CHAPTER VII
AT THE OFFICE OF A JUSTICE
Fortunately the distance to the blacksmith's was not great, for Mr.Chester could not be dissuaded from accompanying his wife and daughterthither, in answer to that astounding "summons." That the document waslegal and not to be ignored, he knew well enough, though mother Marthaprotested vigorously against paying any attention to it.
"It's some absurd mistake, John. How in the world could our Dolly be awitness in any such affair? No, indeed. Not a step will any of us taketoward that shop-office! A pretty justice of the peace a blacksmith mustbe, anyway! I never was so insulted in my life. Instead of going there,I'm going down cellar to clean it up and made ready for ourbutter-making."
"First--catch your cow, wife dear! A better one than that old Brindlewho has deserted us already. And as for your going, why, of course,_you_ needn't. Dorothy C. is the important person in this case, and I'mas much her guardian as you."
"John, you mustn't! You couldn't walk so far on your crutches----"
"Oh! I must learn to walk long distances, and 'up-mounting' must becomparatively near. I remember that Alfaretta said it was 'next door toCat Hollow,' and Cat Hollow's just beyond Skyrie. Dorothy'd better runover to Mrs. Smith's, where you get your milk, and ask directions. Nouse to waste any strength hobbling over the wrong route----"
"Maybe the grocer's wagon will be up before ten o'clock and he mightcarry you," suggested Mrs. Chester.
"He ought not to go out of his way, that clerk; besides, it would be asdifficult for me to climb into his high cart as to trot along on my ownwooden feet. Shall Dolly inquire?"
So Dorothy was dispatched upon the errand, duly warned not to inform theSmith household of its cause, though there was small danger of that.The girl had never been so angry in her life. "Arrested," was the wayshe put the matter to herself, yet why--why! She had never done anythingwicked in her life! and this man, "Archibald Montaigne," what did sheknow about such a person or any dogs which might have run into him? Norwas she prepared for the evident curiosity with which Mrs. Smithregarded her; a curiosity greater than that her kidnapping adventureshad provoked, and which angered her still more.
"The way to Seth's shop? Sure. I know it well's I know the road to myown barnyard. You go out your gate and turn toward the river and walktill you come to the corner of two roads. Take the upper road, rightinto the woods, and there you'll be. Don't you be afraid, Sis. Nobodycan do anything to just a witness, so. The boy'll be the one'll catchit, and heavy. That Mr. Montaigne looks like a regular pepper-pod, andis, too. Why, he sent his man down here, t'other day, to warn me to keepmy hens shut up and off his property. _My hens!_ That was never shut upin their lives, nor found fault with before. But----"
"Good-morning. Thank you," interrupted Dorothy, rather rudely, but tooimpatient to be back at home to think about that. Arrived there shefound that, like a good many other people, once given her own way motherMartha did not care to take it. Instead of ignoring the summons tocourt, she arrayed herself in her best street costume and duly appearedat Seth Winters's home with her crippled husband and indignant child.
There is no need to describe the "trial" which followed. It was almostfarcical in its needlessness, and poor Dorothy's part in it of theslightest import. She had to tell that she did know the dogs, Peter andPonce, and that once she had been run against and knocked down by one ofthem. Also, that on the morning of the "assault" these dogs had calledat Skyrie and that she had lost hold of one of them, and that they hadrun away with one James Barlow in pursuit. Then she was dismissed; butat a nod from Mrs. Calvert, crossed the room to where that lady sat andnestled down beside her, surprised to find her in such a place and,apparently, so much amused by the scene.
The outcome of the affair was simple. Mr. Montaigne's anger had had timeto cool and he was a snob. It was one thing to prosecute a helpless ladbut quite another to find that the "ferocious" dogs belonged to hisaristocratic neighbor, whose acquaintance he had not heretofore beenpermitted to make, although he had endeavored so to do. Mrs. Cecil was,practically, the very center and queen of that exclusive circle whichhad "discovered" the "Heights" and was the most bitterly opposed to"outsiders" possessing property thereon.
"This man Montaigne, Cousin Seth, may have much more money than brains,but we don't want him up here on our hill," she had once said to her oldfriend, and giving him that title of "Cousin" from real affection ratherthan because he had any right to it.
He had laughed at her in his genial, hearty way, which could give nooffence, and had returned:
"My good Betty, you need humanizing. We can't all be old MarylandCalverts, and I like new people. Don't fancy that a man who has mademillions--_made it_, understand--is brainless, and not well worthknowing. You know I can _spend_ money----"
"None better, man!"
"But the gift of _making_ it was denied me. I intend that you and Ishall know this Mr. Montaigne and--like him. I shall make it my businessto accomplish that fact even though, at present, he thinks a countryblacksmith beneath his notice. That time will come. I have infinitepatience, I can wait, but I shall hugely enjoy the event when itarrives."
