A “STOOT HERT” AND A “STEY BRAE”
“I’m going up the road to look for them!” called Jack, through the open
window of Chipmunk Lodge. He had been kept out of the rescue party
sorely against his will.
“I’m going too!” Jean called back. The early breakfast was over. Out she
rushed, and they hurried together up the forest road.
Before they had gone far the stage came into view. Jean darted forward
with a cry of joy, for in front she saw Carol, waving her hand. The boy
and girl dashed up to the wagon. There on a mattress lay Douglas,
watched over by Dr. Allen, Tom Clinton and Court. The stage halted. In a
flash Jean had climbed up and was in Carol’s arms. Jack mounted the step
at the back and his face grew ashy as he looked at Douglas lying so
white and still.
“Is he dead?” he asked in a low voice.
“No more than you are!” answered Court. “Don’t talk. We’ve got to keep
him quiet.”
The hush of awe that rested on the group of waiting girls, made the
welcome at the Lodge a strangely quiet one. “Is he living?” was the
question that the anxious faces asked. Carol sprang down as the wagon
stopped, and was caught by Eunice in a quick embrace.
The largest bedroom had been prepared for the boy, for Mrs. Brook was
determined to nurse him, herself. Court and Tom carried the mattress
into the cottage. Jean was standing so near that they touched her in
passing. She was silent, but Douglas turned his head weakly toward her
and smiled.
“Hello, Jean,” he murmured faintly.
The smile with which she answered him made her sorrowful face radiant.
His hand lay on the edge of the mattress and she gave it one soft loving
squeeze.
Dr. Allen worked over his patient with Mrs. Brook and Court for
assistants. Jack stationed himself outside the bedroom door, awaiting
the verdict. At last Court came out, whispered to his brother and went
back again. And Jack left his post to report gloomily, “He’s
compound-fractured his leg and broken his collar-bone, and his head’s
hurt awfully!” After that he did not leave the door till his brother
reappeared, saying, “Come in and have a look at Douglas.”
Mrs. Brook left the sick room as Jack entered it, and joined the group
of anxious girls. “The doctor is all through, and Douglas is in much
less pain now,” said she. “But the house must be kept very quiet, and I
must not keep any larger family here than is necessary. So most of you
must go home to-day, just as we planned, with Fräulein.”
“Mother, dearie, _I_ can’t leave you!” began Cecily.
“You don’t mean to send _me_ home!” cried Carol. “Because I’m not going.
I shall stay right here and help you nurse Douglas.”
“Don’t make _me_ go!” begged Jean.
“Wait, girls,—wait till you hear me out,” said Mrs. Brook. “I can’t
spare _you_, Cecily. I shall engage a woman from the village to do the
cooking, but you will have to stay and keep house. And I don’t mean to
send _you_ home, either, Carol. You’re not fit to travel to-day. I shall
put you right to bed, you poor tired-out child, and when you’re rested
you shall help me in the nursing. But all the rest must go.”
“I _can’t_ leave Carol!” Eunice protested.
“Stella needs you more,” said Mrs. Brook. “I shall put her in your
special care for the journey home.”
“Don’t send _me_ away,—don’t!” Jean implored. “I won’t be one bit of
trouble! I know I can help you! _Please_ let me stay!”
“Yes, do let her stay!” urged Carol. “She can help us beautifully. I’ll
be fearfully lonely if I have to lose my chum and my Little Sister, too!
Let me keep her.”
“Jean will have to stay, Auntie,” put in Court, who had come into the
room in time to hear part of the discussion. “If they catch Tony, she
and Carol and Cecily will all be summoned as witnesses. Can’t we send
Jack home in her place? I’m going to stay here myself, and help you till
Douglas is out of the woods. But Jack had better go back with the girls.
They’ll need him.”
With the law itself demanding Jean’s presence, Mrs. Brook was forced to
yield.
“I’ll take care of Nanno for you, Jean,” said Betty.
“We’ll do it together,” said Frances. “I’ve never done anything worth a
cent yet, but I’m going to _now_!”
By noon the carriages were at the door, and the travellers drove away,
the girls throwing back kisses, and all smiling so bravely that no one
would have guessed what a weight lay on those young hearts.
