THE SILVER IMAGES
"Didn't you ever hear of us Jarleys?" Polly first of all demanded.
"Only as being interested in the wax-work business," replied Wyn, with
twinkling eyes.
"I--I guess father never made wax-work," said Polly, hesitatingly.
She was an innocent sort of girl, who evidently lacked many advantages
of education and reading that Wyn and her friends had enjoyed as a
matter of course.
"Well, I never heard the name before to-day--not _your_ name, nor
your father's," Wyn said.
"Well, we used to live here."
"In Denton?"
"Yes, ma'am----"
"Will you stop that?" cried Wyn. "I am Wyn Mallory, I tell you."
"All right, Wyn. It's a pretty name. I'll be glad to use it," returned
Polly.
"Prove it by using it altogether," commanded Wyn. "Now, what about your
father?"
"I--I can't tell you much about it--much of the particulars, I mean,"
said the girl from Lake Honotonka, diffidently. "I don't really know
them. Father never speaks of it much. But even as a tiny girl mother
explained to me that when folks said father had done wrong I must deny
it. That it was not so. It was only circumstances that made him appear
in the wrong. And--you know, Wyn--your mother wouldn't lie to you!"
"Of course not!" cried Wyn, warmly. "Of course not!"
"Well, then, you'll have to believe just what I tell you. Father was in
some business deal with a man here in Denton, and something went wrong.
The other man accused father of being dishonest. Father could not defend
himself. Circumstances were dead against him. And it worried mother so
that it made her sick.
"So we all left town. Father had very little money, and he built a shack
up there in the woods near Honotonka. We're just 'squatters' up there.
But gradually father got a few boats, and built a float, and made enough
in the summer from fishermen and campers to support us. Of course,
mother being sick so many years before she died, kept us very poor. I
only go to the district school winters. Then I have to walk four miles
each way, for we own no horse. Summers I help father with the boats."
"That's where you got such palms! cried Wyn, touching her new friend's
calloused hands again.
"It's rowing does it. But I don't mind. I love the water, you see."
"So do I. I've got a canoe. I'm captain of a girls' canoe club."
"That's nice," said Polly. "I suppose when you take up boating for just
a sport it's lots better than trying to make one's living out of it."
"Well, tell me more," urged Wyn. "What are you in town for now? Why did
I find you crying here on the bench?"
"A man hurt me by talking harshly about poor father," said the girl from
Lake Honotonka.
"Come on! tell me," urged Wyn, giving her a little shake. Polly suddenly
threw an arm about the town girl and hugged her tightly.
"I _do_ love you, Wyn Mallory," she sobbed. "I--I wish you were my
sister. I get so lonely sometimes up there in the woods, for there's
only father and me now. And this past winter he was very sick with
rheumatic fever. You see, there was an accident."
"He met with an accident, you mean?"
"Yes. It was awful--or it might have been awful for him if he and I had
not had signals that we use when there's a fog on the lake. I'll tell
you.
"You see, there is a man named Shelton--Dr. Shelton--who lives in one of
the grand houses at Braisely Park--you know, that is the rich people's
summer colony at the upper end of the lake?"
"I know about it," said Wyn. "Although I never was there."
"Well, Dr. Shelton had his motor boat down at our float. He left it
there himself, and he told father to go to the express office at Meade's
Forge on a certain day and get a box that would be there addressed to
Dr. Shelton. It was a valuable box.
"When father went for it the expressman would not give it up until he
had telephoned to Dr. Shelton and recognized the doctor's voice over the
wire. It seems that that box was packed with ancient silver images that
had been found in a ruined temple in Yucatan, and had been sent to Dr.
Shelton by the man who found them. They claim they were worth at the
least five thousand dollars.
"The doctor had a party at his house right then, he said over the
telephone, and he wanted father to come up the lake with the box. He
wanted to display his antique treasures to his friends.
"Now, it was a dreadfully bad day. After father had started down to the
Forge in the motor boat he knew that a storm was coming. And ahead of it
was a thick fog. He told Dr. Shelton over the 'phone that it was a bad
time to make the trip the whole length of Lake Honotonka.
"The doctor would not listen to any excuses, however; and it was his
boat that was being risked. And his silver images, too! Those rich
people don't care much about a poor man's life, and if father had
refused to risk his on the lake in the storm Dr. Shelton would have
given his trade to some other boatkeeper after that.
"So father started in the _Bright Eyes_. He did not shoot right up
the middle of the lake, as he would have done had the day been fair. The
lake is twenty miles broad, you know, in the middle. So he kept near our
side--the south side it is--and did not lose sight of the shore at
first.
"But at Gannet Island he knew he had better run outside. You see, the
strait between the island and the shore is narrow and, when the wind is
high, it sometimes is dangerous in there. Why, ten years ago, one of the
little excursion steamers that used to ply the lake then, got caught in
that strait and was wrecked!
"So father _had_ to go outside of Gannet Island. The fog shut down
as thick as a blanket before he more than sighted the end of the island.
