Dorothy at Skyrie

  CHAPTER III

  ON THE ROAD TO SOUTH MEADOW

  For a moment the group in the kitchen at Skyrie were dismayed by JimBarlow's sudden departure and the escape of the dogs. Then Dorothy, whoknew him best, declared:

  "He'll catch them. Course. Jim always can do what he wants to do;and--shall we never, never, have our breakfast? Why, Alfaretta, youthoughtful girl! Why didn't I know enough to do that myself? Not leaveit to you, the 'company'!"

  Mrs. Chester turned back from the doorway, where she had been trying tofollow the dogs' movements, and saw that their guest had quietlypossessed herself of a colander from the closet and had hulled theberries into it; and that she was now holding it over the little sinkand gently rinsing the fruit with cold water.

  The housemistress smiled her prompt approval, though she somewhatmarveled at this stranger's assured manner, which made her as much athome in another's house as in her own.

  "Why, Alfaretta, how kind! Thank you very much. How fragrant those wildberries are! You must have a good mother to have been taught suchhelpful ways."

  "Yes, ma'am. She's smarter'n lightnin', ma is. She's a terrible worker,too, and pa he says she tires him out she's so driv' all the time. Doyou sugar your strawberries in the dish? or let folks do it theirselves,like Mis' Judge Satterlee does? She's one the 'ristocratics livesup-mounting here and a real nice woman, even if she is rich. Pa he saysno rich folks can be nice. He says everybody'd ought to have just thesame lot of money and no difference. But ma says 't if pa had all themoney there was he'd get rid of it quicker'n you could say JackRobinson. She says if 'twas all divided just the same 'twouldn't be notime at all 'fore it would all get round again to the same hands had itfirst. She says the smart ones 'd get it and the lazy ones 'd loseit--Claretta Babcock! Wipe your nose. Ma put a nice clean rag in yourpocket, and come to breakfast. It's ready, ain't it, Mis' Chester?"

  The greatly amused Mr. Chester had taken a chair by the window and drawnDorothy to his side; whence, without offering her own services, she hadwatched the proceedings of mother Martha and Alfaretta. The one hadcarefully unpacked the basket which Jim had brought, and found itcontained not only some fine fruit but a jar of honey, a pan of "hotbread"--without which no southern breakfast is considered complete--andhalf a boiled ham. For a moment, as the mistress of Skyrie surveyedthese more substantial offerings she was inclined to resent them. A bitof fruit--that was one thing; but, poor though she might be, she had notyet arrived at the point of being grateful for "cold victuals"!

  Yet she was almost as promptly ashamed of the feeling and remembered asaying of her wiser husband's: "It takes more grace to accept a favorthan to bestow one." Besides, with these three hungry visiting children,the addition to her pantry stores would be very timely.

  "Such a breakfast as this is! I never laughed so much at any meal in mylife!" cried Dorothy, at last finding a chance to edge in a word of herown between Alfaretta's incessant chatterings. "But, Alfaretta, do theyalways call you by your whole, full name?"

  "No, they don't. Most the time I'm just Alfy, or Sis. Baretta she'smostly just Retty; and Clary's Clary. Saves time, that way; though masays no use having high-soundin' names without using 'em, so she neverclips us herself. Pa he does. He says life's too short and he ain't gottime to roll his tongue 'round so much. But ma she tells him 't a man 'tnever does anything else might as well talk big words as little ones. Pahe's a Nanarchist. Ever see one? They're awful queer-lookin'; least pais, an' I s'pose the rest is just like him. His hair's real red and henever combs it. He'd disdain to! And he's got the longest, thickestwhiskers of anybody in Riverside, Upper or Lower, or Newburgh either.He's terrible proud of his whiskers, but ma don't like 'em. She saysthey catch dirt and take away all his ambition. She says if he'd cut 'emoff and look more like other men she'd be real proud of him, he's sucha good talker. Ma says I'm just like him, that way," naively concludedthis entertaining young person, who saw no reason why her own familyaffairs should not become public property. Then without waiting for herhostess to set her the example she coolly pushed back from the table,announcing with satisfaction: "I'm done: and I've et real hearty too.Where's your dishpan at, Mis' Chester? I'll wash up for you, then we canall go outdoors and look 'round. I s'pose you've been down to the goldmine, ain't you?"

  "Gold mine? Is there one on these premises? Why, that's the very thingwe need!" laughed father John, working his chair backward from leg toleg and taking the crutches Dorothy brought him. Even yet she could notkeep the look of pity from her brown eyes whenever she saw the onceactive postman depend upon these awkward, "wooden feet," as he jestinglycalled them.

