CHAPTER II
AN UNFORTUNATE AFFAIR
But nothing so dire had happened. Crossing the grassy stretch before thecottage Dorothy had caught sight of Jim Barlow's familiar figure, comingalong the tree-bordered lane which led to Deerhurst, and had hurried tomeet him. The shrubbery hid her from view of Mrs. Chester and theBabcock girls, and for a moment mother Martha's heart sank with the samedread she had known while her beloved child had been absent from her."Kidnapped!" If Alfaretta had tried she couldn't have hit upon a moreterrifying word to her hearer.
"O Jim! Did ever anybody see such a beautiful, beau-ti-ful spot as this?Let me hold Peter's chain--the darling dog! No, he won't get away fromme! I shan't let him. You can lead Ponce--but why did you bring them?Did Mrs. Calvert know? How do you like Deerhurst? Are you going to behappy there? Shall you have a chance to study some? Must you work in thegarden all the time? Oh! I want to know everything all at once and youare so slow to talk! But, Jim dear, just stop a minute and look--look!Isn't our new home lots prettier than the little brick house where weused to live--77 Brown Street, Baltimore! Do stop and look--please do!"
Obedient Jim did pause, for this small maid could always compel him toher will, though he felt he was half-disobedient to his real mistress,Mrs. Cecil, in doing so. She had sent him with a basket of fruit fromher own fine garden for the family at Skyrie and had bidden him take theGreat Danes along to give them their morning exercise. They were wildwith delight over the outing, and their vigorous gambols not onlythreatened to upset the basket hung on his arm but made him caution:
"Look out, Dorothy Chester! That there dog'll get away, an' then what'llhappen?"
"Why--he'll get away, silly! You just said so yourself! But I won't lethim--Quiet, Peter, bad dog! Down, sir, down! No, I'm not one bit afraidof you now, even if once you did nearly kill me and scared me out of mysenses! O Jim! I'm so happy--so happy! Almost too happy to live. If myprecious father were only well! That's the one thing isn't justperfect."
In her joy Dorothy gave her tall friend a rapturous pat on the shoulder,and though a swift flush rose to his sunburned cheek he shook off hercaress as he would the touch of a troublesome insect. In his eyes thislittle maid whom he had rescued from her imprisonment on Mrs. Stott'struck-farm was the most wonderful of human beings, with her dainty,graceful ways and her lovely, mobile face. All the same--she was a girl,and for girls, as such, James Barlow had a boyish contempt.
But she did not resent his action, indeed scarcely noticed it as,whirling about to suit her movements to those of Peter, she stillpointed to her new home:
"They say the man who built that house was queer, but seems to me he wasvery wise. All of stone, so, it looks almost like a big rock and partof the mountain itself. Such cute little, tiny-paned windows! Such afunny stairway going up to the second floor on the outside! There's alittle one inside--so narrow and twisted, Jim, that even I can hardlywalk straight up it but have to go sidewise. Then the back of the houseis even with the ground. I mean that the biggest, best room of all,which is father John's, opens right on the garden. Two stories and acellar in front, only a wee low story behind! Like a piece of thehillside it's on. Then the vines! Did you ever see such beauties? Oh! Ilove it, I love it, already, and I've only been here one night. Whatwill it be when I've lived a long time there!"
"Huh! You'll get sick enough of it--'fore long too. S'pose you hain'theard it's _haunted_--but I have, an' 'tis!"
"Jim Barlow! How ridiculous and--how delightful! What sort of a 'haunt'is it? Masculine, feminine, or neuter?" demanded Dorothy C., clappingher hands.
"Look out! Don't you let go that dog! You hold him tight, I tell you!"returned the lad, as her sudden action loosened the chain attached toPeter's collar. But she caught it again, deftly, and faced her friend,vexed that she saw in his face no answering enthusiasm to her own overthe "loveliness" of Skyrie cottage.
"I haven't let go--yet, Master 'Fraid-cat! And you _shall_ say my homeis pretty!" she protested, imperatively. "Say it quick, too, 'cause Ihaven't had my breakfast and I have company waiting to eat it with me.Say it, Jim, say it!"
