I ever saw! Sometimes, when I've waited
'most an hour before I looked 'round, it won't be five minutes by that
clock! Miss Prue Plunkett's my Sunday-school teacher; and one Sunday
when I had a cold, and my neck was so stiff I couldn't move, she said it
didn't better those old Jews any to be a stiff-necked race, but it
certainly did me. Sometimes Miss Prue talks so't I can't understand just
what she means; but Sara likes her first-rate, and so do I too, most
generally."
"Molly!" came admonishingly from the corner where the shelves were, "I'm
afraid you're talking too much." "Yes, she is, Sara," put in Morton
earnestly. "She's just _rattling!_"
The madame leaned back, laughing in keenest enjoyment.
"I had forgotten how delightful it is that children may be in a state of
nature," she said. "Ah, Robare, how can we go back to those doll-childs
at the hotel, with their so fine costumes, and so of-this-world-weary
airs, now? You have no doll-houses, my infants, no fine toys that move
by the machine-work within, no bicycles, no anything for play; what,
then, does amuse you all the day's length in this most sleepy town?"
The children stared at her with round, puzzled eyes.
What did they find to amuse them? With the cliffs, and the sand, and
sea, and the nice little lobster and clam basins they knew about; and
the countless shells for dishes, and fish-scales for jewellery, and kelp
for carpets, and dulse and feathery sea-fern for decorations.
"Dear me!" cried Molly, "there's things enough; all we want is
_time_. Here I've wasted a whole morning darning stockings and
talking to you!"
The outburst that followed this _naive_ confession brought uneasy
Sara to her sister's side; and with a hand on one of those restless,
twitching little shoulders, she managed to keep her respectably quiet
through the rest of the call.
As the guests went down the village street it was funny to hear their
comments.
"It ees a most fine collection, all varieties and classified most
orderly," observed the professor, intent on the minerals.
"Such specimens! And impossible to keep in order!" broke out the young
man, meaning something entirely different. "But the oldest is a rare
one, and"--
"Ze oldest? Yes, but there be some vich are mos' rare of dose later
ones, too. But"--
"The little feather head!" laughed madame out of her thought, oblivious
of what had gone before, "but _jolie_ and bright"--
"Zat so bright on, it ees no feddar-head, Felicie; you mistake. That was
the rusty, dull"--
"Rusty! Dull! That so brilliant bird of a child! what mean you, Leon?"
"Child? Who say child?" dazedly.
"Oh, stop, stop!" interposed their nephew, raising both hands, "don't
have a family jar over nothing. Uncle's on geology, and auntie on
babies; don't you see?" and the discussion ended good-naturedly in a
laugh all around.
They came every day after that, during their lengthened stay of a week,
and often the professor would press Sara into service to direct him in
his search for treasures, while madame stayed with Molly and baby; and
Morton took many a delightful sail in the yacht with Mr. Glendenning
after bluefish or salmon.
Those were happy, plentiful days in the little cottage, for fresh fish
or game was almost constantly on their table, while the overplus, sold
to their richer friends, kept baby in milk, and all in necessary
supplies.
Besides, madame's quick eyes soon penetrated into the real poverty
behind the hospitable, self-respecting air of the little household, and
she managed in many delicate ways to assist them.
Feeling instinctively that there must be no hint of remuneration to Sara
for her really valuable services as guide to her husband, she struck up
a trade in wild-flowers, delicate algae, and shells with Molly, buying
all that the child could bring her (and the little girl was famous for
these findings), afterwards teaching her to mount them in exquisite
designs on Bristol-board for possible future customers.
Morton, too, was paid a liberal percentage on fishing-tackle, etc., so
that among them all the wolf was kept decidedly at bay, and Sara felt
every night like adding a special thanksgiving to her prayers, because
she was not forced to ask a loan of Squire Scrantoun.