Douglas was in a high fever by the next morning and delirium had come
on. During the anxious days that followed, Carol, as assistant nurse,
was constantly at his bedside, while Court was always at hand ready for
any service. The two battle maids kept their silver swords unsheathed,
and with many a brave thrust made rifts in the cloud of trouble,—Jean
always eager to fly on errands, and Cecily proving herself a born
housewife, as she helped and directed Tillie Blungie, the
maid-of-all-work.
On that first morning a ray of sunlight broke the gloom. Court, who had
been mysteriously absent for two hours or more, returned, in his hand a
tiny gold watch fastened to a white enameled pin. Jean seized the watch
and kissed it, and her cry of joy brought Cecily from the kitchen.
“Well, Tony’s caught, and on his way to jail,” said the young man
triumphantly, and to his excited audience of two he told of the arrest.
“A guide brought word to the constable this morning that he’d just
passed a fellow answering Tony’s description on the Chapel Pond road. So
the constable sent for me to come along and identify him and we went and
caught up with him near the pond. It was our man sure enough! He was
limping along, quite lame,—he must have stayed hiding in the woods all
yesterday. He turned around just before we reached him, and you ought to
have seen him when he recognized me! I saw him drop something into the
bushes, and I looked and found it was the two watches. He declared _he_
hadn’t dropped them,—said he’d never seen them! He’s trying to bluff it
out still.”
“Where’s Douglas’s watch?” asked Jean.
“The constable has it. He’s going to take Tony before the justice of the
peace. If he’s held to the Grand Jury they’ll keep the watch for an
exhibit till everything’s over.”
“They’ll put him in prison, won’t they?” asked Cecily.
“If he’s brought to trial, and there’s hardly a doubt he will be,
there’s enough evidence to send him to State’s Prison for assault. By
the way, there was a party of men on the Gothics just when he was
starting for the slides. They talked with him, and their guide
identified him just now.”
“Those must have been the men we saw on the mountain,” said Jean.
“Yes; they’ll have plenty of witnesses. We’ll all have to pay a visit to
the Justice before long.” And, a day or two later, the visit was paid.
Douglas made a brave fight for life, and one morning Court came from his
night vigil by the bedside, to say, “He’s better! The fever’s going down
and he’s sleeping like a baby.” The boy awoke with the fever gone, but
Dr. Allen said that it would be a long time before he was well and
months before he regained his full strength.
One afternoon Jean electrified Carol with the announcement, “I’ve got a
situation!”
“What under the sun—!” began Carol.
“Why, you know,” Jean continued eagerly, “It’ll be ever so long before
Douglas can earn his living again. Well, I was trying to think how I
could earn some money for him, and as I was up at the Inn, mailing the
letters, I saw Mrs. Elton’s children squabbling. So I told them a story
and got them good again, and then we played _Witch_. We had a beautiful
time! And Mrs. Elton came out and said she wished I was their sister!
She said their nurse didn’t know how to amuse them, and she couldn’t
feel happy going off on excursions and leaving them behind. And then I
told her I wanted to earn some money for Douglas, and I asked her if
she’d be willing to hire _me_ to amuse Dicky and Marguerite.”
“Give me the lavender salts before I faint away!” gasped Carol.
“And she was perfectly delighted,” Jean went on, “and she told some
other ladies, and they said they wished I’d amuse their children too. So
I’m going there every morning to play with them from nine to half-past
twelve. I’ve got four girls and two boys, and I’m going to have fifty
cents a day for each one, and we’re going to play games and act Mother
Goose rhymes, and—”
Jean got no further for Carol pulled the breadwinner into her lap and
hugged her tight. “You precious little Jeanie Queen! You’re just a
bundle of _Caritas_! You little mother with four girls and two boys! I
never knew anything so dear as you in all my life!”
The happy work proved a godsend both to Jean and to the little people,
who adored their new playmate. The flock increased from six to eight and
Jean came to be known as the little “old woman who lived in the shoe”;
and great was her pride when she brought home her first week’s
salary,—twenty dollars!
A day or two after Jean was launched in her profession, Dr. Allen said
to her, “You and Douglas must be great chums. He’s been talking about
you, and now he’s asking to see you. I think I’ll have to let you pay
him a call every day.” He led her into the room where Douglas lay, too
weak to raise his head from the pillow. The boy’s thin face still bore
traces of the injuries it had received, but the bright smile that she
knew so well broke over it as she came in.
“Don’t I look pretty, Jean?” he asked. “I got nicely bunged up, didn’t
I?” His voice was faint but it had the old merry ring.
