Dorothy at Skyrie

  CHAPTER XII

  SETH WINTERS AND HIS FRIENDS

  Seth Winters was known as the best blacksmith in the country. The horseshe shod never went lame, the tires of the wheels he repaired rarelyloosened: consequently his patronage was extensive and of the best.Better than that, his patrons liked the man as well as his work and theywere more than willing to grant him a favor--almost the first he hadever asked of them.

  First, he visited Mrs. Cecil and counseled with her concerning thescheme he had formed: and she having most heartily approved it, he lostno time in mentioning it to each and all who came to his shop. Theresult was that on a sunny morning, not long after Dorothy's homecoming,there gathered before the little smithy an assemblage of all sorts andconditions of men and vehicles, which filled the road for a longdistance either way, and even strayed into the surrounding woods for amore comfortable waiting-place.

  In the wagons were also many women, farm-wives mostly, all gay with thedelight of an unexpected outing and the chance to bestow a kindness.

  "Amazing! How it warms the cockles of one's heart to be good tosomebody!" cried Seth, his benign face aglow with the zest of the thing,as one after another team drew near and its occupants bade him a smiling"Good-morning!" "The very busiest time of all the year for farmerfolk--haying, crop-raising, gardening--yet not a soul I asked has failedto respond, in some shape or other."

  "Of course not! It's as good as a county fair or a Sunday-school picnic,Cousin Seth! I wouldn't have missed it for anything!" cried a merry oldvoice behind him, and he turned to see Mrs. Calvert nodding her handsomehead in this direction and that, with that friendly simplicity of mannerwhich had made her so generally liked. For, though she could be mostaustere and haughty with what she called "common and presumptuouspeople," she had an honest liking for all her fellow-creatures who werehonest and simple themselves.

  "Now, Betty! But I might have known you would come--you're always onhand for any 'doin's.' Though don't you dare to give your own generosityfree rein. This is strictly a case 'of the people, by the people, forthe people.' Blue-blooded aristocracy and full purses aren't 'in it,'"warned the smith, in an alarm that was more real than feigned, knowingthat his impulsive old friend could spoil the pleasure of many byexceeding them in giving.

  "Oh! I shall take care. I've only sent one team, a couple of men--onethe gardener, the other a carpenter who was working on the place,and--Do you know, Seth Winters, you barrier-destroying old'Socialist!'--that the man positively refused to take pay for his day'slabor, even though he can ill afford to lose his time? 'No, ma'am,' saidthis aristocrat of the saw and plane, 'I claim the right to do a decentturn to a neighbor, same as another.' Rich or poor it doesn't appear tomake a bit of difference--give them a chance at this sort of thing andthey all lose their heads."

  Seth laughed. Such "Socialistic" principles as these were the ones headvocated, not only by word but by his whole noble life. For him wealthhad but one purpose--the bettering of these other folk to whom wealthhad not been given. Then he asked:

  "What of Jim Barlow? Is he one of the 'men' you furnished for the day?"

  "Will you believe me--he is not? When that young Herbert Montaigne rodearound this morn-thing, before breakfast, to say that his father wassending two men with a mowing machine and that he, Herbert, was going toride on the horse-rake himself, Jim was talking to me. He was full ofenthusiasm and earnest to explain that nothing in our own home gardenshould suffer because of his taking this day off. He would work overtimeto make up--as if I would let him! But as soon as Herbert came, just asenthusiastic himself, down goes my James's countenance to the verybottom of despair. What I love about that boy is his naturalness!"exclaimed this lively old lady, irrelevantly.

  "Keep to the subject in hand, please, Cousin Betty. The reason of Jim'sgloom perplexes me. I should have thought he would have been----"

  "Oh! he was; he did; he must have been, he should have been, he wouldhave been--all the tenses in the grammar you choose. If it hadn't beenfor my precious little Dorothy. That small maid----"

  She paused so long and seemed so amused that again he spoke:

  "For her sake alone I should think he would be pleased to find othersready to befriend her."