  But he had become quite familiar with them now, and managed to get aboutthe old farm with real alacrity, and had already laid many ingeniousplans for working it. He had a hopeful, sunny nature, and never lookedupon the dark side of things if he could help it. As he often told hiswife, she "could do enough of that for both of them:" and though he hadnow fallen upon dark days he looked for every ray of sunshine that mightbrighten them.

  Not the least of these was the safe return of his adopted daughter, andwith her at hand he felt that even his lameness was a mere trifle andnot at all a bar to his success. Succeed he would--he must! There was noother thing left possible. What if his feet had failed him? Was he notstill a man, with a clear head and infinite patience? Besides, as hequoted to Martha: "God never shuts one door but He opens another."

  Now as he rose to go outdoors with Dorothy he remembered the letter JimBarlow had brought him. Letter? It appeared rather like some legaldocument, with its big envelope and the direction written upon it:"_Important._ Not to be opened until after my death, unless I personallydirect otherwise. (Signed), Elisabeth Cecil Somerset-Calvert." Theenvelope was addressed to himself, by his own full name, and "in caseof his death," to his wife, also by her full title. The date of a fewdays previous had been placed in an upper corner, and the whole matterwas, evidently, one of deliberate consideration.

  Calling Mrs. Chester aside he showed it to her and they both realizedthat they had received some sort of trust, to be sacredly guarded: butwhy should such have been intrusted to them--mere humble acquaintancesof the great lady who had bestowed it? and where could it be most safelykept?

  After a moment's pondering mother Martha's face lost its perplexity and,taking the paper from her husband's hand, she whispered:

  "I know! I've just thought of a place nobody would ever suspect. I'llhide it and tell you--show and when----"

  Then all at once they perceived the too bright eyes of Alfaretta Babcockfixed upon them with a curiosity that nothing escaped. In their interestconcerning the letter they had forgotten her, busy at her task in therear of the room, and the others had already gone out of doors; yet evenin the one brief glimpse she caught of that long, yellow envelope, sheknew its every detail. Of course, she was too far away to distinguishthe words written upon it, but she could have described to a nicetywhere each line was placed and its length. Nor did she hesitate todisclose her knowledge, as she exclaimed:

  "My! That was a big letter that 'hero' boy brought, wasn't it? Have youread it yet? Ain't you going to? Pshaw! I'd like to know what it's allabout. I would so, real well. Ma she likes to hear letters read, too,and once we got one from my aunt who lives out west. My aunt is my pa'ssister, an' she wanted him to move out there an' make a man of himself;but ma she said he couldn't do that no matter what part of the countryhe lived in, so he might's well stay where he was, where she was raisedand folks 'round knew _she_ was the right sort if _he_ wasn't. So westayed: but ma she carried that letter round a-showin' it to folks tillit got all wore to rags, and Diary got it in her mouth an' nigh chokedto death, tryin' to swaller it. So that was the end o' that!" concludedMiss Babcock, giving her dishcloth a wring and an airy flirt, whichwould have annoyed the careful housemistress had she been there to see.

  However, at the very beginning of Alfaretta's present harangue, she hadperceived that it would be a lengthy one and had slipped away witho
utexplaining to her husband where she would put the letter. Mr. Chesteralso drew himself up on his crutches and swung across the floor and outof doors. Alfaretta's gossip, which had at first amused him, now boredhim, and he was ashamed for her that she had so little respect for herparents as to relate their differences to strangers. Unconsciously, heput into his usual friendly manner a new sternness: but this had nofurther effect upon the talkative girl than to make her probe her memoryfor something more interesting. Following him through the doorway shelaid her hand on his shoulder and begged:

  "Say, Mr. Chester, let me fetch that big wheel-chair o' yours an' let meroll you down through the south medder to the mine. To where it'scovered, I mean. I can do it first-rate. I'm as strong as strong! See myarms? That comes from helpin' ma with the wash. Once I done it allalone and Mis' Judge Satterlee she said 'twas 'most as good as ma 'dhave done. Do let me, Mr. Chester! I'd admire to!"

  The ex-postman looked around and whistled. There was no use in trying tooppose or frown upon this amazing little maid, whose round face was theembodiment of good-nature, and whose desire to help anybody andeverybody was so sincere. Besides, there was in her expression anabsence of that "pity" which hurt his pride, even when seen upon hisdarling Dorothy's own face. She seemed to accept his crutches androlling chair as quite in the natural order of things, like her ownsturdy bare feet and her big red arms.