The boy laughed. He was very happy himself, that sunshiny morning, andfelt more at ease than he had done for many days, because, at last, hewas once more clad in blouse and overalls and knew that he had a busyday of congenial work before him. True, these working garments were newand of the best quality, provided by his new employer, but like in cutand comfort to those he had always worn. His feet alone bothered him,for a barefooted person could not be permitted about Deerhurst and hisshoes were stiff and troublesome. Now there's nothing more trying toone's temper than feet which "hurt," and it was physical discomfortmostly that made the lad's tongue sharp and his mood unsympathetic; andthus goaded to an enthusiasm he did not feel he retorted:
"Well, it's purty enough, then, but that ruff must leak like a sieve."
"It's all mossy green on one side----"
"Where the shingles is rotten."
"And the dear little window-panes are like an old-fashioned picture!"
"A right smart of 'em is cracked or burst entirely."
"O Jim! How very unromantic you are! But you cannot say but that thevines are beautiful!"
"I've heard they're fust-class for givin' folks the rheumatiz."
Dorothy's enthusiasm ebbed. Rheumatism was the one malady that sometimesaffected mother Martha's health. But she was not to be dashed byforebodings, and pointing to the garden declared:
"You cannot say a thing against our garden, anyway. Think of all thatroom for roses and posies and everything nice!"
"Garden? I call it a reg'lar weed-patch."
Dorothy heaved a sigh which seemed to come from her very shoes.
"You're--you're perfectly horrid, Jim Barlow. But I heard you say, once,while we were working on that truck-farm, that the thing you most longedfor--after your education--was to own land. Look yonder, all thatground, inside those big stone walls, is ours, _ours_! Mr. Barlow.Behold and envy! Even on that untilled land flowers grow. See them?"
"Pshaw! Them's mullein. Ain't no surer sign o' poor soil than a passelo' mullein stalks. Stuns and mullein--Your pa's got a job ahead of him!Now I'm goin' on. I was told to give this basket to Mis' Chester andthis note I've got in my jumper pocket to Mr. I'd ruther you'd take 'em,only I was _told_; and we've stood here foolin' so long, I've got tohurry like lightnin'. Take care that dog!"
With that Jim set his aching feet once more in the path of duty andDorothy C. marched along beside him, her head held high in disdain butwith a twinkle in her eye and mischief in her heart. Jim didn't likegirls! Well, there was Alfaretta Babcock waiting for him, and he shouldbe made to go through a formal introduction in punishment for his wantof sympathy! She managed that he should precede her through the narrowdoorway, into the very presence of the unknown, and chuckled in delightover his sudden, awkward pause, his flustered manner, and his attempt toback out of the little kitchen.
Mrs. Chester had gone up the stairs, to help her husband around thecorner of the house and down the slope to the kitchen where breakfastwas waiting and the three Misses Babcock with it. They sat in a row onthe old lounge, their pink sunbonnets folded upon their blue-print laps,alert with the novelty of their situation and for "what next."
"Miss Alfaretta Babcock--Mr. James Barlow, of Baltimore. The MissesBaretta and Claretta Babcock--Mr. Barlow," announced Dorothy withperfect gravity, yet anticipating a funny, awkward scene. But she wasunprepared for what really did happen, as Alfaretta promptly left thelounge, swept a most remarkable courtesy before the bashful lad, andseizing both his hands--dog-chain and all--in her own plump ones,exclaimed:
"Oh! Ain't I glad I come! You're the 'hero' that Mis' Judge Satterleecalls you! I meant to get to know you, soon's ever I could, but thisbeats the Dutch! I saw you in Mis' Calvert's carriage, last night alldressed up, and I was scared of you, but I ain't now. You might be justMatthew, or Mark, or Luke, though you're too tall for John. He's mylittlest brother. Pshaw! To
think any plain kind of a boy, same's them,could be a 'hero.' Ain't that queer? Did you come to breakfast, too? Youfetched yours in a basket, didn't you? I would, too, but ma she hadn'tnothing nice cooked up, and she was sort of scared offerin' city folkscountry victuals. My! Here comes Mis' Chester and her man. Won't they betickled to see you!"
For a moment, after Alfaretta seized him, Jim looked full as flusteredas Dorothy had desired: then all his awkwardness vanished before thehearty good will of the girl and he found himself shaking her hands witha warmth of cordiality equaling her own. She was as honest andsimple-natured as himself, and instead of being amused by their meetingDorothy soon felt something much nearer envy of Alfaretta's power towin liking and confidence.