  "In a way, of course, he is, though man-like, or boy-like, he'd verymuch rather _do_ the befriending than have such a handsome young fellowas Herbert take it out of hand. That lad was just fetching! He'd dressedthe part to perfection. Had on a loose white flannel blouse knotted witha blue tie--his color: his denim knickers might have been the finestriding trousers; and his long boots--I fancy there was more money wentto the cost of them than you'd spend on yourself in a year. And all tomake himself fair in the eyes of a little maid like Dorothy. But bloodwill tell. My Dolly----"

  "Remember, she _isn't_ your Dolly, Elizabeth Somerset Cecil Calvert,however you may now love and covet her. She's a charming small woman, asmany another lad than poor Jim or gay Herbert will find some day. But Ididn't dream that jealousy began so early in life, or that such amatter-of-fact person as young James Barlow could be jealous."

  "He is. He is intensely so, though probably he doesn't know it himself.I fancy it is about the first time he has been brought into contact withother lads of his own age, and he is keen enough to see his owndisadvantage. Herbert's nod to Jim was wholly friendly, I thought, butJim resented it as patronizing. Silly fellow! And so he promptly changedhis mind about affairs and decided that not for any consideration couldhe leave his garden and his 'duty' till the day's work was done. Then,if he had any time, my lord of the potato-crop may condescend to appearat Skyrie. Also by that time, he doubtless thinks, a white-handedaristocrat like Herbert will have tired of the affair and betakenhimself back to the Towers where he belongs. Oh! I do love young folks!They are so transparent and honest in showing their feelings thatthey're wonderfully interesting. As for my Dolly C.--Seth Winters, Ibelieve that I will really have to ask those Chesters to let me have herfor 'keeps,' as the children say."

  "No, no, dear friend. Don't. You must not. It were most unwise. Leavethe girl to grow up in the station to which God has assigned her, nomatter by whose human hands the deed was done. At present she is fair,affectionate, simple, and womanly. To be suddenly transplanted into awealthy home would spoil her. For once, put your generous impulses asideand leave Dorothy Chester alone, to be a comfort to those who havedevoted their lives to her. And now, that sermon's ended! Also, Ibelieve that all have come who promised, which is a remarkable thing initself. You're walking, I suppose? So am I; and we'll start on together,while I signal the rest to follow."

  So they set forth, a worthy pair of white-haired "children," who couldnot grow old because they lived so very near that Heaven whence they hadcome to earth: and behind them fell into line all the motley assortmentof carts and wagons, with the clattering mowing machine from the Towersbringing up the rear.

  Mother Martha was in what purported to be a garden, trying to persuadePa Babcock to plant things that would yet have time to mature thatseason, and was at her wits' end to find arguments to stem his eloquentreasons why he should do otherwise. Quoth he:

  "Now, of all the satisfactory vegetables grown, asparagus, orsparrowgrass, as the unenlightened around here call it--asparaguscontains more nourishment and the properties----"

  "But, Mr. Babcock, please don't dig any longer in that trench. It willhave to be four or five feet deep and so much labor. My husband wasreading all about it in one of his catalogues that he's just sent for,and it would take at least three years for asparagus to grow strongenough to begin cutting. Besides the roots are too expensive. And thatterrible trench, so big, filled with stones----"

  "Excuse me, ma'am, there's plenty of stone at Skyrie to fill theasparagus beds of the nation: or if not quite that----"

  "But I must insist, since you've refused to listen to John about it,that you stop fooling with this trench and plant some late potatoes. Webought some seed ones from Mrs. Smith and my little girl is cutting theminto pieces alread
y. We were shown that by leaving one or two 'eyes' thepieces would grow just as well as whole tubers. Everybody needs potatoesand they can do without asparagus!" and too exasperated for furtherspeech poor mother Martha folded her arms and brought her sternestglances to bear upon her hired man.

  He had kept his word and appeared upon the morning following hisengagement, and for a time he had been left to his own devices: hisinexperienced employers judging that any man who had been brought up inthe country must be wiser in farming matters than they. Besides, thestorm that had threatened on the night of his first visit had proved amost disastrous one. The roof had "leaked like a sieve," as pessimisticJim Barlow had declared it would, "give it storm enough to try it":rusty-hinged shutters had broken loose, stopped-up drains hadoverflowed, the cellar had become a pool of water, and the cherishedfurniture brought from the little home in Baltimore had, in severalrooms, been ruined by the moisture. Moreover, father John had taken asevere cold and been kept in bed in his own more sheltered apartment;where he consoled himself with the gardening catalogues he had writtenfor and whence he endeavored to direct their hired man.

