CHAPTER XVI
THE FATE OF DAISY-JEWEL
The "Bee" was a thing of the past. Everybody had gone, leaving a vastlydifferent Skyrie from that which greeted the rising sun of thatmemorable day. Weed-grown, bramble-infested fields lay cleared ofdebris, that had been gathered into heaps and burned. The garden plotwas now a stretch of well-made beds wherein had been sown or set suchthings as would develop to ripeness that season, although it was longpast orthodox time for garden-making. To the delight of his obstinatesoul, even Pa Babcock's asparagus trench had been duly prepared and asufficient number of the roots set out. But the work of the trench, orbed, had not been accomplished by himself. He had explained the pressingneed of such a thing to Mrs. Calvert, who, to rid herself and others ofhis "talk," had promptly furnished the necessary funds to pay for theplants and had dispatched him to a distant market gardener's to procurethem. He had returned sooner than was expected or desired, but could herelegate his own intelligent task to anybody else? So, for once, hereally did work faithfully, spreading out each tiny rootlet with a carethat insured a prompt growth, and deluging them with water which it tookmany trips to the spring to bring.
The old well-curb had been repaired, the well emptied of water, andcleaned. The barn had been put in order, so far as might be with thetime and material at command. The roof would not leak again nor theblinds fall because of rusted hinges. Even the cellar had been swept,and garnished with double coatings of sweet-smelling whitewash; and,indeed, all that these willing helpers could think of and accomplish hadbeen done to make the Skyrie household "start farming fair and square."
The last event of the "Bee" had been an auction.
Mrs. Calvert had sent a brief note of instructions to Seth Winters andhe had promptly acted upon them. With such an assembly at hand the timewas ripe for selling Daisy-Jewel to the highest bidder. So theblacksmith held a short parley with Bill Barry, the village auctioneer,and afterward started the sale by a fair price named for such a bloodedquadruped.
"Seven dollars! Seven dollars! Did I hear somebody bid seven dollars?only seven for such a beautiful Jewel and Daisy combined?"
"Seven fifty!" called Jim Barlow, also acting upon instructions.
"Seven fifty--somebody higher? _And_ eight dollars? Eight, eight, eight,somebody raise me eight-eight-eight--_And_ fifty! Eight dollars andfifty cents! Why, you folks, you make me blush to be an auctioneer,standing here on a horse-block and selling away from a little girl theonly piece of stawk she owns for just eight dollars and fifty cents.That I should live to--Nine, nine, nine, nine! Somebody raise me ninedollars for a full-bred Jersey bull calf! nine, nine, nine----"
"Ten!" shouted Mr. Smith, who knew he could reimburse himself in someway for this recklessly extravagant purchase.
But the chance was not for him. "Ten fifty!" shouted somebody at therear of the crowd, and:
"Ten and fifty! Fifty, fifty, fifty--Hard word that to rattle off--Makeit 'leven; and ease my poor tongue! 'Leven, 'leven, 'leven, elevendollars and fifty cents. That's that blamed old fifty cropping up again.Go it by even dollars, friends and feller citizens, Eleven and--twelve,twelve, twelve--Almost as bad to say! Hump her up. Thirteen do I hear?Thirteen? Don't let her stick at that! who'll pay just thirteen unluckydollars when they can buy a full-blooded bull calf for--Fourteen, do Ihear? Fourteen, fourteen, four--four--four--Fifteen good Americandollars for a poor little girl's pet calf! Neighbors, I am ashamed ofyou, I certainly am. Why, I'll bid sixteen myself, ruther 'an have sucha blot as that printed on this town's archives! I will, I say, though Ihaven't any more use for a poor little girl's one pet calf than I havefor two wives! Sixteen I bid, seventeen somebody lifts me. Eighteen?Nineteen? Twenty? Now you begin to talk! But let me warn you fellers,that this here sale is cash or its equivalent. So anyone who's justbiddin' to hear himself talk--take care! Twenty-one, one, one, one, one,one, one----"
The sale went on for a long time, and the bidding grew more spiritedcontinually. Bill Barry's taunt about cash payment touched the pride ofsome, but the outcome of the matter was predestined from the beginning.Seth Winters had had his instructions and now acted upon them. Whennobody would "raise" him any higher, the calf was knocked down to him atthirty-five dollars and was promptly dispatched to a new home in chargeof the Smith boys, who had come to see the finish of the "Bee."