Then she saw through the window father John limping down the path on hiscrutches, and hurried out to meet him; also to ask of the housemistress:
"Isn't there something I can do to help? How can we feed so many people?for, mother dear, Jim's come, too!"
"Oh! that's all right, deary. I cooked a lot of stuff, yesterday; made afeast for your homecoming. We'll have to use for breakfast what wasmeant for dinner. I was dismayed by those children coming, but I'm morethan glad to have that boy here. We all owe him much, Dolly darling;"and mother Martha caught her restored child in a grateful embrace.
Poor Jim was far more ill at ease in the presence of Mr. and Mrs.Chester than he had been with Alfaretta: fidgeting under their thanksand praises, which they had vainly tried to express during their briefinterview of the night before, and honestly astonished that anybodyshould make such ado over so trifling a matter.
"'Twan't nothin'. Not a mite. Anybody'd ha' felt sorry for a girl wascoaxed away from her folks, that-a-way. Pshaw! Don't! No. I've had mybreakfast a'ready. I couldn't. Mis' Calvert, the old lady, she sent meto fetch this basket o' garden sass to Mis' Chester: an' this letter wasfor you, sir. I was to give it to you an' nobody elst. I'm obleeged toye, ma'am, but I couldn't. I couldn't, nohow. I'm--I'm chock-full!"
With this rather inelegant refusal, Jim turned his back on theneatly-spread table and fled through the doorway, dragging Ponce withhim, overturning the too curious Claretta upon the floor, and making avain effort to loosen Peter's chain from the arm of the chair whereDorothy had hastily fastened it.
The result was disaster. Both dogs jerked themselves free and gaylydashed forward toward the road leading down the mountain to the villagesat its foot, instead of that leafy lane which would have brought themhome to their own kennel. Their long chains dangled behind them, orwhirled from side to side, catching in wayside obstructions, but in nowise hindering their mad rush.
Scarcely less mad was poor Jim's speed following in pursuit, and the daythat had begun so joyously for him was destined to end in gloom. Onlythe week previous there had been an alarm of "mad dog" in the twinvillages, "Upper" and "Lower" Riverside, and local authority was keen tocorral any unmuzzled canines; and when these formidable Great Danes ofMrs. Calvert tore wildly through the street, people hastily retreatedindoors, while the two constables with pistols, joined by a few bravecitizens, gave Peter and Ponce a race for their lives.
To them it was all fun. Never, in their city restricted career, had theydreamed of such wide stretches over which to exercise their mightylimbs; and, heretofore, during their summer stays at Deerhurst they hadbeen closely kept within bounds. They were so big that many people werefrightened by that mere fact of size and it had been useless for theirdoting mistress to assure her neighbors that:
"They are as gentle as kittens unless they are interfered with. Theyalways recognize the difference between honest persons and tramps."
The argument was not convincing. Even a "tramp" might be honest and, inany case, would certainly object to being bitten; therefore thebeautiful creatures had lived their days out at the end of a chain andnow, for the first, tasted the sweets of liberty.
The affair ended by the dogs escaping and finally making their way homealmost unobserved, very weary, and reposing with an air of greatinnocence before their kennel door, where Ephraim the colored coachmandiscovered them and ejaculated in great surprise:
"Fo' de lan' o' love! How come dese yeah dogs done gone got dey chainsbroke? 'Peahs lak somebody gwine a spite my Miss Betty fo' keepin' 'em,anyhow. Mebbe"--here Ephraim's black face turned a shadepaler--"mebbe--somepin's gwine to happen! Dere sholy is! Mebbe--mebbesome dem burgaleers I'se heerd of gwine--gwine----"
Visions of disasters too dire to be put into words cut short the oldman's speech, and hastily fetching pieces of rope he proceeded torefasten the dogs to the kennel staples, and was much surprised thatthey submitted so quietly. Then, being as wise as he was faithful, heresolved to say nothing, at present, to the lady of Deerhurst about thisincident, reflecting that:
"My Miss Betty she ain' sca'ed o' nobody, burgaleers er nothin'. Ef ol'Eph done tol' her erbout dis yeah succumstance she's boun' to set up dewhole endurin' night a-lookin' out fo' trouble, wid dat derepistol-volver in her han's, all ready fo' to shoot de fust creachah putsfoot on groun'. Lak's not shoot de wrong one too. She's done got apow'ful quick tempah, my Miss Betty has, same's all my Somerset familyhad, bein' fust quality folks lak dey was. No, suh! Dere's times fo' totalk an' dere's times fo' to keep yo' mouf shut. Dis yeah's one demtimes, shuah ernuf."