  "Did Pa Babcock bring his dinner, Martha?" he had asked on that firstmorning, when she was running distractedly about, trying to dry thedamaged furniture and undo the storm's havoc.

  "No, dear. He said--just this once it didn't happen to be convenient.His wife hadn't any cold meat on hand."

  "Neither have you, I believe! Well, I will not board him. I will not!The farm may go to rack and ruin first!" cried Mr. Chester, indignantly."The idea! Here are Dorothy and I trying to put our appetites into ourpockets, just to save you labor, and this great, squeaking lout of aman----"

  "John, John! Why, John, I never knew you to be so unjust! If I, with myquick temper, can have patience, you certainly should."

  "But, mother, he's just been doing nothing at all, all this morning!"cried Dorothy, seconding her beloved father's opinion. "Just 'sort ofnudgin' 'round,' Jim used to call it when I worked that way to thetruck-farm, and I only a little girl. Why, I know I could have pulledmore weeds myself in this time if I hadn't had to help you indoors, evenif I did take that long walk to Heartsease farm. The ground is soakingwet, weeds would pull just beautifully, I know, 'cause we used to loveto work after a rain, in our little garden at home! Oh! dear! this isvery pretty, but--I wish we hadn't come!"

  Alas! This regret was in all their hearts, in that early time at Skyrie.Views were beautiful but they didn't support life, and though they hadsecured a modest sum of ready money to tide them over these beginningsit had been at the cost of "debt," a burden which the Chesters hated tobear. But, fortunately, they had scant time for repining, and there isnothing like active occupation to banish useless brooding.

  Hannah herself could well keep one person busy and, of course, her youthand fleetness ordained that this person should be Dorothy. Bill Barry'sstatement that the ecru-colored bovine was "lively" and could outrun hissorrel mare was, at least founded upon fact. Among cattlemen she waswhat is known as a "jumper"; and though her behavior upon her first dayof residence at Skyrie was most exemplary her sedateness forsook her onthe next and forever after.

  With the best intentions, after having tried her own hand at milking andsucceeding better than she had expected, Mrs. Cheater kindly turnedHannah "out to grass"--with most unlooked-for results.

  "All cattle graze, you know, John; and she really nibbled that bit ofground clean where she was tied yesterday. Dorothy and I--we won'thinder our 'man' for a trifle like that--Dolly and I will prop up thatsagging gate, so Hannah won't be tempted to stray away, and give her therun of this first lot. She might almost mow it for us in time."

  "Thus cutting short her winter supply of fodder. Let her have one dayat the 'mowing,' if you choose, then she'd better be put into that oldpasture and left there. I know a good farmer wouldn't let even awell-trained Quaker cow into his best meadow; even _I_ know that! As forthe pig, since we can't possibly drink all that milk and, as yet, haveno pans in which to store it, he may as well consume it sweet as waitfor it to sour. That will keep him quiet, anyway, and a squealing pig--Ishouldn't like one."

  Martha was delighted to find even thus much farm knowledge on herhusband's part, and exclaimed:

  "However you guessed that much about things, that meadows are meant forhay and pigs are raised on sour milk, I don't see! Only, of course, it'sas you often say to Dolly: 'Anybody can use his head for anything hechooses.' I suppose you've chosen to study farming and so I know weshall succeed. By the way, Mrs. Smith has sent word over by her littleboy that she is going up to Newburgh this afternoon to do what she calls'trading.' She sells poultry, and eggs, and butter, and such things,that she raises on her farm, and takes in exchange all sorts of staplegoods. She said she'd be pleased to have me go along and learn how to'trade,' 'cause if I was going to be a farmer I'd have to know. I shallhave to take some of that money, too, and buy a churn, some milk pans,and--Well, so many things it doesn't seem as if we really had a singlenecessary article to start with! But it's all the same, of course, inthe end. When we get the loan from Friend Oliver Sands it will be allright. You and Dorothy will be comfortable while I'm gone, I think, forour man is right on hand in the garden to----"

  "Then, if you love me, keep him there!" pleaded father John, in hiswhimsical way. "If he forsakes the garden for the house--Well, _I_ shallbe asleep! As for poor Dolly, if he catches her and tries to convert herto his ideas, the child has nimble feet and can run. I shall advise herso to do. But I'm glad you're to have that nice long ride, though Ican't imagine you as ever becoming a good 'trader.'"

