The cement floor had been down a week and was as hard as a rock, when
one day two or three wagon-loads of things arrived with a note from
Graham to Mrs. Hollister to say that he would be glad if these might be
stored in one corner of the basement floor, where they would be out of
her way and not take up too much room.
Harley and George went down to look them over that evening.
"He said something about some things being taken from the office
building," said Harley, kicking a pile of iron pipes with his toe.
"These don't look like any old things that have been used," said George
thoughtfully. "They look perfectly new." Then he studied them a few
minutes more from another angle, and shut his lips judiciously. He
belonged to the boy species that has learned to "shut up and saw wood,"
whatever that expression may mean. If anything was to come out of that
pile of iron in the future, he did not mean to break confidence with
anybody's secrets. He walked away whistling and said nothing further
about them.
The next day Mrs. Graham came down upon the Hollisters in her
limousine, and an exquisite toilet of organdie and ribbons. She was
attended by Elizabeth, wild with delight over getting home again. She
begged Mrs. Hollister very charmingly and sincerely to take care of
Elizabeth for three or four weeks, while she and her husband were away,
and to take her entire family down to the shore and occupy their
cottage, which had been closed all summer and needed opening and
airing. She said that nothing would please Elizabeth so much as to
have them all her guests during September. The maids were there, with
nothing to do but look after them, and would just love to serve them;
it really would be a great favor to her if she could know that
Elizabeth was getting a little salt air under such favorable
conditions. She was so genuine in her request and suggested so
earnestly that Shirley and George needed the change during their
vacation, and could just as well come down every night and go up every
morning for a week or two more after the vacations were over, that Mrs.
Hollister actually promised to consider it and talk it over with
Shirley when she came home. Elizabeth and Carol nearly went into
spasms of joy over the thought of all they could do down at the shore
together.
When Shirley came home she found the whole family quite upset
discussing the matter. Carol had brought out all the family wardrobe
and was showing how she could wash this, and dye that, and turn this
skirt upside down, and put a piece from the old waist in there to make
the lower part flare; and Harley was telling how he could get the man
next door to look after the hens and pigeons, and there was nothing
needing much attention in the garden now, for the corn was about over
except the last picking, which wasn't ripe yet.
Mrs. Hollister was saying that they ought really to stay at home and
look up another place to live during the winter, and Carol was pleading
that another place would be easier found when the weather was cooler
anyway, and that Shirley was just awfully tired and needed a change.
Shirley's cheeks grew pink in spite of the headache which she had been
fighting all day, when she heard of the invitation, and sat down to
think it out. Was this, then, another of the kind schemes of her kind
friend to make the way easier for her? What right had she to take all
this? Why was he doing it? Why were the rest of the family? Did they
really need some one to take care of Elizabeth? But of course it was a
wonderful opportunity, and one that her mother at least should not let
slip by. And Doris! Think of Doris playing in the sand at the seaside!
Supper was flung onto the table that night any way it happened, for
they were all too excited to know what they were about. Carol got
butter twice and forgot to cut the bread, and Harley poured milk into
the already filled water-pitcher. They were even too excited to eat.
Graham arrived with Elizabeth early in the evening to add his pleading
to his mother's, and before he left he had about succeeded in getting
Mrs. Hollister's promise that she would go.
Shirley's vacation began the first of September, and George had asked
for his at the same time so that they could enjoy it together. Each
had two weeks. Graham said that the cost of going back and forth to
the city for the two would be very little. By the next morning they
had begun to say what they would take along, and to plan what they
would do with the dog. It was very exciting. There was only a week to
get ready, and Carol wanted to make bathing-suits for everybody.
Graham came again that night with more suggestions. There were plenty
of bathing-suits down at the cottage, of all sizes and kinds. No need
to make bathing-suits. The dog, of course, was to go along. He needed
the change as much as anybody, and they needed him there. That breed
of dog was a great swimmer. He would take care of the children when
they went in bathing. How would Mrs. Hollister like to have one of the
old Graham servants come over to sleep at the barn and look after
things while they were gone? The man had really nothing to do at home
while everybody was away, as the whole corps of servants would be
there, and this one would enjoy coming out to the country. He had a
brother living on a place about a mile away. As for the trip down
there, Graham would love to take them all in the big touring-car with
Elizabeth. He had been intending to take her down that way, and there
was no reason in the world why they should not all go along. They
would start Saturday afternoon as soon as Shirley and George were free,
and be down before bedtime. It would be cool and delightful journeying
at that hour, and a great deal pleasanter than the train.
