The Opened Shutters: A Novel

  CHAPTER XXIII

  A PHILTRE

  By the time the party returned that evening Benny was still sittingbeside Dunham, but the boy was doing all the talking, while John wassailing. Not even when they reached the ledges did Benny remember hisproud privilege as pilot, but allowed his companion to conduct theboat's devious course while he expatiated on some races that had takenplace earlier in the season. Had they not gone swimming together beforeluncheon, and had not Dunham's athletic feats and man-to-man treatmentof the island boy completely subjugated him?

  The tin pails they had carried were now in the locker, brimming withberries. The breeze that cooled the party all the way diminishedgradually as the sun lowered, and at last the boat crept on slow wingsto its mooring like a weary bird to its nest.

  "And very lucky we were to get here instead of having to walk thelength of the island," said Edna, as she jumped out on the dock. "John,how should you have liked to walk two miles carrying all the berries?"

  Dunham shook his head as he bundled their paraphernalia out of theboat. "I should have insisted on sitting down to supper at once. Itwould have been a case like that of the 'Niger tiger:'--

  'They returned from the ride With the berries inside.'"

  Edna laughed and added, "'And the smile on the face of'--who? Not oneof us would have dared to smile. Even now Sylvia is the onlypresentable member of the party."

  John looked at the younger girl curiously.

  "It's a fact, Miss Sylvia, your self-control to-day has been somethinguncanny. Don't you like blueberries?"

  "More than that," returned the girl significantly. "I love them."

  "But not to eat," remarked Edna. "Of course Sylvia is too well-bred tolove anything to eat. I don't know the fate she designs for thosetreasures of hers, but I suspect she intends to have them set in anecklace with elaborate pendants."

  Sylvia colored, her eyes shining as she hugged a full pail away fromthe curious, laughing gaze of her companions. Every berry in it hadbeen selected for its size and darkness; and when the others had beggedfor one plum from her appetizing collection she had guarded themjealously, and, refusing to allow her pail to be placed with the otherson the return trip, had held it in her lap, superior to all jeers andthe alarming threats of her ravenous companions.

  Leaving the boat the trio bade Benny good-night and started up thehill.

  "Now then, John, say good-by to your hotel," said Edna.

  "Going to take me home to supper? Good work," he returned.

  "Yes, and we shan't let you go back to that room full of sunrise,either."

  "That sounds great"--began Dunham eagerly. "But I can't trouble you,"he added. "Miss Sylvia has told me how to banish the light. What do yousuppose Miss Martha would say if I asked her to lend me a blackstocking?"

  "Better not risk it," returned Edna, smiling. "Sylvia is going to staywith me a week. With the addition of yourself we shall compose a veryselect house party."

  "I came over here to stay an hour," said Sylvia.

  "So did I," added Dunham.

  "Well," replied Edna, "we'll sail to the Tide Mill to-morrow and getyou a few belongings."

  "I trust you haven't had a moment's hope that I'd refuse," said John.

  "It's too lovely for anything!" exclaimed Sylvia, taking one hand fromher precious pail to squeeze her friend's arm.

  She had been longing for a few days here to make her experiment. Therewas a promontory visible from the Fir Ledges--

  They neared the cottage. "Now listen," said Edna merrily; "Miss Laceyhas probably seen us. In a minute she'll come out on the piazza, andsay, 'The supper isn't fit to be eaten. I should think, Edna,' and soforth, and so forth."

  The words had scarcely left the girl's lips when Miss Martha bustledinto view. "Here you are at last, you children," she said. "The supperisn't fit to be eaten. I _should_ think, Edna, with your experience inthe length of time it always takes to get home"--

  The wind-blown, disheveled trio began to laugh. "Look at this peaceoffering, Miss Martha," said John, holding up the pails. "Have you theheart to do anything but fall on our necks? If you had seen the dropson my brow as I stooped over those miserable little bushes."

  "Yes, if anybody had seen them!" exclaimed Edna scornfully. "Go rightup to the same room you had last night, John, and bathe that brow, andbe down here in five minutes, if you want Miss Lacey ever to smile onyou again."

  Miss Martha was very proud of her dining-room at Anemone Cottage. Shewas wont to say at home that one of the best features of her vacationwas not having to consider the cost of providing for the littlehousehold; and to-night the immaculate table, with its ferns and wildroses in the centre, was laden with good things for the wanderers whogathered about it hungrily.

  "When I think how I labored to procure those berries," repeated Dunham,looking pensively at the heaped-up dish on Miss Martha's right, "itseems almost a sacrilege to eat them."

  "Aunt Martha, he didn't pick a pint!" protested Sylvia. "He ought notto have one."

  "Ask her what she did," returned John. "She has a sylph-like, aestheticappearance, but I give you my word she has the most epicurean eye. Shehasn't left a prize berry in those fields. Have you seen her booty?"

  "No. What does he mean, Sylvia?"