She knelt down by the bed. “I wanted to come in dreadfully before,” said
she. “Only they wouldn’t let me. But the doctor says I may come in and
see you every day now.”
Douglas’s eyes sparkled. “Bully for doc!” he murmured feebly, and he lay
smiling contentedly, not strong enough for many words, until the doctor
announced, “Time’s up.”
“Here I am again,” said Jean, coming into the room a few days later.
“You look ever so much better now, Douglas.”
“Oh, I’m in great shape to-day,” he answered brightly.
“I’ll leave you in charge, Jean,” said Carol. “I must get the beef-tea.”
“I tell you she’s a dandy nurse!” said Douglas, as Carol left the room.
“It doesn’t seem as if she belonged down here, does it? She’s so
stunning and beautiful and sky-high above us all! A—a—a sort of an
angel!”
“Oh, lovely!” laughed Jean. “I’m going to tell her she’s a
sky-high-above-us sort of an angel!”
“Don’t you do it!” said Douglas, reddening. “She told me what a regular
brick you were too. She said you wanted to go down the slides after me,
yourself!”
“It was all my fault!” said Jean.
“It wasn’t either! You tried to keep me back! But it’s funny the way you
forget when you’re ill. All I can remember is that when I got near Tony
he was looking at something in his hand, and when he saw me he popped it
into his pocket, and I was sure it was the watch. And then we climbed
down together, and when he found he could get along he began to get
ugly. He said you and I had told people he had set the woods afire, and
he was going to pay me back right then. I was mad, too, by that time,
and told him he’d stolen your watch. He must have struck me just then,
for that’s the last I remember.”
“Oh, I don’t see how he could have been so cruel, when you went down to
help him!” said Jean.
“I’d like to have a look at my watch again,” said Douglas presently. “It
was my grandfather’s. Did I ever show you the Scotch motto inside
it,—’Pit a stoot hert tae a stey brae’?”
“Why, how queer!” exclaimed Jean. “We have _my_ grandfather’s watch and
it has the same motto!”
“That’s funny! You know what it means, don’t you?” said Douglas. “Put a
stout heart to a stiff hill. Good motto for a fellow that’s got to fight
his own way, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and it just suits you now—you’re so brave and patient all the
time.”
* * * * *
That afternoon Mrs. Brook had a dismal letter from Fräulein Bunsen, now
housekeeper at Huairarwee. Marie, the cook, had threatened to leave if
“M’dame” did not speedily resume the reins of government.
“What shall I do?” said Mrs. Brook. “I’m needed there and I’m needed
here.”
Then Carol settled the difficulty like the wise lass that she was. “Of
course you can go home, Motherling!” said she. “If Jean and I aren’t
able to take care of Douglas, now he’s so much better, we might as well
go back to our baby carriages. Haven’t we Tillie to help us?”
“But, my child—” began Mrs. Brook.
“Motherling, beloved, I am _not_ a child. I’m an experienced grown-up!”
said Carol. And when the question was submitted to Dr. Allen he took her
part.
“I’ll tell you how we’ll fix it,” said he. “I’ll send for Grandma Holly.
She’s a dear old lady, and the nurse for the whole district. I’ll keep
Miss Carol for head nurse, but Grandma and Tillie can do the hardest
work. Mrs. Brook, you needn’t worry about your girls a bit with Grandma
to take care of them.”
So Mrs. Brook waited only till the first of September, on which day
Court drove Carol, Cecily and Jean to the county town to testify at the
hearing before the Grand Jury. The girls stood the ordeal bravely,
giving their testimony with a clearness that won them praise. The next
day Mrs. Brook and Cecily, with Court, whose services were no longer
needed, set out for Halcyon, and Mrs. Holly was installed at Chipmunk
Lodge. She was a brisk little old lady, so rosy cheeked and cheery that
Carol said her name just suited her: she was like Christmas holly; and
the new arrangement worked like magic.
One afternoon, as Jean was spinning Douglas a thrilling yarn, a vigorous
rapping at the front knocker sent her flying to the door. A tall,
fine-looking gentleman, suit-case in hand, stood on the threshold.
Amazement and ecstasy were in the cry that rang through the little
cottage, as Jean threw herself into the traveller’s arms.
“Daddy! Daddy!”
“My own lassie!” His strong, loving arms held her fast.
“Daddy, is it really you? You darling! you precious darling!”
