THE MASTER
A bolt from the cloudless blue could not have startled the little
gathering on the lawn more than did the arrival of the distinguished
stranger at the gate of Happy House. Moreover, French Mercedes cars
did not often pass through North Hero; this was purple and cream color
and the chauffeur wore purple livery. And the man who walked up the
path had a bearing that distinctly set him apart from ordinary mortals.
Nancy, in a panic, wanted the earth to swallow her, but as the earth
was very solid, she had no choice but to drag herself forward. She
had, only a moment before, prayed that something would happen--and
something had!
Peter Hyde had rushed forward to greet the newcomer and this had given
Nancy a moment to rally her scattered wits. She was too busy
whispering an explanation to Miss Sabrina to notice how friendly had
been the master's greeting to Peter.
"Miss Leavitt, may I present Mr. Theodore Hoffman--and Miss Anne
Leavitt."
Peter's voice was as steady as though he was introducing any John
Smith; there was even a twinkle in his eye, as it caught Nancy's
glance, that seemed to say: "I have brought the master to you--now!"
There was a gentleness in the keen, deep-set eyes, a friendliness in
the musical voice of the master that suddenly quieted Nancy's
fluttering nerves. Time and again, at the very thought of this
meeting, she had been so frightened and now--she was not a bit afraid.
She was even glad he had come when the garden looked so pretty, when
Aunt Sabrina was so proudly garbed in her best silk, when Aunt Milly,
all pink and white, with Nonie perched on the arm of her chair, was
leaning over explaining some intricate stitch in a bit of embroidery to
Liz, to whom embroidery was not less remote than Sanskrit literature.
Mrs. Sniggs and Mrs. Todd were staring, open-mouthed, first at the
stranger, then at the cream-and-purple car at the gate.
Nancy's spirits that had dropped to such depths behind the syringa
bushes soared again. At last her moment had come! The master was
declaring his delight in having chosen such a happy afternoon to come
to Happy House; he admired the garden, and the old house; he admitted
to a great curiosity concerning the Islands--he had never visited them
before.
Nancy left him with Aunt Sabrina. Aunt Sabrina would manage to tell
him a great deal--Nancy, watching, knew just when she left the Indians
and the burning of Freedom and began on Ethan Allen and the Green
Mountain Boys and the coming of Benedict Arnold and his flagship to the
Island.
"He'll love her," she whispered to Peter Hyde, nodding toward where the
master leaned with deep attention over Miss Sabrina's chair. "Look me
square in the eye, Peter! _Did_ you know he was coming to-day?"
"On my honor, I didn't. Is the play ready?"
"All ready, in a nice fat envelope. For goodness sake, look at Webb!"
Webb, returning from the house where he had hurried to tell B'lindy of
the coming of the distinguished guest ("Don' know who he is nor whar he
come from, but he's got one of them thur autymobiles that's bigger'n a
steam enjine and a fellar drivin' it thet's dressed up like a circus
lady") was standing in the path wildly gesticulating with one hand to
attract Nancy's attention and with the other clapped over his mouth to
suppress the laughter that was plainly shaking his entire body.
Nancy and Peter turned to see what had so convulsed him. Up the road
toward the gate were approaching three separate groups of women, all
coming hurriedly, breathlessly, with a great deal of chatter and
fussing with hats and gloves.
Mrs. Maria Slade, behind her blind had seen the purple and
cream-colored car. So had Miss Merry, across the street; so had a
dozen others from behind their entrenchments. Simultaneously, in as
many hearts, the urge of curiosity conquered resentment.
"It'll only take me _half_ a minit to slip on my green dress," Mrs.
Slade had called to Miss Merry. "Wait fer me!"
Mrs. Brown, next door, had heard her.
"I'll come along, too," she called out.
All through the street there was a stirring behind closed blinds, a
hurried taking down of the Sunday-best and a feverish changing of shoes
and searching for gloves.
"It's all very well for Sarah Eaton to tell us to show our pride," Mrs.
Dexter had confided to Mrs. Hill, "but _I_ just said to myself nobody
done nothing to hurt me, _I_ was goin' to see for myself what Sabriny
Leavitt was havin' up there! Did you see that automobile? Purple, as
I live. My, ain't this sun hot! I've got to go slower or I'll have a
stroke."
"Every blessed woman in Freedom," cried Peter Hyde.
"Oh, how _funny_! Look at them coming. They saw the purple car.
Peter, the party is a success! Aunt Sabrina will never know. Watch me
now!" With a saucy tilt of her chin Nancy stepped down the path to
greet the first of the late comers.
"_So_ glad you have come," she murmured prettily, clasping Mrs. Slade's
warm hand. "Do come under the trees where it is cool. I am so sorry
you hurried."
In her most gracious manner Nancy presented each one in turn to Mr.
Theodore Hoffman, of New York, then carried them off to Miss Milly.
