CHAPTER XIX
DOROTHY HAS ANOTHER SECRET
The inquirer went away with "a bee in his bonnet," as the saying goes;and he promptly reported to Oliver Sands that he had been dismissed fromSkyrie as one who had gone there on a fool's errand.
"Say they haven't sold me that south meadow, do they, friend? Well, theyare mistaken. Report to me again in one week from this day and I willgive thee further directions. I am a just man. I will pay thee and thyassistant for the time thee has wasted, but the surveying will yet bedone," returned the miller, quietly.
He even smiled, sitting comfortably in his great rocker upon his shadedveranda; and he opened and closed his fat hands with a suggestivegesture, as of one squeezing something soft and yielding. It was agesture habitual to him while transacting certain kinds of business, asforeclosing a mortgage against some helpless person; and to keenobservers--Seth Winters, for one--seemed most significant. Friend Oliverwas in no wise disturbed by the indignant statement of the Chesters tothe surveyor. He was perfectly contented to bide his time, rememberingthat adage: "All things come to him who waits."
But valiant as their denial, the Chesters watched the surveyors departwith sore misgivings. The bold falsity of the matter roused, at length,even Martha's suspicions that Friend Oliver Sands was not as benign ashe appeared; and for the rest of that week she went about so silent andsad that neither father John nor Dorothy dared intrude upon her reserve.
Yet to the latter came a new trouble of her own: and knowing that shemust confide in somebody old and wise enough to counsel her, she went toSeth Winters. She could not have done better. With almost the openingsentence of her story about the surveyors' visit he seemed to understandthe whole matter, "body and bones" as Jim would say.
"I am thankful you came to me, little Dorothy. We'll outwit that man bymeeting him on his own terms. I'm going to give you something to takecare of till the time comes for you to use it. We'll have what Herbertcalls a regular lark; and may I be there to see! Three hundred dollars,'payable on demand, with interest from date.' Do you remember that date?No? Never mind. I'll put the time sufficiently far back to makeeverything secure, and I misjudge our floury Friend if he will object toa little more than his due. Watch, scholar, and see if I figure right."
Fetching pen and paper, the blacksmith made a rapid computation of whatwould be due Oliver at any time within the next month. Then he went to acupboard in his room above the "office" and took from a small safe therethe amount of cash which should satisfy even the "just" holder of theChesters' "note." He gave the money into Dorothy's hands with a smile,saying:
"This is yours, your very own. It is no gift nor loan of mine. It wasintrusted to me by a law firm in Baltimore, the business managers ofMrs. Calvert's property. Kidder & Kidder are the gentlemen. Well,what?"
"I've heard, I know about them. Why, Mr. Winters, I've _seen_ that oldMr. Kidder!" cried Dorothy, eagerly.
"I'm glad of it. Well, I cannot explain much to you; only I can and dosay that somebody related to you by blood, somebody of your own familythat you never knew, left this money and a little more with thesegentlemen; to be used by, or for, you whenever a case of real necessityoccurred. They are my own lawyers, too, as well as Mrs. Cecil's; soafter you moved to Skyrie, knowing I was such a near neighbor, theywrote and asked me to take care of the small fund for you. I wasn't tomention it until that case of need I spoke of, and that has now surelyarrived. Hurray! Three cheers for the climax! I can picture yourface--all your faces--when 'payment on demand' _is_ demanded, and you socalmly--it must be very calmly, Dolly dear!--come forward with that'payment' in hand. One word of advice to you, more. Try to persuade yourparents to hold on to south meadow. Things are stirring nowadays, andthat very 'Folly' may yet show old Simon's wisdom, by proving the mostvaluable spot on Skyrie farm or any other land 'up-mounting.' Keep thefact of your having the money a secret till the right time comes. Then,hurray!"
For a few moments the astonished girl could do no more than turn overand over the fat wallet which Seth had thrust into her hands; and shewas so enraptured by the thought that it was she, she herself, whoshould come to her parents' relief that she could only smile and smile.She could not even join in this boyish old fellow's hurraying; yetlooking on her happy face, he was quite satisfied.
However, amid all her joy one dark word had fastened on herconsciousness: "Secret." She had come in part to confide her own dreadsecret of the Ghost to this kind man, who would, she was sure, neitherderide her fear nor fail to help her. Seth Winters helped everybodyworthy of his help. All the mountain folk said so and trusted him.