So one by one the obstructions and hindrances were removed from their
path, and it was decided that the Hollisters were to go to the seashore.
At last the day came.
Shirley and George went off in the morning shouting last directions
about things. They were always having to go to their work whatever was
happening. It was sometimes hard on them, particularly this day when
everything was so delightfully exciting.
The old Graham servant arrived about three o'clock in the afternoon,
and proved himself invaluable in doing the little last things without
being told. Mrs. Hollister had her first gleam of an idea of what it
must be to have plenty of perfectly trained servants about to
anticipate one's needs. He entered the barn as if barns were his
native heath, and moved about with the ease and unobtrusiveness that
marks a perfect servant, but with none of the hauteur and disdain that
many of those individuals entertain toward all whom they consider poor
or beneath them in any way. He had a kindly face, and seemed to
understand just exactly what was to be done. Things somehow moved more
smoothly after he arrived.
At four o'clock came Graham with the car and a load of long linen
dust-cloaks and veils. The Hollisters donned them and bestowed
themselves where they were told. The servant stowed away the wraps and
suitcases; Star mounted the seat beside Harley, and they were ready.
They turned to look back at the barn as the car started. The old
servant was having a little trouble with the big door, trying to shut
it. "That door is a nuisance," said Graham as they swept away from the
curb. "It must be fixed. It is no fit door for a barn anyway." Then
they curved up around Allister Avenue and left the barn far out of
sight.
They were going across country to the Graham home to pick up Elizabeth.
It was a wonderful experience for them, that beautiful ride in the late
afternoon; and when they swept into the great gates, and up the broad
drive to the Graham mansion, and stopped under the porte-cochère, Mrs.
Hollister was quite overcome with the idea of being beholden to people
who lived in such grandeur as this. To think she had actually invited
their son to dine in a barn with her!
Elizabeth came rushing out eagerly, all ready to start, and climbed in
beside Carol. Even George, who was usually silent when she was about,
gave her a grin of welcome. The father and mother came out to say
good-by, gave them good wishes, and declared they were perfectly happy
to leave their daughter in such good hands. Then the car curved about
the great house, among tennis courts, green-houses, garage, stable, and
what not, and back to the pike again, leaping out upon the perfect road
as if it were as excited as the children.
Two more stops to pick up George, who was getting off early, and
Shirley, who was through at five o'clock, and then they threaded their
way out of the city, across the ferry, through another city, and out
into the open country, dotted all along the way with clean, pretty
little towns.
They reached a lovely grove at sundown and stopped by the way to have
supper. Graham got down and made George help him get out the big
hamper.
There was a most delectable lunch; sandwiches of delicate and unknown
condiments, salad as bewildering, soup that had been kept hot in a
thermos bottle, served in tiny white cups, iced tea and ice-cream
meringues from another thermos compartment, and plenty of delicious
little cakes, olives, nuts, bonbons, and fruit. It seemed a wonderful
supper to them all, eaten out there under the trees, with the birds
beginning their vesper songs and the stars peeping out slyly. Then
they packed up their dishes and hurried on their beautiful way, a
silver thread of a moon coming out to make the scene more lovely.
Doris was almost asleep when at last they began to hear the booming of
the sea and smell the salt breeze as it swept back inland; but she
roused up and opened wide, mysterious eyes, peering into the new
darkness, and murmuring softly: "I yant to see ze osun! I yant to see
the gate bid watter!"
Stiff, bewildered, filled with ecstasy, they finally unloaded in front
of a big white building that looked like a hotel. They tried to see
into the deep, mysterious darkness across the road, where boomed a
great voice that called them, and where dashing spray loomed high like
a waving phantom hand to beckon them now and again, and far-moving
lights told of ships and a world beyond the one they knew,--a wide,
limitless thing like eternity, universe, chaos.
With half-reluctant feet they turned away from the mysterious unseen
lure and let themselves be led across an unbelievably wide veranda into
the bright light of a hall, where everything was clean and shining, and
a great fireplace filled with friendly flames gave cheer and welcome.