So, fully satisfied which of these "times" the present chanced to be,the old coachman departed stableward to attend upon his beloved bays andto make ready for his mistress's morning drive.
Meanwhile, on the street of Lower Riverside, Jim Barlow had come tofresh grief. In his frantic chase of the runaway dogs he had almostcaught up with Ponce, who suddenly darted into an open doorway of thepost-office just as a gentleman emerged from it, carrying a pile ofletters and papers just arrived in the early mail. A collision of thethree was inevitable, and Ponce was the only one who came out from itintact.
With outstretched arms, believing that he had already captured one ofthe Great Danes, poor Jim threw himself headlong upon the gentleman, whostaggered under the unexpected blow and fell backward upon the floor,with the lad atop. In the ensuing struggle to rise they forgot the dog,the animal rushing out of doors again as swiftly as he had rushedwithin.
Instantly there was great commotion. The postmaster hurried to therescue, as did the crowd of other persons awaiting the distribution ofthe mail; but the assaulted gentleman proved as agile as he was furiousand, as he gained his own feet, Jim found himself being shaken till helost his balance again and went down at the stranger's side.
"You unmannerly lubber! How dare you? I say, how dare you knock me downlike that? Set your dog on me, would you? Do you know who I am?"
The lad was slow to anger, but once roused could be as furious as theother. His natural impulse was greater than his knowledge of the world,and his answer was to send a telling blow into the gentleman's face.This was "assault" in truth, and oddly enough seemed to restore thevictim to perfect coolness. With a bow he accepted the return of theeyeglasses which had been knocked from his nose during the melee andturned to the perturbed postmaster, saying:
"Mr. Spence, where is the nearest justice of the peace?"
"Why--why, Mr. Montaigne, sir, I think he----"
"Simmons is out of town. He and Squire Randall have both gone toNewburgh on that big case, you know," interposed a bystander.
"Sure enough. Well then, Mr. Montaigne, the nearest justice availablethis morning is Seth Winters, the blacksmith, up-mountain. Right nearyour own place, sir, you know."
"Thanks. Do you know this boy?"
"Never saw him before," answered Mr. Spence. Then, as Jim started tomake his way outward through the crowd, he laid a firmly detaining handupon his shoulder and forced him to remain or again resort to violence."But I'll find out, sir, if you wish."
"Do so, please. Or I presume a constable can do that for me. As for you,young ruffian--we shall meet again."
With that the gentleman flicked off some of the dust which had lodgedupon his fine clothing, again carefully read
justed his glasses, andstepped out to the smart little trap awaiting his convenience.Everything about the equipage and his own appearance betokened wealth,as well as did the almost servile attentions of his fellow townsmen;though one old man to whom he was a stranger inquired:
"That the fellow who's built that fine house on the Heights, beyondDeerhurst?"
Mr. Spence wheeled about and demanded in surprise:
"What? _you_ here, Winters? And don't you know your own mountainneighbors? Did you see the whole affair?"
"I do not know that gentleman, though, of course, I do know hisemployees, who have brought his horses to me to be shod. Nor do I callanybody a 'neighbor' till I've found him such. The accident of livingside by side can't make neighbors. My paper, please? We're going to havea glorious day."
It was noticeable that while the roughly clad old man was speaking, theexcited voices of the others in the office had quieted entirely, andthat as he received his weekly paper--his "one extravagance"--they alsoremembered and attended to the business which had brought them there.
As Mr. Winters left the place he laid his hand upon Jim's shoulder andsaid:
"Come with me, my lad. Our roads lie together."
The boy glanced into the rugged yet benignant face turned toward him andsaw something in it which calmed his own anger; and without a word heturned and followed.
"Goodness! If the young simpleton hasn't gone off with the Squire of hisown accord!" remarked one they had left behind.
But untutored Jim Barlow knew nothing of law or "justices." All he knewwas that he had looked into the eyes of a friend and trusted him.