  "He means to distract attention from his own laziness, that's all."

  "No, I don't. I mean to have some of those rotund berries of yours.Don't you, Edna? I'll wager she hasn't thrown them in with this commonlot. Have you, now?"

  Sylvia laughed and colored. "No," she answered.

  "Then get them," said John. "They'll be good for nothing cold. Besides,I want Miss Lacey to see them. Where are they?"

  Sylvia continued to smile and keep her eyes downcast, just glancing uptoward Edna, who answered for her.

  "Under a glass case up in her room, probably. I told you she was goingto make a necklace of them. Anyway, _you_ certainly don't deserve one.It is just as Sylvia said, Miss Martha, he shirked in that field in amanner that was painful to witness."

  "Well, he has so far to stoop," returned Miss Martha, looking at Dunhamapprovingly. "It must be hard for him."

  "Oh, you don't know him," retorted Edna. "There's nothing he won'tstoop to. He came with us and picked about ten berries, and then"--

  "Miss Lacey," interrupted John, "you are so right-minded it will be apleasure to tell you what happened. Before luncheon I went swimmingwith our guide, philosopher, and friend. Then such was the evilsuspicion of these girls that they wouldn't take me to get berriesuntil we had eaten luncheon. We then proceeded to demolish everythingin sight except the boxes. I think Benny ate those. After that I feltas though I could snatch a few winks, but as no one of the party waswearing black stockings except the guide, philosopher, and friend, Irelinquished that idea."

  Miss Lacey looked up questioningly, blinking through her glasses, butthe speaker proceeded:--

  "Moreover, the girls wouldn't give me time to try. They dragged me outinto the field and made me carry all the pails. They were willingenough while the things were empty! Well, I'd been patiently laboringabout ten minutes when I began to realize how unreasonable it was forme to be taking a Turkish bath after the glorious cold plunge I'd beenhaving; then the look that the guide, philosopher, and friend had wornas we left him returned to me with an appeal. Of course you know thataffairs are very serious between him and Edna, and I felt myself in adelicate position. The thought came to me: 'Why not be magnanimous? Whynot cut ice with Benny which would cool myself? I'll go back to theboat and let him take my place.' I did it. Ask him what _he_ thinks ofmy action."

  "Well, if you've had a good time that's all that's necessary," remarkedMiss Lacey placidly, amid the jeers that followed Dunham's explanation."That's what vacations are for."

  Supper over, the party went out to the piazza, and Sylvia had no soonerseen Edna in one of the hammocks and John seated near on the boulderrailing than she slipped back into the house, and to her aunt.

  "Would it b
other Jenny if I fussed around the stove a little, whileshe's doing the dishes?" she asked eagerly.

  "Why, no," hesitated Miss Martha in surprise. "What do you want to do?"

  "I want to make something with my berries."

  "Why, child. Wait till to-morrow. Jenny will make anything you want herto."

  "No, Aunt Martha." Sylvia had the unconscious air of an eager, pleadingchild. "It's an experiment I want to try. Please let me. I'll tell youabout it afterward."

  "Well, of course if you'd rather go into that hot kitchen than stay onthe piazza with the others; but what in the world"--

  "Oh, don't ask me, and don't tell them. They're talking about music,and they won't miss me for a little while."

  Sylvia fled upstairs for her treasured pail, and down again, smilingand sparkling, into Jenny's domain. The good-natured girl made herwelcome, and although Miss Lacey wished to come too, and see what herniece would be at, Sylvia laughingly closed the door upon her.

  "I was never more astonished," soliloquized Miss Martha, amused andrather pleased.

  She moved outdoors, and took a rocking-chair at the opposite end of thepiazza from John and Edna. The latter finally interrupted her ownremarks to glance at the figure sitting in the dusk. "Come over here,Sylvia. What makes you so exclusive?"

  "It isn't Sylvia," replied Miss Martha's voice.

  "Where is she, then?" Edna started to leave the hammock.

  "Don't disturb yourself. She's happy."

  "Examining her berries probably," remarked John.

  "That's just what she's doing," returned Miss Lacey, laughing.

  "What do you mean?" cried Edna. "Has that girl gone daffy?"

  "Now don't get up, Edna," commanded Miss Martha. "Sylvia is cooking."

  "Cooking!" Edna rose from the hammock. "At this time of night? Whydidn't you ask Jenny"--

  "She wouldn't let me. I don't know what it is, any more than you do;but it was something she was bound to do herself, and I had to let her.What takes me is the injustice I've done that child. I never dreamedshe had such domestic tendencies. I supposed she was all unpracticaland artistic like her poor father, and to think here she has somerecipe she's so crazy about she can't wait till morning." Miss Lacey'svoice trailed away in a gratified laugh. "Perhaps it's something Mrs.Lem has taught her."

  "Let's go and spy upon her," suggested John.