"Mr. Winters, that story about there being a ghost at Skyrie is--_istrue_. I suppose you've heard it, haven't you?"
"Oh, yes! I've heard."
There was no scorn in his expression. The same gentle gravity restedupon his features that had inspired the confidences of so many troubledsouls and now won hers. All the boyish hilarity he had manifested overthe outwitting of Oliver Sands had vanished, and with a fatherlytenderness he drew Dorothy to him and listened intently as she said:
"Yes, Mr. Winters, it--is--true. I didn't believe Alfaretta when shetold about it. I thought there were no such things. But there _is_ aghost haunts Skyrie and--_I--have--seen--it_. I have to believe my owneyes, haven't I?"
"Most assuredly, my dear. And I, too, know it is true. I, too, have seenit."
"_You--have?_"
"Often and often. A most beneficent and harmless ghost. One to becherished and not feared. One that has suffered much evil and done muchgood. A ghost I pity and almost love."
"Why, Mr. Winters! You make me feel as if--as if I could hardly breathe.Could any ghost be _good_? Any ghost be _harmless_?"
"This one is good, I told you. As for harm--has he harmed your gardenby his presence? Have the weeds grown faster or the vegetables less,because of his nightly visitations to it? 'By their fruits ye shall knowthem.' Eh? What?"
"Why, you amaze me more and more. How did you know that about the gardenand the night-time? I hadn't told you yet, though I was going to, in aminute."
"Well, easily. I've seen the garden and I know that all ghosts preferthe night. Not this one because his deeds are evil but because they aregood. A person may learn a lot of things, little maid, by merely keepinghis eyes open and putting two-and-two together."
"Oh! of course; but do you really think I shouldn't fear this one atall? I've been too afraid almost to live, and I've not dared to tell myfather or mother, because she's so nervous she wouldn't stay at Skyrieeven to get my father cured, and he must be. _He must be_--no matterwhat happens. It must not be that a man so good, so kind, so altogetherfaithful to us all should be an invalid forever. O Mr. Winters! Youdon't at all know how brave he is! How he makes fun for mother and mewhen his own heart aches. It seems to me as if he took hold ofeverything, every little thing that happens, and turns it over and over,till he finds out some humor in it. Then he points out to us that humorwhich we'd never have discovered for ourselves. Why, I fancy he'd thinkthere was something funny even about that dreadful ghost!"
"A brave and beautiful nature is poor John Chester's, little Dolly. I amproud to know him, to have him call me friend. Nor should I have calledhim 'poor' but rich. I would rather have his present poverty and hiswholesome, sweet outlook upon life than all the money owned by themaster of the Towers. By the way, he's not such a bad sort, either! cometo know him well enough to see beneath that crust of greed and arrogancethat he wears as if it were a coat. As for that fairy-faced daughter ofhis, I'm wholly in love with her, since you've put your own hand to thetask of remodeling her into the simple, kindly creature God meant her tobe when He fashioned her. Pity! when that other good gift of too muchmoney buries beneath it the better side of the person to whom it isgiven!"
"Oh! Helena is sweet, Mr. Winters. It's not true at all that she ishaughty and 'stuck-up,' as folks say. She's just been petted at home,and praised and sheltered so much, that she didn't have a chance to showwhat she r
eally was. Even to know it herself. But I love her. I love herdearly. She's the nicest girl friend I ever had."
"That's good! That's excellent! For if a certain scheme of our friendHerbert's materializes it would be most important that there should belove between you and Helena. By the way, neither of you young ladieshave invited me to your picnic!"
Dorothy opened her eyes in surprise. "Why, Mr. Winters! How did you knowwe were going to have one? I hadn't told that yet, either, and I dobelieve you must be a witch--a gentleman witch--to guess at things theway you do!"
"I hope I'm a 'gentleman' witch if I'm any sort. I shouldn't like to bea 'lady,' one that's always pictured as bestriding a broomstick. Thatwould be most uncomfortable. I prefer a horse. Well, am I to come toyour picnic, or am I not, Miss Dorothy Chester?"