"--and Miss Hopworth! But of course you know Miss Hopworth. Doesn't
Nonie look darling to-day?" she would say to each one, with wicked
intent.
Then a sudden inspiration seized her. "Nonie should play one of her
pretend games for the master and their guests," she whispered excitedly
to Aunt Milly and Nonie and Peter Hyde.
"Wheel Aunt Milly's chair back toward those bushes--that'll be the
stage. Now, Nonie, play your best! Perhaps--perhaps the fairy
godmother is here."
After a few moments of excited consultation Peter Hyde announced in a
loud tone that, for the entertainment of the guests, a fairy fantasy,
"The Visit of the Moon-Queen," would be presented by Miss Nonie
Hopworth.
"Well, I swun, with folks here from N'York, encouragin' that girl to
act her nonsense," murmured Mrs. Sniggs to a neighbor.
But the man-from-New York's face brightened expectantly when Nancy
waved her hand out over their heads as though to touch them all with a
fairy wand. "Let my magic give you fairy eyes so that you may see that
this is _not_ the garden of Happy House but a woodland, peopled by
fairy creatures! If you will listen very hard, you will hear them
stirring. It is the Flowers. They come to the Woodland to make it
ready for the Moon-Queen who will visit them this night!"
Down through the trees danced Nonie, bare-footed, arms outflung, as
though she was, indeed, joyously preparing for the triumphal coming of
a Queen. In turn she characterized the Daisy, the Hollyhock, the
Buttercup and the Rose--then became the good old Dandelion.
"Lily, you are _so_ lazy," the Dandelion sternly admonished her fair
sister. "Don't you know the Queen likes tidy gardens when she comes
here? And see the muss Buttercup has left around. Oh, dearie me,
children will be children and I'll be so glad when Buttercup and
Daffy-down-dilly grow up! Daisy, it isn't lady-like to complain that
your dress is so plain! I am sure the Queen will think you look very
well, if your petals are clean. It's what you _do_, anyway, and _not_
what you wear!"
Nancy saw Peter Hyde's laughing face drop suddenly between his arms.
With quaint, childish phrasing and with dancing steps Nonie interpreted
her story to her audience. When each flower had done its part toward
preparing the Garden for the coming of the Queen, Nonie, as the old
Dandelion, admonished them to sit very still, "so as not to muss their
dresses," and then disappeared only to appear again as the stately
Queen. Like a peacock, holding an imaginary train in one hand, Nonie
strutted across the grass, now nodding graciously to right and left,
now haughtily chiding imaginary moonbeams who accompanied her.
Then--the Queen supposedly in state upon her throne--Nonie was again
the Dandelion, leading forward her sister flowers to pay court to their
Queen.
Suddenly (from the direction of Aunt Milly's chair) came a slow,
sorrowful voice that the Flowers (or at least Dandelion) lamented
loudly as Trouble. The Flowers were sadly dismayed that Trouble should
have intruded upon this festive gathering in honor of the Moon-Queen!
But the Moon-Queen implored them "not to worry a bit."
"I know all about Trouble and the harm she does! I see everything as I
ride through the sky. But, never fear, we will find a way to get rid
of her!" The Queen threw out her hand with an imperial gesture.
"Summon Youth!"
Nancy, as Youth, trying very hard not to giggle, answered the summons.
In her pink dress, a flush dying her tanned cheeks, her eyes alight
with life, she was so much the embodiment of joyous, appealing youth
that Peter Hyde, absorbedly watching, felt a catch at his heart.
Gravely the Moon-Queen touched Youth with her magic wand.
"Go out into the world and drive Trouble away! I will give you fairy
presents to help you in your fight. This," holding out a flower, "is a
magic flower. If you wear it all the time you'll remember that there's
always flowers and birds and nice things to make people happy. And
here's a fairy leaf. If you wave that in people's faces they'll all be
kind and never be cross to little children or animals or old people.
And here is a fairy ring," placing a twisted dandelion stem in Youth's
hand, "that'll make you love everybody and everybody love you. And
here is a magic coat," putting Aunt Milly's shawl over Youth's arm,
"when you wear it you'll always do beautiful things and you'll always
seem beautiful and never grow old or ugly!"
Then the Flowers, at the Queen's bidding, danced wildly about Youth to
show their joy at her coming--at least Nonie danced wildly, with utter
abandon. Forgetting her audience, she had thrown herself heart and
soul into the "game."
Again the Queen, she bade the pretty Rose step forward and take Youth
by the hand and "walk along with her so that she'll see everything
through your spectacles. I bid all _adieu_!"
After one sweeping bow Nonie had to unceremoniously leave the poor
Moon-Queen in order to become the joyous Rose to whom had been allotted
the pleasant task of accompanying Youth through her life's journey.