  It was during this brief absence that the ecru-colored Hannah firstreturned to her natural ways, and that Dorothy had to prove herself"nimble," indeed. Despite the fact that she stood in the midst of themost luxurious vegetation the dissatisfied cow knew that there wasbetter in the field beyond. Regardless of the appealing cries ofDaisy-Jewel, this careless mother gave one airy flick to her heels andleaped the intervening wall; and though her child essayed to follow itcould not, but set up such a bawling that Mr. Chester hobbled out to seewhat was amiss.

  "Remarkable!" cried Pa Babcock, improving this opportunity to rest fromhis not too arduous weeding. "Remarkable how the qualities of a racehorse will sometimes inhabit the bosom of a creature----"

  "Dorothy! Dorothy! I guess you'll have to put Dickens down and go getHannah back out of that lot. She's made a--a little mistake! Your motherwants her to graze on the home-piece and mother's our farmer, you know.Do run drive her back, but look out for her hoofs. She'd take a hurdlebetter than any horse I ever saw," called Mr. Chester, laughing; yetregretting to disturb Dorothy, who had worked industriously beside hermother to get things into good condition after the drenching of therain. She had taken tacks from carpets, carried wet cushions andblankets out into the sunshine to dry and carried them back again whenfit, and she wanted to rest and read.

  "Oh, dear! I don't see anything to laugh at in this! Why couldn't Hannahstay where she belonged! And just hear that poor little calf! I--I wishit hadn't been given to me!" fretted the tired girl, yet obediently setoff in pursuit.

  Now the former master of Skyrie had divided it into many fields. He hadcalled these "building lots," and had confidently expected to sell themat high prices to the rich people who had begun to settle on themountain. These dividing walls were stone, like all the others, butsufficiently narrow to admit of Hannah's leaping them easily. She didleap them, running from one to another in a manner confusing to herselfand doubly so to Dorothy, pursuing. Fortunately, the wide wallsbordering the square outline of the farm were impassable even to her:and gradually, pursued and pursuer made their way back to thathome-field whence the race had started.

  After all it was the voice of nature conquered, not Dorothy's fleetness.Daisy-Jewel's bleating and bawling accomplished the return of therunaway; though not till that too active creature had blundered into thewrong fields so many times that Dorothy was in despair.

  Thereaft
er, Hannah was always most securely tethered or kept shut up inher stall within the barn; her mistress finding it easier to cut thegrass and feed her there than to allow her to do it for herself. Butthese performances did not endear the creature to anybody: nor was itcomforting to have Pa Babcock--who took no part in any of these"chasings"--inform them that:

  "Of course, that was the reason my friend Oliver sold her to you socheap. At ordinary rating that fine blooded cow would have brought atleast a hundred dollars. Of course, too, there had to be someconsideration to offset the price;" and again when, on the morning ofthat gathering at Seth Winters's smithy, Hannah had gnawed her fasteningrope in two and started on a tour of the farm, he began to explain:"There is a way to prevent such----" But had paused abruptly, hisattention attracted to the road below, and finished his possible adviceby the pointing of his grimy finger and the exclamation: "TiberiusCaesar! Look a-there!"

  Mrs. Chester did look and instinctively sought the society of John andDorothy, as a protection against the invasion that threatened them.

  "Oh! what can it mean? They are all looking this way as if they werebound for Skyrie! Wagons, people, such a crowd--tell me, John Chester,_have you advertised again_? Is it another 'sale'?"

  But he shook his head, as much surprised and alarmed as she: till SethWinters, the foremost of this invading army, came up to them, andcourteously doffing his hat, explained, with a gay:

  "Good-morning, neighbors! Don't be frightened! We are nothing but awell-meaning _bee_!"