He kept on, remembering what Dr. Shelton had said, and that is where he
made a mistake," said Polly, shaking her head. "He ought to have turned
right around and come back to our landing."
"Oh, dear me! what happened to him?" cried Wyn, eagerly.
"The fog came down, thicker and thicker," proceeded the boatman's
daughter. "And the wind rode down upon father, too. Wind and fog
together are not usual; but when the two combine it is much worse than
either alone. You see, the thick mist swirling into father's eyes,
driven head-on by the wind, blinded him. He steered a shade too near the
shore.
"Suddenly the _Bright Eyes_ struck. A motor boat, going head-on
upon a snag, can be easily wrecked. The boat struck and stuck, and
father leaped up to shut off the engine.
"As he did so, something swished through the blinding fog and struck
him, carrying him backward over the stern of the boat. Perhaps it was
the loss of his weight that allowed the _Bright Eyes_ to scrape
over the snag. At least, she did so as father plunged into the lake, and
as he sank he knew that the boat, with her engine at half speed, was
tearing away across the lake.
"It was the drooping limb of a tree that had torn father from the stern
of the motor boat," continued Polly Jarley. "It may have been a big root
of the same tree, under water, that had proved the finish of the boat.
For nobody ever saw the _Bright Eyes_ again. She just ran off at a
tangent, into the middle of the lake, somewhere, we suppose, and filled
and sank."
"Oh, dear me! And your father?" asked Wyn, anxiously.
"He got ashore on the island. Then he signalled to me, and I went off
during a lull in the storm, and got him. He went to bed, and it was
three months before he was up and around again.
"He suffered dreadfully with rheumatic fever," continued Polly, sadly.
"And all the time Dr. Shelton was talking just as mean about him as he
could. He didn't believe his story. He even said that he thought my
father took the motor boat down the river somewhere and sold it. And the
way he talked about that box of silver images----"
"Oh, oh!" cried Wyn. "I'd forgotten about them. Of course they were
lost, too?"
"Sunk somewhere in Lake Honotonka," declared Polly. "Father knows no
more about where the boat lies than Dr. Shelton himself. But there are
always people ready and willing to pick up the evil that is said about a
person and help circulate it.
"While father was flat on his back, folks were talking about him. We had
to raise money on the boats to pay for our food and father's medicine.
If we don't have a good season this summer we will be unable to pay off
the chattel mortgage next winter, and will lose the boats. I tell you,
Miss Wyn, it is _hard_."
"You poor, dear girl!" exclaimed Wyn. "I should think it _was_
hard. And that mean man accuses your father----"
"Well, you see, there was father's past record against him. The story of
his trouble here in Denton followed him into the woods, of course. If
anybody gets mad at us up at the Forge, they throw the whole thing up to
us. I--I _hate_ it there," sobbed the boatkeeper's daughter.
"And yet, it is harder on poor father. He is straight, but everything
has been against him. I saw he felt dreadfully these past few days
because I need some decent clothes. And there is no money to buy any.
"So I thought I would come to town and see some old friends of mother's
who used to come and see us years ago. Yes, there were a few people who
stuck to mother, even if they did not quite approve of poor father. But,
when I paddled 'way down here----"
"Not in a canoe?" cried Wyn.
"Yes, I came down very easily yesterday evening and stopped at a
boatman's house on the edge of town. I shall go back again to-day. The
Wintinooski isn't kicking up much of a rumpus just now. The spring
floods are about all over."
"But you must be a splendid hand with a paddle," said Wyn. "It's a long
way to the lake."
"Oh! I don't mind it," said Polly. "Or, I _wouldn't_ mind it if it
had done me the least good to come down here," and she sighed.
"You are disappointed?" queried Wyn.
"Dreadfully! I did not find mother's old friends. I had not heard from
them for two or three years, and found that they were away--nobody knows
where. I did not know but I might get work here in town for a few weeks,
and live with these old friends, and so earn some money. I am so shabby!
And father isn't fit to be seen.
"And then--then there was a man in town who used to befriend mother. I
know when I was quite a little girl, the year after we had gone to the
woods to live, father was ill for a long time and mother had to have
things. She went to this storekeeper in Denton and he let her have
things on account and we paid him afterward. Oh, we paid him--every
cent!" declared Polly, again wiping her eyes.
"And I hoped he would--for mother's sake--help us again. I went to him.
I--I reminded him of how father once worked for him, and that he knew
mother. But he was angry about something--he would not listen--he would
neither give me work nor let me have goods charged. I--I--well, it just
broke me down, Wyn Mallory, and I came here to cry it out."
"It's a shame!" exclaimed Wyn. "I am just as sorry for you as I can be.
And I believe that your father is perfectly honest and that he never in
his life intended to defraud anybody."
It was that blessed _tact_ that made Wynifred Mallory say that. It
was the sure way to Polly Jarley's heart; and Wyn's words and way opened
the door wide and Polly took her in.
