CHAPTER V
AN ACCIDENT AND AN APPARITION
The screams of Dorothy and Alfaretta brought Mrs. Chester hurrying backto them and as she saw what had happened her alarm increased, for itseemed impossible that a helpless person, like her husband, should gothrough such an accident and come out safe.
For a moment her strength left her and she turned giddy with fear,believing that she had brought her invalid here only to be killed. Thenext instant she was helping the girls to free themselves from thetangle of wheels, briars, and limbs; and then all three took hold of theheavy chair to lift it from the prostrate man.
"John! John! Are you alive? Speak--do speak if you love me!" cried poormother Martha, frantic with anxiety.
But for a time, even after they had lifted him to the bank above, Mr.Chester lay still with closed eyes and no sign of life about him. Therewas a bruise upon his forehead where he had struck against a rock infalling; and, seeing him so motionless, poor Dorothy buried her face inher hands and sobbed aloud:
"Oh! I've killed him! I've killed my precious father!"
"There is a bridge across the ditch just yonder!--Why didn't you see it!How could you--" began Mrs. Chester; yet got no further in herup-braidings, for father John opened his eyes and looked confusedlyabout him.
Either the sound of voices or the liberal dash of cold water, whichthoughtful Alfaretta had rushed away to bring and throw upon him, hadrestored him to consciousness, and his beclouded senses rapidly becamenormal. It had been a great shock but, more fortunately than hisfrightened wife at first dared to believe, there were no broken bones,and it was with intense thankfulness that she now picked up his crutchesand handed them to him at his demand.
"Well, I reckon wooden feet are safest, after all! I've never--I'llnever go without them. Good thing I brought them--No, thank you!Walking's good!" he cried, with all his usual spirit though in a weakvoice.
They had managed to get the chair into position and found it asuninjured as its owner. A few scratches here and there marred the polishof the frame and one cushion had sustained an ugly rent. It had been avery expensive purchase for the donors and an ill-advised one. Alighter, cheaper chair would have been far more serviceable; and, asfather John tried to steady himself upon his crutches, he regarded itwith his familiar, whimsical smile that comforted them all more readilythan words:
"The boys might as well have given me an automobile! Wouldn't have beenmuch more clumsy--nor dangerous!" he declared, trying to swing himselfforward from the spot where he stood, striving to steady himself uponhis safer "wooden feet."
"O John! how can you joke? You might be--be dead!" wailed mother Martha,weeping and unnerved for the first time, now that all danger was past.
"And that's the best 'joke' of all. I might be but I'm not. So let's allheave--heave away! for that pleasant shore of a wide lounge anda--towel! With the best intentions--I've been ducked pretty wet!"
"That was my fault! I'm awful sorry but--but--that time John Babcock hefell off the barn roof ma she flung a whole pail of water right out therain-barrel onto him and that brung him to quicker'n scat. So Iremembered and I'm real sorry now," explained Alfaretta, more abashedthan ordinarily: and in her own heart feeling that the guilt ofcarelessness which caused the accident had been more hers thanDorothy's. "And nobody needn't scold Dolly C. 'Cause she didn't knowabout the bridge over an' I did, and----"
"No, no! My fault, my very own!" interposed Dorothy hastily.
"Let nobody blame nobody! All's well that ends well! Alfaretta mustn'tregret her serviceable memory nor my drenching, for she's a wise littlemaid and I owe my 'coming to,' to her 'remembering.' As for you, Dollydarling, let me see another tear in your eye and I will 'scold' inearnest. Now, Martha, wife, I'll give it up. I'm rather shaky on my pinsyet and the chair it must be, if I'm to put myself in connection withthat lounge. I shan't need the towel after all. I've just let myself'dreen,' as my girl used to do with the dishes, sometimes!"
He talked so cheerily and so naturally that he almost deceived them intobelieving that he was not a whit the worse for his tumble, and as theyhelped him to be seated and began to push him up the slope toward thecottage, he whistled as merrily as he had used to do upon his postalroute.
"And you ain't goin' to the gold mine after all?" asked Alfy, muchdisappointed. It was a spot she had hitherto shunned on account of itsghostly reputation, but was eager to visit now in company with theseowners of it, who scoffed at the "haunt." She wanted to show them shewas right and see what they would say then.
"Gold mine? Trash! If there had been such a thing on this farm, a man asclever as my uncle Simon Waterman would have used some of the 'gold' tokeep things in better shape. I don't want to hear any more of thatnonsense, nor to have you, Dorothy, go searching for the place. Ourfirst trip to hunt for gold has been a lesson to us all," said motherMartha, with such sharpness that Alfaretta stared and the others, whoknew her better, realized that this was a time to keep silence.
