*CHAPTER XV*
*KIT PULLS ANCHOR*
The following Saturday had been set as the first day for the girls tomeet at Greenacres. Sally was the first to arrive, as she lived nearest,and she brought with her Anne and Charlotte, who, in a process known inlarge families, had become Nan and Carlie.
Hedda and the two girls from the old Ames place, Ingeborg and Astrid,arrived together and helped Kit and Helen plan the tennis court. Belowthe terraces the lawn lay smooth and even out to the south wall, but ithad been decided to sacrifice a slice of the hay field across the roadrather than the garden, and Hiram had ploughed up a good sized oblong ofland for them, harrowed it smooth, and then the girls had pondered overthe problem of rolling it. It must be rolled flat, wet down, and rolledagain until it was fit to use.
"We could fill a barrel with sand, and roll that," Doris suggested,thoughtfully.
"Got something better than that," Honey said. "Over at Mr. Peckham'sthey've got a road roller. Mr. Peckham's the road committee in Gileadtownship--"
Kit caught him up,
"The whole committee, Honey?"
"Ain't he enough? Ought to see him get out and clean up with those boysof his. He'll let us take it, I'm sure, and it will roll that courtdown as smooth as can be. I'll go after it this afternoon when I finishwith the potato patch."
"Don't I wish we had the old garden hose," Helen said, after they hadcarried buckets of water from the well unremittingly for nearly an hour,and emptied them on the harrowed patch. "I'm half dead."
"Cheer up, sister mine," Kit told her briskly. "Think of the result.'Finis coronat opus!' From dawn till dewy eve we will play out here."
"We've got a croquet set down at the house, but the boys are alwaysusing the mallets to pound something over at the mill, and the balls getlost. I like this best." Sally stood with arms on her hips, smilinghappily. "What else are you going to do up here?"
"Next we're going to start weekly hikes," Kit told her. "You girls havelived here for years, haven't you--"
"We just came up a while ago," Ingeborg corrected.
"I know, and so did Hedda, but Etoile and Tony and Sally and the rest ofyou all grew right here, didn't you? Well, then. What do you knowabout the country for ten miles around?" Kit paused dramatically. "Doyou know every wood road and cow path through the woods? Do ye ken eachmountain peak and distant vale? Where does Little River rise? Have anyof you followed the rock ledge up into the hills?"
"Nobody but the hunters go there, and they don't come till fall," saidHedda gravely. She hardly ever smiled, this transplanted littledaughter of far-off Iceland. Her manner and expression always seemed tothe girls to hold a certain aloofness. Up at her home, later on, theysaw a finely carved model of a viking ship which her father had madeback in the home island, and Jean declared after that she alwayspictured Hedda standing at its high prow, facing the gale of thenorthern seas, her fair hair blowing behind her like a golden pennant,her blue eyes fearless and eager.
"But we'll go. With something to eat and trusty staves. That makes methink, girls, we haven't seen many snakes. Aren't there any up here,Sally?"
"Lots. But mostly black snakes. They're ugly to look at, but theydon't hurt you. And little garter snakes, and green grass snakes. Inever think about them."
"Are you afraid of anything out here, Sally?" Doris asked, interestedly.She had eyed Sally admiringly from the first moment of theiracquaintance, and privately Dorrie held many fears. It was all very wellto say there wasn't anything to worry over, as Kit did; but one may stepon toads in the dark, or hear noises in the garret that make one shivereven if they do turn out to be just chipmunks after corn and huts.
"Nothing that I know of," Sally replied serenely. "I never felt afraidin the dark. Just as soon go all over the house, up stairs and down,and into the cellar, as not. And I go all over the barn and garden atnight. Guess the only thing I'm really afraid of is a bat."
"Everybody's afraid of something," Etoile said, her eyes wide withmystery. "I have the fear too, oh, but often. I am most afraid ofthose little mulberry worms, you know them? They come right down at youon little ropes they make all by themselves, and they curl up in the airand then they drop on you. Ugh!"
Kit fairly rolled with delight at this, over on the grass.
"How perfectly lovely," she laughed. "Tell some more, Etoile."