"O Mr. Winters! Will you? If you will, your coming will make us both sohappy. I'd rather have you than anybody I know, even young folks----"
"As if I were not that! Thank you for your cordial 'bid.' I will be mosthappy to accept the invitation I've had fairly to worm out of you. Whatam I expected to provide as my share of the entertainment?"
"Oh! you love to tease me, don't you? Nothing. Of course, you are toprovide nothing. Only come, and don't disappoint us."
"I will surely come. But I hope to do my share, as I said; and if Isucceed in obtaining what I hope for, it will be a novelty in picnics!"
"Now you've made me curious! I love novelties! What will yours be?"asked Dorothy, eagerly, and rising to leave, since some men had arrivedwith horses to be shod and her host must attend to business.
"Take care of that parcel, child. Tell nobody of it, not even the fatherand mother, till the right moment comes. You'll recognize it when itdoes, and what shall I bring? Let me see--I think I will bring a GHOST!"
It was a very happy girl who returned to Skyrie, carrying safely hid inher pocket that which should "at the right time" release her belovedparents from the power of debt, held over them by even so "generous" aman as miller Sands. It was almost impossible for her to keep this newand splendid "secret" from their knowledge. At times she felt she must,she certainly must, break her promise to Seth Winters and disclose it;but she had never knowingly broken her word and she would not letherself begin to do so now. Besides, if she had been able to keep thatother, dreadful "secret" about the "ghost" she surely could keep thishappy one of the money. She had made it her business to bestow this in aplace of safety, although her frequent visits to the spot would havebetrayed her interest in it had the elder Chesters been at allsuspicious.
The days sped by till the end of the week and that beautiful summerSaturday appointed for Helena's picnic. They had been busy and peacefuldays at Skyrie. No further demands had been made upon the elder Chestersby Mr. Oliver Sands. That most industrious of "ghosts" had notreappeared nor nervous mother Martha so much as suspected his existence;though rumors concerning him were rife in all Riverside. These rumorshad been freshly set afloat by the Babcocks. Dorothy had admitted toAlfaretta that there "_might_ be some truth" in the story of a spookyvisitant, and Alfy had promptly stated that there _was_. Pa Babcockaffirmed the tale and declared that this was why he had left off workingon the haunted farm. "It had got upon my nerves to the extent ofinterfering with my orations," he had explained, to whoever wouldlisten. Until then, nobody had credited Pa with possessing "nerves" ofany sort; but even such an absurd statement found credence with some.
More than with the "spook," however, was the public mind agitated byother rumors which touched upon "south meadow." The "Folly" was a wordoften on men's lips, yet, as often happens, the persons most nearlyconcerned in the subject were the last to hear of it.
The promised saddle for Portia had been sent home and found to be adelightful change from the bareback riding which ambitious Dorothy hadbeen practicing. So delightful, indeed, was it and so eager was she tohave all her own friends enjoy it with her that she decided:
"I'm going to put the saddle in the phaeton along with the baskets whenwe drive to the 'meadow.' The 'Bee' people fixed the bars to it sonicely, we can drive along the road till we come to the field and thenthrough the bar-way into it. I'll take Portia out of the shafts andsaddle her, or the boys will do it for me. Then all the girls that wishcan take a ride, turn and turn about. It will add ever so much to ourfun--everybody I know simply loves and envies me my darling 'calico'pony! I'll come back for you first, though, mother and father, for youmust be there. A picnic, or anything nice, wouldn't seem perfect withoutyou two. Dear Mr. Winters is sure to come. He said so and he's going tobring--My! I almost let the cat out of the bag!"
Dorothy's sudden pause and startled expression provoked no comment fromher parents other than mother Martha's protesting:
"Cat! I wouldn't take Lady Rosalind, if I were you, Dolly dear. It wouldonly be a worry to you. Those little Babcocks are sure to come, invitedor not, and as surely would plague the life out of her. Why, Rosalindruns under the lounge the very minute any Babcock, big or small, setsfoot inside the door. Don't take the cat."
"It wasn't--it wasn't--that kind of a cat! and I haven't let itout--yet!" laughed the girl, with a gayety that seemed exaggerated forso humdrum a remark.