This conversation had taken place the summer before, when the newcomerhad begun the building of his really palatial residence, and SethWinters had waited a whole year, little dreaming that the acquaintancehe had determined upon should begin in his own office, with him asarbiter in a case between a rich man and a penniless boy.
"The complaint is withdrawn," declared the complainant, as soon as hehad discovered the real state of affairs, and that now was his chance tobecome acquainted with Mrs. Cecil. "I--I was offended at the time,but--it's too trivial to notice. I beg to apologize, Madam Calvert, forthe annoyance I've given you. Of course, the lad----"
"Don't mention it; an amusement rather than an annoyance," replied thelady, graciously. "So little of moment happens up here on our mountainthat an episode of this kind is quite--quite refreshing. My Great Daneswill not trouble you again. My 'Cousin' Winters, here--allow me to makeyou acquainted in a social as well as business way--my 'Cousin' Wintersis almost as much attached to the beautiful animals as I am, and he hasthis very morning presented me with a pair of wonderful chains,warranted not to break. Fortunately, he had them already waiting myarrival, as a gift, and never gift more opportune."
"My 'Cousin' Winters!"
Archibald Montaigne felt as if the boards beneath his feet were givingway. That this old gentlewoman whose blood was of the bluest--and headored "blue blood"--should claim relationship with an obscure farrierwas a most amazing thing. Well, then, the next best step for himself totake in this affair was to foster the acquaintance with the smith; andthereby, it might be, gain entrance for his family and himself into"Society."
For his family first. That credit was due him. Personally, he lovedbetter a quiet corner in his own great mansion, where he might study thefluctuations of the "market" and scheme to increase the wealth he hadalready compassed. And with the shrewdness which had enabled him to takeadvantage of mere money-making "chances," he now seized upon the socialone presented.
"My dear Madam Calvert, my wife and daughter are without in my carriage.They have been a little--little lonely up here, for it's quiet, as yousay. Do allow me to present them, call them in, or--if you will be sokind, so very kind, our precious Helena is an invalid, you know, youmight step out to them with me. If I might appeal to your kindness formy daughter, who's heard so much about you and will be so delighted."
What could Mrs. Cecil do? Nobody had ever appealed to her "kindness"without receiving it, and though she positively hated to know these"new, upstart people," she was too well bred to show it. But as Mr.Montaigne bowed the way outward she flashed a look toward the smilingsmith, which said as plainly as words:
"You've caught me in this trap! The consequences are yours!"
The glance he telegraphed back meant, as well:
"Good enough! I'm always glad to see a prejudice get its downfall. Thetime I
waited for came, you see."
Almost unconsciously, Mrs. Cecil still retained in her own soft hand theclinging one of Dorothy C., which she had taken when she called the girlto her side; so that she now led her out of the office to the carriagebefore its door and to what Dorothy thought was the loveliest person shehad ever seen.
This was Helena Montaigne, a blonde of the purest type, whose great blueeyes were full of a fine intelligence, but whose perfect features weremarred by an expression of habitual discontent. This little lady madeDorothy think of the heads of angels painted upon Christmas cards and,also, for an instant made her stare rather rudely. The next she hadrecovered herself and acknowledged Mr. Montaigne's introduction with anatural grace and ease which delighted Mrs. Cecil beyond words. She wasalways gratified when "Johnnie's" adopted daughter proved herself worthyof the interest she had taken in her; and she now mentally compared thebeauty of the two girls, with no disparagement to Dorothy C.
Indeed, the dark eyes, the tumbled curly head,--where the brown hair wasjust recovering from the rough shearing Miranda Stott had given it,while her young prisoner was ill with the measles,--and the trim, erectlittle figure, had already become in the eyes of this childless old ladya very dear and charming picture.
Helena's manner was that of a grown young lady, which, indeed, she quitefancied herself to be. Was she not fourteen and, on state occasions,promoted to the dignity of having her abundant hair "done up" by hermother's own hairdresser? And as for skirts, they had been lengthened tothe tops of her boots: and by another year she would have her dinnerfrocks made _en train_. Her own manner was rather disdainful, as if thepeople she met were not her equals; yet this contempt was for their"general stupidity." She had not her father's love of money nor hermother's timidity concerning her own behavior; for the fear that sheshould not conduct herself according to the "best usages of politesociety" was the bane of gentle Mrs. Montaigne's existence. By natureextremely simple and sweet, she tormented herself by her efforts to behaughty and "aristocratic"--not quite understanding the true meaning ofthe latter term.
Money had come to her too late in life for her to become accustomed tothe use of, and indifferent to, it; and, though she revered her husbandon account of his ability to make it, their wealth was a burden for her,at times almost too heavy to bear.