  The two stole softly around the house on the grass to the open kitchenwindow, where they shamelessly remained to gaze and listen. They sawSylvia leaning over the stove, carefully stirring something with alarge spoon. Jenny turned from the sink.

  "Will ye be havin' another stick, Miss Sylvia?"

  "There's going to be a stick in it. Whoop!" whispered John.

  "Only in the stove," replied Edna, as the fuel was added. "Cheer up,it's something good, anyway."

  "What are ye after makin', Miss Sylvia?" asked the cook.

  The girl pursed her smiling lips: "A philtre, Jenny. Did you ever hearof one?"

  "Sure I have. We use them all the time in Boston. Mr. Derwent won'tlave me even cook with water that ain't filtered. Sure, we don't needone here, and annyway, how could ye make one from berries?"

  "This is a different kind of philtre. I'm brewing something that I hopewill make somebody happy. A girl, Jenny. Me. This is to make me happy.That is, if it works like a charm,--and I think it will. I think itwill." Sylvia repeated the words joyously as she watched and stirred.

  "A love charm, is it!" ejaculated Jenny. Her mouth fell open, and shepaused, staring, dish-towel in hand.

  Sylvia laughed quietly. Her pretty, excited face, red from the sun andwind and with added color from the hot stove, nodded in the earnestnessof her reply.

  "Yes,--that's just what it is," she answered.

  "You're in love, then, Miss Sylvia?"

  Sylvia nodded again.

  "Yes,--I am. It wasn't at first sight either, Jenny. I don't know why Iwas so dull,--but it's apt to last the longer. Don't you think so?"

  "I do that, Miss Sylvia," returned the girl emphatically; "and sure abeauty like yerself should get whatever ye want without more charmsthan yer own bright eyes."

  Sylvia laughed and dropped a little curtsy toward the kind Irish face.

  "No,--no, it will take this," she sighed; "but with this, how I shalltry, how I shall try!" The fervent tone suddenly became prosaic. "Haveyou any clean empty bottles, Jenny?"

  The listeners at the window were dumb. Edna's expression had changedfrom glee to bewilderment. John took her arm and drew her away quietly.Together they moved noiselessly across the grass, but by tacitagreement not back to the piazza. For a minute of silence they strayeddown the wood road, beneath the moon.

  Dunham was first to break the embarrassed silence. "By Jove, for aminute there I felt _de trop_. The fair Sylvia was having fun with thecook, wasn't she? I wonder what she's really up to?"

  "We say all sorts of things to Jenny, you know," returned Edna. "She'sthe best soul that ever lived."

  At the same time both speakers knew that what they had seen in Sylvia'sface and heard in her voice exceeded pleasantry.

  An idea overwhelmed Edna. An idea which so fitted into thecircumstances that betwixt its appeal and the incredibility of Sylvia'swords being serious, she felt like flying from John and being alone tothink over the recent scene. If only Dunham were not penetrated by thesame thought that had come to her! For another minute neither spoke,and then it was John who again broke the silence.

  "Say, Edna," he suddenly ejaculated, "what's the use? That girl was inearnest."

  "Nonsense. She isn't a pagan," flashed the other.

  "Well, I don't know. She had a father who was one. According to JudgeTrent he was all for that sort of thing, and pinned his faith toeverything supernatural, from a rabbit's foot to a clairvoyant."

  Edna's face clouded with fastidious distaste even while she breathed ashade more freely. Evidently from John's tone her own diagnosis had notoccurred to the hero of it. "She had a matrimonial scheme on foot whenI first met her," he went on. "She was considering some actor becauseshe wished to go on the stage."

  "Rather strange that such a fact should have transpired in a firstinterview," remarked Edna dryly.

  "No, because that was a session devoted merely to ways and means. Butshe's not saying hocus-pocus and stirring caldrons on _his_ account,you may be certain. She admitted that he was an old image."

  "It's too absurd for us to discuss it," returned the girl impatiently."Fancy a ward of Thinkright's, under his influence for weeks, havingany superstition; to say nothing of the crudest and silliest one ofthem all."

  "And who could she have up her sleeve, anyway?" asked Dunhammeditatively. "Is there some swain over at the Mill Farm?"

  "Of course not," returned Edna irritably. "For pity's sake stop talkingas if you didn't think it was a joke."

  "She wasn't joking," replied John mildly, but with a conviction thatsmote his companion. "She was going to bottle the stuff, too."

  "Of course. It is probably some sort of berry wine that she has heardof, and she wants to surprise us. It was unkind of us to watch her.Never let her know it, will you, John?"

  "No; and if she gives me a drink in a few days all shall be forgiven."

  Edna took a deep breath, feeling that a foolish fancied burden, such asone bears in dreams, had been lifted from her.

  At the same time Sylvia's face, bending above the brew, haunted her,and the excited girlish voice echoed in her ears, bringing back herunwelcome doubts. Was it not precisely John who was destined to drinkthat precious wine?