"You're a queer child, Dorothy C. But--but I hope you'll have a happyday," answered her mother, slipping an arm about the girl's shouldersand lightly caressing the flushed young cheek; while Dolly answered,trustfully:
"I'm certain to! Mrs. Calvert is coming and says she _cannot_ unless JimBarlow brings her and waits upon her! That settles Jim and his refusals!She's made it a point of 'duty' and that boy was never yet known to turnhis back on his duty--even when it led him into having a good timehimself at a picnic! Good-by, now. I'm off!"
It did prove the happiest sort of a gathering. Everybody came who wasinvited and some appeared who were not. But there were food and room andfun enough for all. Portia did ample service in the cause; trottingpatiently around and around the smoother portions of the meadow,carrying various small maidens on her back but, at length, being given achance to nibble her own dinner from that plentiful pasture. She wasstill saddled and bridled, the smallest Babcock having testified byscreaming that she was still unsatisfied with her share of the exercise,and being promised "one more ride after dinner."
Never a Babcock screamed more wisely. But for that scream Portia wouldhave been unsaddled and but for Portia--a life might have been lost.
CHAPTER XX
ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
The chief event of the day was to be the exploration of "Si Waterman'sFolly." This occurred immediately after dinner.
Jim and Herbert, aided by Mr. Winters's strong arms, found smalldifficulty in removing the decayed plank covering which the old minerhad placed above his narrow-mouthed shaft. This had once rolled easilyenough upon deftly applied rollers and had been arranged to protect Mr.Waterman from detection when excavating, in search of that gold which hebelieved lay buried in south meadow. He was a secretive man who sharedno secrets with his neighbors if he could help it, yet whose veryidiosyncrasies betrayed them.
"Well, that's a good job done!" cried Seth, as the cover was pushedaside. "See there?"
He placed his heel upon the boards, which at once broke into fragmentsbeneath his weight.
"Why, anybody might have stepped upon it and fallen through!" criedDorothy, astonished.
"Yes. A good job to have prevented such an accident. But the hole, orshaft is--Hello, friend GHOST! Come out of that, if you please; all yourneighbors have come to visit you and expect you to show the honors ofyour retreat!"
Many heads were now crowded together, peering into the dimness of theshaft. It sloped inward and downward into a wider opening that wasalmost like a small chamber in its dimensions. Another entrance led tothis chamber, a passage of a few feet in length, burrowed beneath theground and opening upon the hillside beyond. Through this little tunnelcame fresh air and light; and within the chamber had been collected theodds and ends of things which had caught the half-wit's fan
cy. A bundleof straw and a worn-out horse-blanket which somebody had discardedformed his bed. Some bits of broken crockery furnished his table, aboard wedged against the rock. A spring of water gushed from one wallof the chamber and trickled into the depths below, and a curious odorescaped from the spring.
The leather jacket, the glazed hat with its bedraggled scarlet feathers,lay carefully folded upon the straw pallet, and its owner sat beside thejacket shamefaced and terrified by this intrusion upon his retreat. Butit was something else that caught Dorothy's attention--a simple suit ofdenim that had once been blue but was now faded by sun and water to aghostly white. Peter wore these now and--she recognized them.
"Peter! Peter! So _you_ are the good 'Ghost' that came in the night andtilled my garden for me! Come out, come out and let me thank you!"
Though he had obstinately refused to answer the call of Seth Winters,the voice of the girl he had so secretly served, because she had beenkind to him, was instantly obeyed. He climbed out of the shaft and,taking hold of her skirt as he had done once before, stood foolishlysmiling while his good friend, the blacksmith, gayly announced:
"Behold the 'Haunt' of Skyrie! The honestest, most innocent, mostgrateful of Ghosts! During the years it was vacant he made Skyrie hishome, sleeping of winters in its hillside room, and in summer seekingthis cool retreat where we have just unearthed him. He must, he will,_haunt_ no more; for if I judge aright the new master of old Skyrie willat once engage him to take the place of Pa Babcock, resigned. A bettergardener there isn't 'up-mounting.' A more devoted servitor no man canfind, once his affection is won as our little Dorothy has won it. Whatsay, neighbors Chester? Will you secure your greatly needed 'hired man'and forever 'lay the ghost' of Skyrie at one 'fell swoop'?"
"Aye, aye! Hear!" cried father John, entering fully into theblacksmith's spirit, even while he did not fully understand, tillDorothy explained all the mysterious, yet beneficent, happenings of thepast few weeks; and then not only he but mother Martha bade the poorwaif welcome to their home, while all the others standing by applaudedvigorously.