On the other hand, Helena and Herbert, her brother, two years older,could not remember when they had not more money at their command thanthey knew how to use. The boy was not as clever as his sister, but hewas more generally liked, though his insolence, sometimes, was mostoffensive. He rode up, at this moment, upon a spirited black horse, andcalled out, noisily:
"Well, dad! How'd the trial go? Hope you walloped that lumpkin good;and the old woman owns the dogs----"
"Herbert! _Herbert!_" warned Mr. Montaigne, in distress. Whereupon hisson came round from the corner of the shop, which had hidden him fromsight of all the party save his father, and found himself in thepresence of the very "old woman" herself. He had none of his parents'ambition to know her or any other of the "exclusives" of the Heights,being quite sufficient unto himself; but he had been trained in the bestschools and knew how to conduct himself properly. Besides, he was morefrank by nature than the others of his family and, having found himself"in a box," escaped from it by the shortest way possible.
"Hello! I've done it now, haven't I? I beg your pardon, Mrs. Calvert,and dad's and everybody's;" saying which, the lad pulled his hat fromhis head, and checked his horse to a standstill beside the carriagewhere his mother and sister sat.
He was a handsome boy, of the same fair type as Helena, but much morerugged in strength; and his blue eyes danced with merriment instead offrowning with the disdain of hers. He adored her yet quarreled with hercontinually, because she had so little interest in "sensible, outdoorthings"; and his gaze now turned upon Dorothy with instant perceptionthat here was a girl worth knowing and no nonsense about her.
His gay debonair manner and his ready apology for his own blunderpleased Mrs. Calvert. She liked honesty and did not mind, in the least,having been termed an "old woman." This boy was worth all the rest ofthe Montaignes put together, she decided, and thereupon showed her goodwill by admiring his thoroughbred mount.
"That's a fine beast you have there, lad. Needs a little exercise to gethim into shape, but I reckon a few trips up and down this mountain willfetch him right."
She had herself walked to her old friend's shop and now stepped forwardto examine at closer range the good points of the horse, stroking hisvelvet nostrils with an affectionate touch, and patting his shoulderapprovingly.
Herbert stared and exclaimed:
"Why, that's strange! Cephy hates women. Won't let mother nor sistercome near him, or wouldn't if they tried--which only Helena hasdone--once! You must like horses, ma'am, and understand 'em a lot."
"I ought to. I was brought up with them. They've been my best companymany and many a time. I was put into a saddle when I was but a year anda half old. Held there, of course; but took to the business so well thatby the time I was five I could take a fence with my father, any time hewanted to ride over the plantation. I'm glad to see you like them, too.But I must be going. I'm sorry, Mr. Chester, that I didn't drive over;then I could have taken you home, but. I didn't expect to have thepleasure of meeting you here. I----"
As she paused this straightforward old lady looked at Mrs. Montaignewith a questioning glance; but receiving no comprehending glance inreturn addressed herself to her late opponent in law.
"Won't you let Mr. Chester take your place in your carriage, Mr.Montaigne, and you walk alongside me? It's such a low, easy vehicle andit's a good bit of a way back to Skyrie. I'm going there myself, andthere couldn't be a better time than this for all of us to call upon ournew neighbors. I'm sure we're all delighted to have them among us."
There was nothing for it but compliance. Though his face reddened and hewould far rather have walked, or hobbled, twice the distance than becomean enforced recipient of the Montaigne courtesy, John Chester felt thatthis old gentlewoman had been and was too true a friend for him tooffend by not falling in with her proposal.
On his own part, Archibald Montaigne winced at the picture of thiscrippled ex-postman riding in state beside his wife and daughter, yetdared not refuse, lest by so doing he would close the door to thatfuture intimacy which he coveted. He felt that this intimacy with Mrs.Cecil, personally, might be anything but agreeable; yet in her old whitehands lay the key to the social situation which was his latest ambition.
There ensued but the briefest hesitation, during which there issued fromSeth Winters's lips an amused, reproachful exclamation:
"O Betty, Betty! Never too old for mischief!"
But none heard the words save "Betty," who smiled as she did so. Theothers were helping Mr. Chester into the carriage and settling himcomfortably there, with an ostentatious kindness on the part of Mr.Montaigne which the ex-postman inwardly resented. Then the coachmanstarted his team forward, and the justice returned to his smithy,cheerily calling out:
"Well, lad, we've come out of that business with flying colors! It wasthe presence of Mrs. Calvert which did the most for us, though the manhas more sense than appeared, yesterday, else he wouldn't--Why, Jim?James? Jimmy?"
There was no response. None but the office cat answered this summons.The defendant in this remarkable suit had vanished.