"You--you _blessed_ creature!" cried the boatman's daughter. "I
know you must have been 'specially sent to comfort me. I _was_ so
miserable."
"Of course I was sent," declared Wyn. She did not propose to tell her
new acquaintance that she had observed her in Erad's store and had
looked for her all over Market Street.
"Such things are meant to be. If we trust to God we surely shall have
release from our difficulties. That is just as sure as the day follows
the night," declared Wyn, with simple, straight-forward faith.
"And just see how it is proved in this case. You were in trouble, and
sat here crying, and needed somebody to help you. And I came along
perfectly willing and able to help you, and you are going to be helped."
"I _am_ helped!" declared Polly. "You just put the courage back
into me. I didn't know what to do----"
"Do you know any better now?" demanded Wyn, quickly.
"We--ell, I----"
"That doesn't sound as though you had _quite_ made up your mind,"
said Wyn, with a little laugh.
"Never mind. I can stand even going back home with my hands empty,
better than before I met you," declared Polly, bravely.
"But you won't go back home empty-handed."
"Oh, Wyn! Can you get me work?"
"No, not here. Nor do I believe you ought to leave your father alone up
there for so long. I expect he is not very well yet?"
"No. He is not," admitted Polly.
"Then, you go home. That is the best place for you, anyway. But before
you go you shall make such purchases as you may need----"
Polly drew away from her along the seat, and her gray eyes grew
brighter. "Oh, Miss Mallory!" she murmured. "Don't do _that_."
"Don't do what?" demanded Wyn.
"Don't spoil it all."
"Spoil what-all?" cried Wyn, in exasperation. "I'm not going to spoil
anything. But you listen to me. This is sense."
"I--I couldn't take charity from _you_--a stranger."
"I offer to lend you twenty dollars. You can pay it back when you
choose."
"Twenty dollars! You lend me twenty dollars?"
"Yes. I have quite some spending money given to me, and I have been
saving nearly all of it for some time. So I can easily spare it."
"But I don't know when I can repay you."
"I can tell you, then. You can pay me back this very summer."
"This summer, miss?"
"Don't call me 'miss'!" cried Wyn, in greater exasperation. "I have told
you my name is 'Wyn'! And I mean exactly what I say. This is a perfectly
straight business proposition," and she laughed her full-throated laugh
that made even Polly Jarley, in her trouble, smile.
"Then your business, Wyn Mallory, must be the saving of people from
trouble--is that it? For there is no reason in what you say you will
do--Oh, I can't accept it. It would be charity!" cried Polly, again
clasping Wyn's hands.
"It is not charity," said Wyn, firmly, opening her purse. "And I'll
quickly show you why it is not. You see, Polly Jolly--and I want you to
smile at me and look as though you fitted that name. You see, I am
captain of the Go-Ahead Club."
"The Go-Ahead Club?"
"Yes. We are six girls. We each own canoes. And we are just _crazy_
to spend next summer under canvas."
"You are going camping?"
"That is our intention," Wyn said, nodding.
"Oh, then! come up to Lake Honotonka," cried Polly. "I can show you
beautiful places to camp, and we can have lots of fun----"
"That likewise is our intention," broke in Wyn. "We have just decided to
camp for the summer on the shore of the lake. Rather, our parents,
guardians, and the cat, have finally agreed to our plans. We shall come
up there the week after the Academy closes."
"Now, we want you, Polly, to find us the very best camping place, to
arrange everything for us, and don't have it too far from your place,
and from Meade's Forge. I expect the Busters will camp on one of the
islands. The Busters, you see, are our boy friends who are likewise
going to the lake. They were there last year with Professor Skillings."
"I remember them," said Polly, wonderingly. "And you and your girl
friends are coming?"
"Just the surest thing you know, Polly," declared Wyn. "So you are going
to take this twenty dollars," and she suddenly thrust the bill into the
other girl's hand and closed her fingers over it. "Then, next summer, we
shall let you pay it back in perfectly legitimate charges, for we'll
want you and your father to help us a good deal.
"Now, what say, Polly Jolly? Will you please let your face fit your
name--as I have rechristened you? Smile, my dear--smile!"
"I could cry again, Wyn--you are so kind!" half sobbed the other girl.
"Now, you stop all that foolishness--a great, big girl like you!"
exclaimed Wyn. "Turn off the sprinkler, as Dave Shepard says. Get right
up now and go briskly about your buying. And write to me when you get
home and write just as often as you can till we meet at the lake this
summer."
"You dear!" ejaculated Polly.
"You're another. How will I address you--at the Forge?"
"Yes, and you must give me your address," said the boatman's daughter,
eagerly.
Wyn did so. The two girls, such recent but already such warm friends,
kissed each other and Polly Jarley went briskly away toward Market
Street. Wyn stopped on the bench for several minutes and watched the
girl from Lake Honotonka walk away, while a smile wreathed her lips and
a warm light lingered in her brown eyes.