"But this isn't all we came to see. The gold mine, the gold mine! Petermay be human gold, but the rich yellow metal is what we want!" criedHerbert, when the cheers had died away.
"Who'll go first?" asked somebody.
"Why, I, of course!" returned young Montaigne, springing recklessly intothat rough shaft which veered from the wide safety of the upper chamber.
Whereat a strange thing happened. Peter dropped the fold of his newmistress's skirt and stepped hastily forward, warning by gestures andhis uncertain mumbling that Herbert should not go. Alas! the warning wasuseless. The spirit of adventure was on the whole party, an eager desireto be the first who should unearth a "nugget," and even cautious JimBarlow caught the infection, while Dorothy ran forward as lightly as ifshe were to cross only the smooth meadow.
As the heads disappeared below the surface of the ground, and the shoutsof those who scrambled downward over the rude rocky shaft grew fainter,Peter was seized with a terrible trembling and stood as if rooted to theground in fear. A minute more and a girl's scream aroused him.Dorothy's! She was falling--falling--into an unknown depth! Onemis-step, the slimy stones, the unforeseen peril! Both Jim and Herbertwere already far below, following with extreme care, if still with allthe speed possible, the tortuous excavation, in search of that deludingmetal which has lured so many to their ruin. Only Peter Piper, thesimple, to hear and comprehend.
As if by magic his trembling ceased and with a cat-like leap, so swiftand soft it was, he had also disappeared beneath the ground. Thensomething whispered to the Chesters of their darling's danger. Theypressed forward to the edge of the pit, and almost equally pale withfear, Mrs. Cecil joined them; clinging to Martha with a sympathy ofdistress which broke down in a moment the younger woman's dislike of theelder.
None of the trio were prepared for that which followed. Dorothy's slightfigure came hurtling out of the pit's mouth, tossed to their very feetby the long arms of Peter Piper. A moment later he stood beside them,exhausted, silent; while the girl explained, as her own breath returnedand terror subsided:
"Oh! he saved my life! He saved my life! I was falling--I knew--it wasdeath--those awful stones--so dark. He caught me, he knew. He isn't'simple' but wise; wise and oh! so good! Peter, you blessed Ghost! I oweyou my life!"
But this excitement ebbed only to give way to another. When Dorothy hadrecovered her composure and sat quietly beside her elders, Peter besideher, with no desire left on her part for either explorations or thebiggest of "nuggets," a fresh cry of alarm sounded from the mine. Thecry preluded the frenzied rush out of the chasm of those who couldescape it first; but it was upon Herbert and Jim that all wereintent--upon poor Jim more than the other.
As they came up Peter Piper cast one glance upon them, then hid his faceand shuddered.
"A horse! A doctor! Quick, quick! For the love of God, a horse!" gaspedHerbert, and in a few broken words explained:
"We got into a nest--a nest of serpents. One had raised its head--Ididn't see it--to strike my hand! Jim--Jim caught it, it swungaround--bit him--O God! Don't let him die! He offered his life for minewhom he didn't like! He saved me! Can nobody--nobody save him?"
With his arm around his rescuer the frantic Herbert searched theblanched faces for some sign of help; and out of the startled silencewhich greeted his appeal came Seth Winters's calm voice:
"To my shop. I've medicines there. I'll take one side, you the other,Herbert. If need be, we can make a 'chair' and carry him between us. Youcan walk, for a while anyway, Jim. You are not going to die. Steady now,on your own feet, steady--as when you so nobly threw away your life tosave the boy you 'didn't like'!"
The shop was, indeed, the nearest place where help could be obtained,and they started, all following; a sad and terrified party that but anhour before had been so gay and happy. And presently Jim's nervereturned to him, for it had been worsted for the moment by the cries andassertions of the others that he was doomed to death.
But where was Dorothy--who should have been foremost with sympathy andcheer? Halfway down the mountain before the company had all left thatunlucky south meadow. Fully down by the time the smithy was reached.Race, Portia, race. A life hangs on your fleetness! Jim's life, Jim's!Who has proved that "greater love hath no man but that he lay down hislife for his friend." And this was more than "friend"--it was the boy"he didn't like"--yet by the strange rule of nature, was forever afterto be the Damon to his Pythias. Experience has long proved that thesurest way to overcome an aversion to a person is to do that person akindness.