More than once that day was the good housewife tempted to send the threevisiting Babcocks home, but was too courteous to do so. She longed tohave her daughter to herself, and to discuss with her not only thehappenings of the past but plans for the future. Besides this desire,she also saw, at last, how badly shaken by his fall her husband was andthat he needed perfect quiet--a thing impossible to procure withAlfaretta Babcock in the cottage.
However, the day wore away at length. The girl showed herself as usefulin the dinner-getting and clearing away as she had done at breakfasttime; also, she and her sisters brought to it as keen an appetite, sothat, after all, the clearing away was not so great a matter as mightbe.
Dorothy kept the smaller girls out of doors, helping them to make aplayhouse with bits of stones, to stock it with broken crockery andholly-hock dolls, and to entrance them with her store of fairy tales tosuch a degree that Baretta decided:
"I'm comin' again, Dorothy Chester. I'm comin' ever' single day theyis."
"Oh, no! You mustn't do that!" gasped the surprised young hostess. "Iwill have to work a great deal to help my mother and I shan't have timefor visiting."
"Me come, too, Do'thy Chetter," lisped Claretta. "Me like playhouthfuth-rate. Me come to-mowwow day, maybe."
Dorothy said no more, but found a way to end their plans by getting abook for herself, and becoming so absorbed in it that they ceased tofind her interesting and wandered off by themselves to rummage in theold barn; and, finally, to grow so tired of the whole place that theybegan to howl with homesickness.
Dorothy let them howl. She had recently been promoted to the reading ofDickens, and enthralled by the adventures of Barnaby Rudge she hadwandered far in spirit from that mountain farm and the disgruntledBabcocks. Curled up on the grass beneath a low-branched tree she forgoteverything, and for a long time knew nothing of what went on about her.
Meantime, to keep Alfaretta's tongue beyond reach of her husband's ears,Mrs. Chester had gone down into the cellar of the cottage which, hervisitor informed her, had once been the "dairy." Until now, since hercoming to Skyrie, the housemistress had occupied herself only in gettingthe upper rooms cleaned and furnished with such of her belongings as shehad brought with her, and in attendance upon father John. She had notattempted any real farm work, though she had listened to his plans withpatient unbelief in his power to accomplish any of them.
"If Dorothy should be found," had been his own conclusion of all hisschemes, during the time of their uncertainty concerning her; andafterward, when news of her safety and early coming had reached them, hemerely changed this form to: "Now that Dorothy is found."
Everything had its beginning and end in "Dorothy." For her the gardenwas to be made, especially the flower beds in it; the farm rescued fromits neglected condition and made a well-paying one, that Dorothy mightbe educated; and because of Dorothy's love of nature the whole propertymust be rendered delightfully picturesque.
Now Dorothy had really come; and, unfortunately, as Mrs. Chesterexpressed it:
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"I can see to the bottom of our pocket-book, John dear, and it's notvery deep down. Plans and talk are nice but it takes money to carry themout. As for your doing any real work yourself, you can't till you getwell. 'Twould only hinder your doing so if you tried. We'll have to hirea man to work the ground for us and clear it of weeds. If we can get himto do it 'on shares,' so much the better; if he won't do that--Oh! hum!To think of folks having more dollars than they can spend and we justenough to starve on!"
This talk had been on that very day before, while they sat impatientlyawaiting her arrival, and it had made John Chester wince. While his lifehad been in danger, even during all their time of doubt concerning theiradopted child, Martha had been gentleness and hopefulness indeed. Shehad seemed to assume his nature and he hers: but now that their moreserious fears were removed, each had returned to his own again; shebecome once more a fretter over trifles and he a jester at them.
"Don't say that, dear wife. I don't believe we will starve; or thatwe'll have to beg the superfluous dollars of other people," he hadanswered, hiding his regret for his own lost health and comfortablesalary.
But the much-tried lady was on the highroad toward trouble-borrowing andbound to reach her end.
"I might as well say it as think it, John. I never was one to keepthings to myself that concern us both, as you did all that time you knewyou was going lame and never told me. Besides the man, we must have ahorse, or two of them. Maybe mules would come cheaper, if they have 'emaround here. We'll have to get a cow, of course. Milk and butter save alot of butcher stuff. Then we must get a pig. The pig will eat up thesour milk left after the butter's made----"
"My dear, don't let him eat up the buttermilk, too! Save that forDorothy and me, please. Remember how the little darling used to coax fora nickel to run to the 'corner' and buy a quart of it, when we'd beendigging extra hard in our pretty yard. And don't forget, in yourfinancial reckonings, to leave us a few cents to buy roses with. I'vebeen thinking how well some climbing 'Clothilde Souperts' would look,trained against that barn wall, with, maybe, a row of crimson 'Jacks,'or 'Rohans' in front. Dorothy would like that, I guess. I must send fora new lot of florists' catalogues, since you didn't bring my old ones."