Bill Barry refused to take any payment for his services in the matter,so the blacksmith hurried to find Dorothy and to place the money in herhands. To his surprise, he found her weeping bitterly, with her headagainst old Hannah's hairy side, as if mingling her tears with thatbereaved mother's.
"Why, Dorothy dear! I understood you were tired of Daisy-Jewel and morethan willing to exchange him for a colt. See here--thirty-five dollars,all in crisp banknotes, and your very own!"
But Dorothy would not be comforted, nor even lift her curly head to lookupon what she now sadly considered as the price of blood, while Hannahcontinued to moo distractingly, yet, at the same time managed to chewher cud--the sign of a well-contented bovine mind.
Jim also drew near, a wide, short board in hand and, wholly disgustedwith Dorothy's inconsistency, exclaimed:
"Pshaw! If girls don't beat all creation for changin' their minds! Herewas you wantin' to be rid of that calf, now cryin' like--most like oneyourself. Shucks! Dorothy Chester, where's your good sense at? An' youstand aside, will you? I want to fix Hannah so you won't have to chaseher no more."
Now the truth is that Dorothy had listened to the auction with keeninterest and no thought of grief till she heard Mr. Barry allude toherself as a "poor little girl with only one calf." Then the springs ofself-pity were touched and she would have stopped the sale had she daredor known quite how. That her father approved of it he had told her atits beginning, and so did Jim. These two were the most sensiblypractical persons she knew, even more than mother Martha,--where thequestion of live stock was concerned,--and she ought to be guided bytheir judgment. Daisy-Jewel had been a trial and expense from the day ofhis arrival at Skyrie, but--he was _her_ Daisy-Jewel, and she had soldhim into bondage--probably, into worse: the hands of a butcher!Thirty-five dollars! It seemed incredible: but thirty-five dollars asthe price of a life. How dreadful!
"Stand still, you old misery! Now, then, my Hannah, how do you findyourself?" cried Jim, coolly pushing Dorothy aside and stepping backhimself to avoid the twisting and jerking of the cow's horns. "There yoube! Plenty of chance to look down on the pasture but none to go skippin'over stun walls!"
Dorothy wiped her eyes, indignant with Jim for his callous want ofsympathy in her own grief, and curious about Hannah; who had ceased bothmooing and chewing, confused and distracted by the thing which hadbefallen her.
Jim had simply hung the board he had brought upon Hannah's horns andsecurely fastened it there, letting it fall forward over her face at anangle which permitted her to see the ground but, as he had declared,would not encourage her search for stone walls to leap. "Easy as fallin'off a log, ain't it?" he demanded of Mr. Winters, who had watched theoperation with some amusement and some compassion. "Some folks thinkit's mean to put boards on 'em, but Mis' Stott she said 'twas better tobe mean to critters than to have critters mean to folks. Why, here hasDorothy been runnin' half over the hull farm, catchin' Hannah, when allthat time she might have been studyin' her books!"
"Thanks, noble youth! I'm not 'sufferin'' to study in the summer andvacation time," answered Dorothy, who had begun to recover hercheerfulness and now asked the blacksmith, as he extended the moneytoward her: "What will become of Daisy now?"
"Mrs. Calvert has bought him. He will be kept on the Deerhurst farm, theother side of the mountain, and will grow up, I trust, quite worthy ofhis pedigree. She owns a fine herd of animals and her stock-farm is oneof her chief interests here."
"Than he won't be--be murdered?"
"No, indeed. Here is your money. I must be going. Good-night."
"I'll go along with you. Good-night, Dorothy. Don't forget to ask yourfolks 'bout th
at circus!" called Jim, casting a self-important glanceinto Seth Winters's face as he followed him down the path.
With her money in hand Dorothy joined her parents and was well commendedthat she had consented to the sale of Daisy-Jewel; and for a littlewhile, until milking-time required Martha's presence in the barnyard,the trio discussed its vast amount and the best sort of horse to beselected. Neither Mr. Chester nor his wife dashed the girl's enthusiasmor so much as hinted that the sum in hand would scarcely pay for a goodhorse. To her it seemed all-sufficient, not only for a horse, but for awagon and harness as well. And--But let us not anticipate!