Where, too, was Peter, the simple? Not far behind his faithful friend,the smith, having lingered only long enough to dart into the woods andfill his hands with a certain herb he knew; then to follow and reach thesmithy just in time to hear its owner say:
"Faint, Jim? Drink this. Herbert, bare his arm. It will be heroictreatment, my lad, but, _my hero_--bear it! and live to teach the worlda lesson."
Some turned their eyes aside as the smith drew from the glowing forge awhite-hot iron and held it to the wound upon Jim's sunburned flesh. NotJim! this wise old man toward whom his young soul had yearned from thebeginning had called him "hero": and within himself he knew that he wasfar more such now than when he had rescued Dorothy from bondage, thoughthey had termed him "hero" even then.
The wound cauterized, came Peter Piper with his healing leaves, bringinginfinite relief; and soon as might be came also Dorothy upon her piebaldmare, and the doctor close beside her on his own fleet steed; approvingall that had been done, assuring everybody that no fatal results couldfollow such prompt treatment; and especially commending Peter Piper forhis knowledge of those simples which mother Nature grows so luxuriantlyfor the use of all her children.
Thus ended the picnic and the search for hidden gold. But so soon asmost of the company had departed from the over-crowded shop, Jim wasmade to ride upon Portia home to Skyrie, though he was now able to smileand declare that h
is legs were so long they would drag upon the ground.
However, he managed to hold them sufficiently high and to adapt himselfto the despised saddle of a girl. With him went the few who knew himbest; Seth Winters and Herbert, Mrs. Cecil and Martha, Helenaherself--not to be outdone in gratitude for her brother's life; andJohn Chester with his "little maid" beside him. They had all anticipatedfinding a restful quiet at Skyrie; but they failed. The moving events ofthat memorable day were not all accomplished yet.
On the little upper porch sat Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne, waiting the returnof Skyrie's owners to lay before them the scheme first evolved by theirson and heir, and now indorsed with all heartiness by themselves.Chatting familiarly alongside, was Friend Oliver Sands; never morebenignant nor complacent than now, and never more persistently engagedin "squeezing his hands" than at that hour.
Below, on the stone doorsteps, sat the two surveyors who had once beforevisited the cottage; and at sight of these the hearts of the elderChester's sank, while Seth merrily whispered to Dorothy:
"Behold the hour is ripe and I _am_ here to see!"
One other group there was, strolling idly about the garden, toying withLady Rosalind, and contentedly amusing themselves until such time asthey could make their errand to Skyrie known. Nobody seemed to knowthem; even Seth Winters failed to recognize the strangers and, for amoment, feared what they might have come to say. The next instant hisbrow cleared and his laughter was merrier than before.
Mr. Montaigne was the first to state his business, when once all wereready to listen. It was extremely simple and concerned Dorothy most ofall. Said he:
"My dear young lady, we have come to invite you to accompany us toEurope. We shall leave New York in a few weeks and remain abroad forone, possibly two, years. We are going to give our children the benefitof foreign education, which we want you to share with them and alongwhatever lines you, or your parents, select. Of course, there will be noexpense to you, who will be to us exactly as our own daughter, and whomwe have learned to love almost as such. Will you go?"
For a moment nobody spoke. Then said Dorothy very quietly, and scarcelydaring to look at Helena or Herbert in their so evident disappointment:
"I thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Montaigne, for your great kindness. It isvery wonderful that you should have shown it to me whom you have knownsuch a little while. But I cannot go. My father and mother need meand--I need them. A foreign education would not help me to earn myliving as I must do some day, and--I thank you again, but I cannot go."
To Helena's and Herbert's pleadings, which so strenuously followed, shecould give no other answer. The invitation had been most tempting to herwho so dearly loved to see new places and new people, but--her answerstill was: "No."
Then the family from the Towers departed and Friend Oliver began:
"Thee is a good daughter, Dorothy Chester, and thee has well said thatas a poor girl thee will need only the plainest education."