"I hadn't room; and I hope you won't. We've not one cent to waste onplants, let alone dollars. Besides, once you and Dorothy get your headstogether over one those books you want all that's in it, from cover tocover. There's things I want, too, but I put temptation behind me. Thewhole farm's run to weeds and posies, anyhow. No need to buy more."
Father John had thought it wise to change the subject. Martha was thebest of wives, but there were some things in which she failed tosympathize. He therefore remarked, what he honestly believed:
"I think it's wonderful, little woman, how you can remember so muchabout farming, when you haven't lived on one since you were a child."
"Children remember better than grown folks. I don't forget how I used tohave to churn in a dash-churn, till my arms ached fit to drop off. And Ilearned to milk till I could finish one cow in a few minutes; but itnearly broke my fingers in two, at first. I wonder if I can milk now!I'll have to try, anyway, soon as we get the cow. I guess you'd betterwrite an advertisement for the _Local News_, and I'll go to Mrs.Calvert's place and ask her coachman to post it when he goes down themountains to meet the folks. Just to think we shall have our blessedchild this very night before we sleep!" ended the housemistress, with areturn of her good spirits.
Father John laughed with almost boyish gayety. Dorothy was coming!Everything would be right. So he hobbled across to his own old deskwhich Martha had placed in the cheeriest corner of the room assigned tohim, looking back over his shoulder to inquire:
"Shall it be for a cow, a horse, or that milk-saving pig? Or all threeat one fell swoop? Must I say second-hand or first-class? I never livedon a farm, you know, and enjoyed your advantages of knowledge: and, bythe way, what will we do with the creatures when we get them? I haven'tbeen into that barn yet, but it looks shaky."
"John Chester! Folks don't keep pigs in their barns! They keep them inpens. Even an ex-postman ought to know enough for that. And make thething short. The printers charge so much a word, remember."
"All right. 'Brevity is the soul of wit.' I'll condense."
Whistling over his task, Mr. Chester soon evolved the following "WantAd.":
"Immediate. Pig. Cow. Horse. Skyrie."
This effusion, over which he chuckled considerably, he neatly folded andaddressed to the publisher of the local newspaper and left on his deskfor his wife to read, then hobbled back to his bed to sleep away thetime till Dorothy came, if he could thus calm his happy excitement. Butit never entered his mind that his careful wife would not read andreconstruct the advertisement before she dispatched it to itsdestination.
However, this she did not do. She simply sealed and delivered it to oldEphraim, just as he was on the point of starting for his mistress at theLanding: and the result of its prompt appearance in the weekly sheet,issued the next morning, was not just what either of the Chesters wouldhave desired.
After all, Alfaretta was good company down in that old cellar-dairy,poking into things, explaining the probable usage of much that Marthadid not understand. For instance:
"That there great big wooden thing in the corner's a dog-churn. Ma says'twas one more o' old Si Waterman's crazy kinks. He had the biggest kindof a dog an' used to make him do his churnin'. Used to try, anyhow. See?This great barrel-like thing is the churn. That's the treadmill'Hendrick Hudson'--that was the dog's name--had to walk on. Step, step,step! an' never get through! Ma says 'twas no wonder the creatur' 'drun away an' hide in the woods soon's churnin' days come round. He knewwhen Tuesday an' Friday was just as well as folks. Then old Si he'dspend the whole mornin' chasing 'Hudson'--he was named after the riveror something--from Pontius to Pilate; an' when he'd catch him, Si'd be agood deal more tuckered out an' if he'd done his churnin' himself."
Martha laughed, and rolling the big, barrel-churn upon its side was morethan delighted to see it fall apart, useless.
"How could he ever get cream enough to fill such a thing? Or enoughwater to keep it clean? And look, Alfy! what a perfect rat-hole of dirtand rubbish is under it. That old dog-churn must come down first thing.I've a notion to take that rusty ax yonder and knock it to piecesmyself," she remarked and turned her back for a moment, to examine theother portions of her future dairy.
Now good-natured Alfaretta was nothing if not helpful, and quite humanenough to enjoy smashing something. Before Mrs. Chester could turnaround, the girl had caught up the ax and with one vigorous blow fromher strong arm sent the dog-churn, already tumbling to pieces with age,with a deafening rattle down upon the stone floor.
The sound startled John Chester from his restful nap, silenced theoutcries of the little Babcocks, and sent Dorothy to her feet, infrightened bewilderment. For there before her, in the flesh, stood thehero of the very book she dropped as she sprang up--Barnaby Rudgehimself!