“Yes, Dawtie, here I am a whole month ahead of time! I thought I’d give
you a surprise. Oh, my wee lassie, it’s good to have you again! Daddy
couldn’t live without you any longer!”
In the love scene that followed out on the porch, a wonderful piece of
news was told. Jean’s father and mother had come home to live. All
summer Mr. Lennox had contemplated changing places with his partner in
New York, but nothing had been said to Jean, for fear of a possible
disappointment. Her parents had arrived in New York two days ago, and
while her invalid mother was resting after the voyage her father had run
up to Halcyon, found his bird flown, and followed her to Chipmunk Lodge.
When the first raptures were over Mr. Lennox listened to the story of
those past weeks.
“And Daddy, isn’t it the queerest thing,” said Jean, “Douglas has his
grandfather’s watch, and it’s just like grandpapa’s, and it has the same
motto inside!”
“Hm! that’s odd,” said Mr. Lennox. “The lad’s Scotch, you wrote me,
didn’t you?”
“Yes, come and see him now.” Jean ushered her father indoors.
Then she ran to surprise Carol and Douglas with her news, but her cry of
“Daddy!” had betrayed the secret. “Come in, Daddy!” she called.
Carol welcomed Mr. Lennox at the bedroom door, and after a hearty
greeting he stepped to the bedside.
“Well, Douglas, my boy,” said he, “you and I ought not to be strangers.
I feel as if I had known you a long time from all Jean’s written about
you.” The kind words made Douglas feel at home with him at once.
When the boy’s fall and illness had been talked over, Mr. Lennox asked
him to describe his watch. “It must be the counterpart of my father’s,”
he said when the description had been given. “What was your
grandfather’s name?”
“He was Major Alexander Gordon.”
“That name is about as familiar to me as the proverb in the watch,” said
Mr. Lennox. “Tell me what you know of your grandfather.”
“He came from Glen Yarrow in Scotland,” replied Douglas. “He belonged to
the Grahame Highlanders, and he was ordered to Canada just after he was
married. He was stationed in Halifax for years. My father was born
there.”
“Your father was a physician, I understand.”
“Yes. He came down to New York after Grandfather died, but he broke down
and had to come and live in the mountains.”
“And he died last Christmas—it was Douglas’s birthday,” whispered Jean.
“And your mother is dead, too?”
“Yes, she died when I was three years old.”
“Why, my boy, it’s been a pretty sad life for you,” said Jean’s father,
with feeling. The look in the gray eyes gave the answer.
“Have you any relatives living?” asked Mr. Lennox.
“I have some cousins of my mother’s up in Nova Scotia, and I think I
have a great-uncle or something in Scotland.”
“I’m not sure but I know more about your family than you do!” said Mr.
Lennox with a smile. “I’m going to tell you a story now. My father,
David Lennox, lived in Glen Yarrow. My grandfather was the minister of
the kirk there, and a great friend of the laird. The laird was named
_Douglas Gordon_.”
Jean and Carol both started, and Douglas half raised himself.
“That was my great-grandfather!” he exclaimed.
“It looks like it,” said Mr. Lennox. “Well, the laird’s youngest son,
Alec—”
“Douglas’s grandfather!” cried Jean.
“Whist! lassie. The laird’s son, Alec, and Davie Lennox were just the
same age, and as fast friends as their fathers; and when the lads went
to the university the laird gave them gold watches, exactly alike. They
had their favorite motto engraved in them: ‘_Pit a stoot hert tae a stey
brae_;’ and they determined to live up to it. Alec became a soldier and
went to Canada, and David went into the ministry and always lived in
Scotland. I’m sorry their lives drifted so far apart that their sons,
your father and I, couldn’t be friends too. That’s all. Now, laddie and
lassie, what do you think of it?”
“We’re almost cousins!” cried Jean. “Our grandfathers were just as good
as brothers!”
“Think of our grandfathers being such chums, and then our finding each
other and getting to be such friends, too!” said Douglas.
“I think it’s perfectly beautiful!” said Carol. “That must be why you
took to each other from the very start!”
A merry chat followed. Then Mr. Lennox rose. “Now, Douglas, I must say
good-by. I’ll see you again in the morning before I go back to New York.
Come, lassie, let your daddy have a chance to get acquainted with you.”
Out on the porch they had a long talk. “You’ve grown in more ways that
one, Jean,” said her father. “Do you remember, I used to call you my
_daft lassie_, your head was so full of dreams? The daft lassie is gone,
and I find instead a young battle maid so busy fighting for other people
that she has no time to think of herself. But I canna ca’ ye my _wee
dawtie_ ony mair!”