"Beg pardon, sir, but I did not say that! I shall get just as good aneducation as I can, but I won't turn my back on those I love and wholove me for the sake of getting it. That's already planned for. Dear Mr.Winters is going to open a school in the old smithy and all of us are toattend it. We've talked it over many a day, knowing how soon our summerfriends would be away and our own real time for study and work wouldcome. Jim and I, all the Babcocks, and----"
But the miller had scant interest in these plans. He interrupted her byturning to Martha Chester and saying:
"I suppose, Martha, that thee has reconsidered thy objection to sellingsouth meadow, or are ready to pay me my money loaned thee 'on demand.'Is thee ready?"
"Oh! sir!" began the troubled housemistress, and was amazed that a childshould interfere by saying:
"Wait a moment, mother dear. How much do my parents owe you 'ondemand'?"
At a nod from Mr. Winters she had slipped away and as swiftly returnedand now stood before the astonished company, holding a fat purse in herhands and calmly awaiting the miller's reply.
For an instant he could not make it. His amazement was too deep. Thenext with a sort of chuckle, as if sure that so large an amount couldnot be held in so small a compass, he announced the sum with interest infull.
"Very well. Here, father, is the money. More I think than you will need.It is mine. My very own to give to you and mother, as I do give it now.Mr. Winters knows. He will explain. Pay the man, do please, and let himgo."
John Chester glanced at Seth Winters and received that gentleman'sconfirmatory nod; then he promptly opened the pocket-book and countedout the crisp banknotes which freed him and his home from the society ofthe miller and his men.
Oliver departed. If he were crestfallen he did not show it, and in thatrespect the worthy smith and Mrs. Cecil both were disappointed. He evenventured to congratulate the Chesters upon the possession of "such aforehanded" daughter and to wish them every prosperity. With that andsummoning his surveyors, he took his benign presence out of the way.
Strangely enough, the surveyors did not at once follow, even to securetheir wage which so just a man would surely pay. They even made light ofsuch wages. During the time of waiting they had made other possiblearrangements with the gentlemen in the garden, and they waited stillfurther, with admirable patience, to see if these arrangements werecorrect.
It was time for the strangers in the garden to have their own littleinterview, and, seeing them approach, poor mother Martha passed her handacross her tired brow, confused by all that had happened and dreadingwhat might come. Too tired, as yet, to fully realize herself that herdreadful "debt" no longer rested on her shoulders.
But she need not have feared. These strangers were plain business men,with no sentiment about them. Said the foremost:
"Madam, we represent a syndicate prepared to buy, or operate in commonwith you, an iron mine that has been discovered on your land. Inconnection with this mine there is also a mineral spring from which arich revenue may be obtained if properly managed. I have the honor tolay before you the two propositions of our company and to close with youas soon as the legal forms can be completed. It is royalty or opensale--if you will consider either."
Oh, but it was well that two such wise and faithful counselors as SethWinters and Mrs. Calvert were present then to advise theseinexperienced Chesters for their own best advantage. Be assured they didso, and subsequently that "deal" was accomplished on the wise "royalty"basis, which proved, in one sense, indeed a "gold mine"; although the"gold" was but pure iron and a most unsavory water--that localphysicians had always maintained would cure many diseases, and whichsoon received widespread attention elsewhere.
Such a day and such an ending! What time more fitting to take atemporary leave of our dear Dorothy? Whose life moves forward inblessing, as all lives should move, and whom we must come back to atsome happy, future day.
All partings hold a touch of sadness--so must ours. But there isbrightness in the sunset which floods the fields of Skyrie, a promise ofgreater brightness on the morrow. Before the night falls, while thesunshine still lasts, let us bid our heroine a real, old-fashionedfarewell:
"Well, Dorothy, good-by!"
THE END
* * * * *
THE DOROTHY BOOKS
By EVELYN RAYMOND
These stories of an American girl by an American author have made"Dorothy" a household synonym for all that is fascinating. Truth andrealism are stamped on every page. The interest never flags, and isofttimes intense. No more happy choice can be made for gift books, sosure are they to win approval and please not only the young in years,but also "grown-ups" who are young in heart and spirit.
Dorothy Dorothy at Skyrie Dorothy's Schooling Dorothy's Travels Dorothy's House Party Dorothy in California Dorothy on a Ranch Dorothy's House Boat Dorothy at Oak Knowe Dorothy's Triumph Dorothy's Tour
Copyright, 1907, by The Platt & Peck Co.
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