  "Well, my lass, certainly you are kindness itself. I thought I hadhobbled over nearly the whole of this little farm, but I chanced upon no'mine' of any sort, though if there's one existing I'd mightily like tofind it. But I don't think you could roll me very far on this roughground. Wheel-chairs are better fitted to smooth floors and pavementsthan rocky fields."

  Alfaretta paid no attention to his objection, except to spin the chairout from its corner of the kitchen, or living-room, and to place itready for his use. She was as full of delight and curiosity concerningthis helpful article as over every other new thing she saw, and promptlyexpressed herself thus:

  "I'm as proud as Punch to be let handle such an elegant chair. My heart!Ain't them leather cushions soft as chicken feathers! And the wheels goround easy as fallin' off a log. I'd admire to be lame myself if I couldbe rid around in such a sort o' carriage as this. Must have cost a pileof money. How much was it, Mr. Chester?"

  "I don't know. It was a gift from my old comrades at the post-office:but don't, child, don't 'admire' to possess anything so terrible as thishelplessness of mine! With your young healthful body you are rich beyondmeasure."

  For the first time she saw an expression of gloom and almost despaircloud the cheerful face of her new acquaintance, and though she thoughthim very silly to consider health as good as wealth she did not say so;but with real gentleness helped him to swing his crippled body into thechair and set off at a swift pace across the field.

  All the others had preceded them; even Mrs. Chester having joined thegroup, determined not to lose sight of her Dorothy again, even for a fewmoments: and also resolved that, for once, she would forego her usualindustry and make a happy holiday.

  For a time all went well. The ground near the house was not so veryrough and the slope southward was a gentle one. The chair rolled easilyenough and, for a wonder, Alfaretta's tongue was still. Not since he hadarrived at Skyrie had father John had so comfortable a chance to lookover the land; and whatever gloom he had for a moment shown soon gaveway before the beauty of the day and the delight of feasting his eyesupon Dorothy's trim little figure, skipping along before him.

  Presently she came running back to join him and with her own hand besideAlfy's, on the handle of his chair, to start that talkative body on afresh topic.

  "Tell us about the ghost Jim Barlow said 'haunts' dear Skyrie, Alfy,please. You've heard of it, too, course."

  "Heard? I should say I had! Why, everybody knows _that_, an' I can'tscarce believe you don't yourself. Pshaw! Then maybe you wouldn't havemoved up-mounting if you had ha' known. When she heard you was comin' mashe said how 't you must be real brave folks. She wouldn't live here ifyou'd give her the hull farm. _I--I seen--it once--myself!_" concludedAlfaretta, dropping her voice to an awestruck whisper and thrusting herhead forward to peer into father John's face and see if he believed her.

  He laughed and Dorothy clapped her hands, demanding:

  "What was he like? Was it a 'he' or a lady 'haunt'? How perfectlyromantic and delightful! Tell, tell, quick!"

  Alfaretta's face assumed a look of great solemnity and a shiver of realfear ran over her. These new people might laugh at the Skyrie ghost, butto her it was no laughing matter. Indeed, she had such a dread of thesubject that it had been the one her loquacious tongue had abjured,leaving it to the newcomer, Jim Barlow, to introduce it. But now--Well!If they wanted to hear about the dreadful thing it might be wise togratify them.

  "He's a--'he.' Everybody says that who's seen 'him,'" began thenarrator, still in an unnaturally subdued tone.

  "Good enough!" ejaculated Mr. Chester, gayly, entering into the spiritof fun he saw shining on Dorothy's face, and glad indeed that hisimpressionable child did not take this statement seriously. "Goodenough! He'll be company for me, for I greatly miss men companions."

  "I guess you won't like _him_ for no companion, Mr. Chester. Why, thevery place he stays the most is in--_that very--room you--come out of toyour breakfast_--where you stay, too!" cried Alfaretta, impressively."But other times he lives in the gold mine."

  Father John looked back at Dorothy and merrily quoted a verse--slightlyaltered to fit the occasion:

  "I never saw a Skyrie Ghost, I never hope to see one; But I can tell you, anyhow I'd rather see than be one."

  Dorothy as merrily and promptly joined in this remodeled ditty of the"Purple Cow," but they were destined never to complete it; because,absorbed in her own relation and astonished at their light treatment ofit, Alfaretta ceased to observe the smoothness or roughness of theirpath and inadvertently propelled the wheel-chair into a wide, openditch, whose edge was veiled by a luxurious growth of weeds.

  An instant later the wheels were uppermost, the two girls had beenprojected upon them, and poor father John buried beneath the whole.