“What will you call me, Daddy?”
“I’ll call you my Lass of the Silver Sword!”
* * * * *
When Jean’s father returned from New York and paid a second visit to
Chipmunk Lodge, he found Douglas almost himself again, though the boy
was obliged to lean on his crutch as he rose to greet him.
“I should like to have a talk with you, my lad,” said Mr. Lennox.
“Dawtie, we’ll have to send you out of the room for a bit. Don’t listen
at the keyhole! Well, Douglas,” he continued, “this is first rate!
You’ll be climbing Mount Marcy in another week!”
Douglas laughed. “Well, I’m sure I’ll be able to go to work as soon as I
can get along without crutches,” said he. “I feel fine and I can’t lie
around doing nothing.”
“How would you like to make me a visit?” asked Mr. Lennox.
“Oh, thank you, sir! I’d like to ever so much! But wouldn’t I be in the
way? I shouldn’t like to be a bother.”
“No, you wouldn’t be in the way in the least. In fact, we’d all like to
have you extend your visit indefinitely.”
“I don’t quite understand. You don’t mean till I’m able to go to school,
do you?” said Douglas.
“I mean, come and make your home with us. Your education is of the
utmost importance. Your father would have wished you to be where you
could best prepare yourself for your life’s work. And as far as we
ourselves are concerned—why, I’ve seen and heard enough of you to know
that it will be a pleasure to all of us. We need you. Don’t you think
Mrs. Lennox and I would be richer for having a son as well as a
daughter?”
The astounded boy could hardly believe that his ears did not deceive
him. He began to stammer out his gratitude.
“No, no, I don’t want to be thanked,” said Mr. Lennox. “All I want is to
have you take me at my word and come! I’m going to send my lassie to you
now. You can talk it over with her.” He left the room and in rushed
Jean, to find a flushed, excited boy.
“Jean, your father wants me to come and live in your family!”
“I know it!” she interrupted. “I knew it all along. Daddy and I planned
it all out together when he was here before! You’re going to have Daddy
for your father, and Mother for your mother, and I’ll have you for my
brother—and Father’s going to send you to school and college! Oh,
Douglas, I’m so happy about it, I don’t know what to do! I just hated to
think about saying good-by and having you go way off somewhere!”
“So did I,” said Douglas. His voice sounded oddly gruff, and Jean saw
his eyes begin to shine. He turned his head quickly toward the window.
This prospect of a happy home to the lonely boy, and the delight that
Jean showed, were almost too much for him. The tears rushed to his eyes,
and for a minute he studied the sunlit valley as well as he could
through the mist, while he held Jean’s hand in a tight, grateful clasp.
“I never saw anything like you!” he said, when he could trust his voice.
“The way you’re always doing things for somebody else! Look at all
you’ve done for me already! And your father taking me like this—it’s too
much! I can never pay it back as long as I live!”
“But he doesn’t want you to! He wants to have a _son_. Don’t you see?”
said Jean.
“Well, I’ll be the best kind of a son I can, anyway,” said Douglas.
“I’ll do my level best to please him, so he’ll never be sorry for what
he’s done. I’ll study like a good fellow, once I get to school! Look
here, Jean—do you think I’ll make a decent sort of a brother?”
“Fine! Do you think I’ll make a nice sister?”
“The best little sister a fellow ever had! There isn’t another anywhere
could hold a candle to _you_!”
As father and daughter strolled in the woods before tea, Mr. Lennox
said: “Dawtie, Douglas won’t need that ninety-two dollars you’ve been
earning for him, now. What would you like to do with it?”
“I’d like to give it to Stella, and the canoe money, too,” answered
Jean. “And, Daddy, don’t ever tell him about my earning it. He might
feel badly to think I’d worked for him.”
“We won’t tell him just yet, anyway, lassie,” said her father.
October was only a few days away, and this was the last afternoon at
Chipmunk Lodge. But Carol, Jean and Douglas knew that before many weeks
they would have to visit that region again; for Tony Harrel’s case was
soon to come on for trial, and all three would be obliged to appear as
witnesses.
“I’d give anything if I could get out of it,” said Douglas. “I’ve got to
testify if the law makes me, but I hate to. I don’t want to get him into
any more trouble.”