Chapter XXII. ON THE ISLAND
In the winter it was probably dreary enough; but now the beauty of theswelling knoll where the little whitewashed house stood, with the tinyfields that surrounded it, actually made Nan's heart swell and the tearscome into her eyes.
It seemed to her as though she had never seen the grass so green ashere, and the thick wood that encircled the little farm was just a hedgeof blossoming shrubs with the tall trees shooting skyward in unbrokenranks. A silver spring broke ground at the corner of the paddock fence.A pool had been scooped out for the cattle to drink at; but it was notmuddied, and the stream tinkled down over the polished pebbles to thewider, more sluggish stream that meandered away from the farm into thedepths of the swamp.
Toby told her, before they reached the hummock, that this stream rose inthe winter and flooded all about the farm, so that the latter really wasan island. Unless the ice remained firm they sometimes could not driveout with either wagon or sled for days at a time.
"Then you live on an island," cried Nan.
"Huh! Ye might say so," complained Toby. "And sometimes we feel like asthough we was cast away on one, too."
But the girl thought it must really be great fun to live on an island.
They went up to the house along the bank of the clear stream. On theside porch, vine-covered to the eaves, sat an old woman rocking in a lowchair and another figure in what seemed at a distance, to be a child'swagon of wickerwork, but with no tongue and a high back to it.
"Here's Gran'pop!" cried a shrill voice and the little wagon movedswiftly to the edge of the steps. Nan almost screamed in fear as itpitched downward. But the wheels did not bump over the four stepsleading to the ground, for a wide plank had been laid slantingly at thatside, and over this the wheels ran smoothly, if rapidly.
"You have a care there, Corson!" shrilled the old lady after thecripple. "Some day you'll break your blessed neck."
Nan thought he was a little boy, until they met. Then she was surprisedto see a young man's head set upon a shriveled child's body! CorsonVanderwiller had a broad brow, a head of beautiful, brown, wavy hair,and a fine mustache. He was probably all of twenty-five years old.
But Nan soon learned that the poor cripple was not grown in mind, morethan in body, to that age. His voice was childish, and his speech andmanner, too. He was bashful with Nan at first; then chattered like asix-year-old child to her when she had once gained his confidence.
He wheeled himself about in the little express wagon very well indeed,old Toby having rigged brakes with which he moved the wagon and steeredit. His arms and hands were quite strong, and when he wished to get backon to the piazza, he seized a rope his grandfather had hung there, anddragged himself, wagon and all, up the inclined plane, or gangplank, asit might be called.
He showed Nan all his treasures, and they included some very childishtoys, a number of them showing the mechanical skill of his grandfather'sblunt fingers. But among them, too, were treasures from the swamp andwoods that were both very wonderful and very beautiful.
Old Toby had made Corson a neatly fitted cabinet in which were specimensof preserved butterflies and moths, most of them of the gay and commonvarieties; but some, Nan was almost sure, were rare and valuable. Therewas one moth in particular, with spread wings, on the upper side of thethorax of which was traced in white the semblance of a human skull. Nanwas almost sure that this must be the famous death's-head moth she hadread about in school; but she was not confident enough to say anythingto old Toby Vanderwiller. A few specimens of this rare insect have beenfound in the swamps of America, although it was originally supposed tobe an Old World moth.
Nan did say, however, to Toby that perhaps some of these specimensmight be bought by collectors. The pressed flowers were pretty but notparticularly valuable. In the museum at the Tillbury High School therewas a much finer collection from the Indiana swamps.
"Sho!" said Toby, slowly; "I wouldn't wanter sell the boy's pretties. Ibrung most on 'em home to him; but he mounted 'em himself."
Nan suspected that old Mrs. Vanderwiller had much to do with the neatappearance of the cabinet. She was a quiet, almost a speechless, oldlady. But she was very kind and she set out her best for Nan's luncheonbefore the girl from Tillbury returned home.
"We ain't got much here on the island," the old lady said; "but we dolove to have visitors. Don't we, Corson?"
"Nice ones," admitted the cripple, munching cake.
He had heard something of what Nan suggested to Toby about the mothsand other specimens. So when the old lady was absent from the porch hewhispered:
"Say, girl!"
"Well?" she asked, smiling at him.
"Is what's in that cabinet wuth as much as a dollar?"
"Oh! I expect so," said Nan. "More."
"Will you give me a dollar for 'em?" he asked, eagerly.
"Oh, I couldn't! But perhaps I can write to somebody who would beinterested in buying some of your things, and for much more than adollar."
Corson looked disappointed. Nan asked, curiously: "Why do you want thedollar?"
"To git Gran'mom a silk dress," he said promptly. "She's admired to haveone all her life, and ain't never got to git it yet."
"I'm sure that's nice of you," declared Nan, warmly. "I'll try to sellsome of your collection."
"Well!" he jerked out. "It's got to be pretty soon, or she won't git towear it much. I heard her tell Gran'pop so."
This impressed Nan Sherwood as being very pitiful, for she was of asympathetic nature. And it showed that Corson Vanderwiller, even if hewas simple-minded, possessed one of the great human virtues, gratitude.