The children stood bewildered in the brightness while two strange
serving-maids unfastened their wraps and dust-cloaks and helped them
take off their hats. Then they all sat around the fire, for Graham had
come in by this time, and the maids brought trays of some delicious
drink with little cakes and crackers, and tinkling ice, and straws to
drink with. Doris almost fell asleep again, and was carried up-stairs
by Shirley and put to bed in a pretty white crib she was too sleepy to
look at, while Carol, Elizabeth, George, and Harley went with Graham
across the road to look at the black, yawning cavern they called ocean,
and to have the shore light-houses pointed out to them and named one by
one.
They were all asleep at last, a little before midnight, in spite of the
excitement over the spacious rooms, and who should have which. Think
of it! Thirty rooms in the house, and every one as pretty as every
other one! What luxury! And nobody to occupy them but themselves!
Carol could hardly get to sleep. She felt as if she had dropped into a
novel and was living it.
When Graham came out of his room the next morning the salt breeze swept
invitingly through the hall and showed him the big front door of the
upper piazza open and some one standing in the sunlight, with light,
glowing garments, gazing at the sea in rapt enjoyment. Coming out
softly, he saw that it was Shirley dressed in white, with a ribbon of
blue at her waist and a soft pink color in her cheeks, looking off to
sea.
He stood for a moment to enjoy the picture, and said in his heart that
sometime, if he got his wish, he would have her painted so by some
great artist, with just that little simple white dress and blue ribbon,
her round white arm lifted, her small hand shading her eyes, the
sunlight burnishing her brown hair into gold. He could scarcely
refrain from going to her and telling her how beautiful she was. But
when he stepped quietly up beside her only his eyes spoke, and brought
the color deeper into her cheeks; and so they stood for some minutes,
looking together and drawing in the wonder of God's sea.
"This is the first time I've ever seen it, you know," spoke Shirley at
last, "and I'm so glad it was on Sunday morning. It will always make
the day seem more holy and the sea more wonderful to think about. I
like best things to happen on Sunday, don't you, because that is the
best day of all?"
Graham looked at the sparkling sea all azure and pearls, realized the
Sabbath quiet, and marvelled at the beauty of the soul of the girl,
even as her feeling about it all seemed to enter into and become a part
of himself.
"Yes, I do," said he. "I never did before, but I do now,--and always
shall," he added under his breath.
That was almost as wonderful a Sabbath as the one they had spent in the
woods a couple of weeks before. They walked and talked by the sea, and
they went to a little Episcopal chapel, where the windows stood open
for the chanting of the waves and the salt of the breeze to come in
freely, and then they went out and walked by the sea again. Wherever
they went, whether resting in some of the many big rockers on the broad
verandas or walking on the hard smooth sand, or sitting in some cozy
nook by the waves, they felt the same deep sympathy, the same
conviction that their thoughts were one, the same wonderful thrill of
the day and each other's nearness.
Somehow in the new environment Shirley forgot for a little that this
young man was not of her world, that he was probably going back soon to
the city to enter into a whirl of the winter's season in society, that
other girls would claim his smiles and attentions, and she would likely
be forgotten. She lost the sense of it entirely and companioned with
him as joyously as if there had never been anything to separate them.
Her mother, looking on, sighed, feared, smiled, and sighed again.
They walked together in the sweet darkness beside the waves that
evening, and he told her how when he was a little boy he wanted to
climb up to the stars and find God, but later how he thought the stars
and God were myths like Santa Claus, and that the stars were only
electric lights put up by men and lighted from a great switch every
night, and when they didn't shine somebody had forgotten to light them.
He told her many things about himself that he had never told to any one
before, and she opened her shy heart to him, too.
Then they planned what they would do next week when he came back. He
told her he must go back to the city in the morning to see his father
and mother off and attend to a few matters of business at the office.
It might be two or three days before he could return, but after that he
was coming down to take a little vacation himself if she didn't mind,
and they would do a lot of delightful things together: row, fish, go
crabbing, and he would teach her to swim and show her all the walks and
favorite places where he used to go as a boy. Reluctantly they went
in, his fingers lingering about hers for just a second at the door,
vibrating those mysterious heart-strings of hers again, sweeping
dearest music from them, and frightening her with joy that took her
half the night to put down.