She caught Youth by the hand and together, amid loud applause, led
mainly by Webb and Peter Hyde, they danced away through the trees and
shrubbery to the kitchen garden beyond.
"Author! Author!" came from Peter Hyde's corner and brought Nancy and
Nonie, flushed by their play, back to the gathering under the trees.
"I'm blessed if _I_ could make head'nor tail out of any of it, but did
you see, Mary Sniggs, the way thet N'York man watched the two of them
galivantin'?"
Mrs. Sniggs discreetly snorted into her handkerchief. "That kind o'
play-actin' may be very well for Sabriny Leavitt's niece, but I don'
believe it'll do any girl any good that's gotta earn her livin'!"
Nancy, still breathless, found Peter Hyde at her side. There was an
earnestness in the gaze he kept fixed upon her that brought an added
color to her cheeks.
"Was it _dreadfully_ silly, Peter? I couldn't resist it. Could you
_see_ their faces when they watched Nonie?"
"I could only see you! I feel as though fairies _had_ been here!"
"Peter--_you're_ silly," rebuked Nancy. "Shall I give you one of my
fairy gifts? The flower--or the leaf----"
"I want the ring," he answered with provoking gravity.
"There--you shall have it! Now you will love everybody and everybody
will love you," Nancy laughed, placing the dandelion stem in his
outstretched hand.
She was tremendously glad that at that moment Theodore Hoffman joined
them--Peter Hyde had so seriously patted the pocket into which he had
placed the ring--as though he really believed it could work its magic!
She turned eagerly to the master but he spoke first.
"Tell me--I am haunted by a thousand memories--who in the world is this
strange little creature?"
Nancy told the master of Nonie, of that first night in the orchard, of
her strange gift of imagination, of her "pretend" games by which she
had persistently gilded over the very rough spots of a sordid, lonely
life.
"She is always reaching out for the spirit of the things about her and
trying to make each her own!"
"She is like a flower that has grown up among weeds," muttered the
great man, his thoughts far away, a frown wrinkling his brow.
"Sometimes, it is in such places that we find the greatest gifts. I
wonder," he gave a little start, as though bringing himself, with an
effort, back to the garden. "It's always been a hobby of mine, hunting
around in queer places for something I can give to my Art. Perhaps you
don't understand me, but, wherever I am, I am watching, watching all
the time, for a promise of talent that, if properly cultivated and
trained, will give something to the greatest of the Arts--dramatic
expression."
Thrilled, Nancy sat tongue-tied, afraid to speak. He went on: "I said
I was haunted--years ago I ran across another child, not unlike this
one. She gave rare promise of genius. I put her in my school. I had
her there several years. I looked for a great deal from her. But--she
failed me."
"Did she--die?"
The master laughed. "No, she loved a man more than she did her art. I
was jealous--unreasonable. I let her go away--heard nothing more of
her. I suppose she married. She's probably fat now, with a half-dozen
squalling babies. Yes, I was jealous--I wanted to give her to my art,
soul and body--as a fanatic would make his offering to his gods. And
this child has made me think of her again. It has been a most
interesting hour, Miss Leavitt. You say the child's head is full of
this sort of thing? H-mm."
Now the garden was filled with a babble of voices intermingled with the
clinking of spoons and dishes. Someone had overheard the great man's
praise of Nonie's "play-actin'," and the word spread quickly. Mrs.
Brown allowed it was "just spooky the way that child could make you
think she was what she wasn't" and Mrs. Slade's sister's sister-in-law
had seen Maude Adams in a play where she'd "pretended something all the
time--something 'bout Cinderella, and like as not it might have been
'bout fairies, too." Under the stimulation of iced tea and cakes and
caramel ice cream, served from delicate china, praise for Nonie grew
and the fairy leaf that Youth carried, so that "people would be kind,"
began to work its magic in the garden.
It was well toward sunset when the last guest departed. Nancy,
standing in the doorway with the empty house behind her, and before her
the deserted garden, with its chairs and tables in crazy disarray, sent
a wild little prayer down the road after the purple automobile that had
whirled away carrying the great master and her poor little play.
"_Please_ think it's good! I worked so hard."
As her eye caught the gleam of gabled housetops through the trees Nancy
suddenly pictured how, at that very moment, every home in Freedom was
echoing with the story of the party.
It had been a success! All Freedom--through the women's eyes--had been
there to see precious Aunt Milly; now they knew that Happy House was a
happy house. And, wonder of wonders, she had heard Mrs. Sniggs, in a
most friendly way, ask Liz Hopworth to drop in and show her how she
made her "plum jell."
Suddenly Nancy seemed to hear Peter Hyde saying: "I didn't see anything
but you!" How silly he'd been--putting that absurd dandelion stem into
his pocket, as though it really _had_ some magic! Then, with quite
unaccountable haste, as though to run away from her own meditations,
Nancy rushed to the kitchen and begged B'lindy to let her help "clear
up."