The circus whose coming attractions now filled Jim Barlow's mind morethan even his beloved "study" had sent out its posters long ahead; sothat the country folk might accustom themselves to the ideas of itstempting sights and to grow anxious to behold them. To the lad it seemedas if the days would never pass. The only relief to his eagerness wasthat Herbert's projected camp-picnic had been postponed on account ofHelena's sudden illness. One of her bronchial attacks had kept her aprisoner within the Towers and she had become so interested in the ideaof the affair that her brother waited for her to recover.
He contented himself the better by frequent visits to Skyrie, and by hisgift to Dorothy of the stray kitten. The rather disreputable-lookinglittle animal he had coaxed Miss Milliken to cleanse and adorn with ablue ribbon before its advent at Skyrie, where it now resided, pettedand pampered till its thin outlines became plump ones and it almostfilled that place in Dorothy's heart left vacant by Daisy-Jewel.
Also, Dolly herself had twice been sent for to visit Helena in herconfinement of the sick-room, and had won the liking of everybody whosaw her there. She was so simple and natural, so free from theimitating manner of some of Helena's friends who envied and toadied tothe rich man's daughter, that the heiress found her society novel andrefreshing. It was something quite new for Helena to be told, one daywhen she was "fussing" over the dainty meal sent up to her room, that:
"Why, Helena Montaigne! You perfectly wicked girl! My mother and Mrs.Calvert too both say that it's as sinful as it's ill-bred to quarrelwith your food. 'Not fit to eat' isn't true. Maybe you aren't 'fit' toeat it yourself, poor dear, because you're ill. But I never saw such adainty lunch as that, even at Deerhurst itself. Eat it, do, and getstrong and make your mother happy. She's taken a lot of trouble for you.I know she went into the kitchen and fixed those things herself, becauseshe thought your cook wasn't careful enough. Now, do behave! And I'llsing to you while you eat. I've heard my father say that at the bighotels at Atlantic City and other places they have a band play while thepeople dine. Well, then, I'll be your band and sing. So begin! You must!I shall make you!"
Laughing, yet wholly in earnest, Dorothy had picked a morsel of food ona fork and held it so close to Helena's lips that she had to take it,whether or not. A second morsel followed the first, and the performancewas enlivened by a recital of Peter Piper's consumption of the chocolatecake.
Before she knew it Helena was laughing, and likewise before she quiterealized it--so swiftly had Dorothy fed and talked--she had made abetter meal than at any time since her illness. The food strengthened,for the illness was really past, and seeing her darling recover madeMrs. Montaigne very grateful to the girl whose influence had helped thatrecovery. Also, this general liking for his own especial friend, asHerbert considered her, fully confirmed the lad in the scheme he hadformed, but had not yet broached to his family. Thought he:
"I'll wait a little longer yet, till even the Pater has seen how sweetand unselfish she is, then I'll spring it on the family. If I carry itthrough--Hurray!"
But though Jim knew of these visits he had not resented them. It wasperfectly natural, he supposed, that girls should like other girls; andthat puling, sickly-looking, stuck-up daughter of those richfolks--Well, he was glad that Dorothy could show them that a little maidwho had once worked alongside himself on a Maryland truck-farm could"hold a candle" with the best of them! Herbert, himself, had not crossedJim's way. He had gone into camp with some other lads of the Heights andhad himself almost forgotten his home in the fun of that outing.
But weeks do pass, no matter how they sometimes seem to drag; and theday came when Jim and Dorothy were seated in Mrs. Calvert's runabout, agentle horse in the shafts, and themselves _en route_ for thatlong-dreamed-of circus.
Dorothy carried her money with her. As yet the sum received forDaisy-Jewel remained unbroken. Neither parent would use any of it, eachinsisting that it was Dorothy's own and that she should expend it as shesaw fit: though that this would be for the horse or colt into which thecalf had been thus changed was a foregone conclusion.
It had become a standard jest with the ex-postman that she should nevergo anywhere away from Skyrie without her pocket-book. "In case youmight meet the horse of your heart, somewhere along the road. It's theunexpected that happens. You're certain to find Daisy's successor whenyou're unaware that he, she, or it is near." And to-day he had added:
"A circus is the very place to look for a horse! When you get there stiraround and--pick up a bargain, if you can! By all means, take yourpocket-book to-day!"
She had kissed his merry lips to stop their teasing but--she had carriedthe purse! Something unexpected was, in reality, to happen: Despitetheir long anticipation, this happy pair of youngsters were to fallshort of their ambition--they were not to visit the circus.