"We've got a haunted house on our road," Astrid said in a lowered voice."The little spring house between the old mill and our place. It's beenthere years and years, my father says. He knows the old man at the mill,and he told him. As far back as they can remember it has always beenhaunted. First there lived an old watchmaker there. He had clocks andwatches all over the house, and they ticked all the time."
"Maybe they kept him from being lonely," Helen suggested.
"He was very strange, and when he died, then two old Indian women cameto live there. And there was a peddler used to go through and put upover night there, and he never was seen any more."
"You can see the grave in the cellar where they buried him," Ingeborgwhispered. "Right down at the foot of the stairs. And at night hecomes up and goes all around the house, rattling chains. Yes, he does.My brother went down with some of the boys and stayed there just to findout and they heard him."
"Let's go over there on our hike and stay over night, girls," Kitexclaimed. "I think it would be dandy."
"Don't you believe in ghosts, Kit?" asked Sally. "I don't like tobelieve in them, but I just thought they had to be believed in ifthey're really so."
"Remember in Dickens's 'Christmas Carol,'" Jean joined in, "hew oldScrooge insisted that he didn't believe in ghosts even when the ghostsat right beside him, and rattled his chains?"
"Oh, don't, Jeanie," Doris begged, arms close around the big sister'sneck. "Don't talk about it."
"We'll stay over night at the spring house, girls," Kit promisedhappily. "It's a shame to have a real ghost around and not make itwelcome. If there are any ghosts they must be the lonesomest creaturesin all creation because nobody wants them around. Suppose we say thatnext Friday we'll walk up to the house and camp out for the night.Who's afraid?"
The girls looked at each other doubtfully.
"Can I bring our dog along?" asked Ingeborg. "Then I am not afraid, Idon't think."
"Bring anything you like. I'm going to take an electric flashlight.Here comes our roller, now. We'd better finish the tennis court."
That night the girls talked it over themselves up in Jean's room. Itwas always the favorite council hour, when all the queen's hand-maidenscombed their silken tresses, as Helen said.
Somehow it did seem as if you could think clearer and weigh mattersbetter, after you were undressed, with a nightgown and kimono on,sitting cross-legged on the bed or couch. Mrs. Robbins always stopped onher way to bed to look in at either one room or the other, and chat fora while. She listened with an amused smile to the story Ingeborg hadtold.
"The fear of the dark, they say, comes from away back in the first dawnof the world," she said. "It is the old dread of the unknown the caveman felt when darkness fell over the land and wild beasts prowled near.But this other idea about the ghost is queer, isn't it, girls? Do youreally want to stay over night there?"
"I think we'd better, Mother dear," Jean answered comfortably, "We'll bethe warrior maidens, and slay the dragon Fear which hath most wickedlyenthralled our fair land. That's a nice little house, and everyone'safraid to live in it."
"Ingeborg told me after you girls came up to the house, that there wasone door in the sitting-room nobody could keep shut. It swung open allthe time."
"Never mind, Helen," Kit said. "I'll take it off its hinges, and cartit right down cellar. Then I guess it will behave itself."
Cousin Roxana told the story of the old spring house when they saw her.She could remember Scotty McDougal, the old watchmaker who had livedthere.
"
Land, yes, I should say I could. He used to wear an old coonskin capwith the tail hanging down, and carried an old gun along with himwherever he went. After he died, two old women moved in from somewherein the woods towards Dayville. They were Injun, I guess, or gypsy, realgood-hearted folks so far as I could see. Used to weave carpet and ragrugs and make baskets. There was a story around that they could tellfortunes and see things in the future, but that's just talk. I neverpay any attention to such things at all. The Lord never has seen fit tolet His way be known excepting through His own messengers. Probably, ifyou could clear the house of its name, somebody'd be willing to live init. It belongs to Judge Ellis."
"Who's Judge Ellis?" asked Kit, who always caught at a new name.
"Who is he?" Cousin Roxy laughed heartily. "Meanest man in sevencounties, I guess. He ran for Senator years ago, and was beaten, and hetook a solemn oath he'd never have anything to do with anybody in thistownship again, and I guess he's kept it. He lives in the biggest househere."
"All alone?" asked Doris.
"All alone excepting for a housekeeper and his grandson. He's just afussy old miser, and the way he lets that boy run wild makes my heartache."
"How old a boy is he, Roxy?" asked Mrs. Robbins, quick sympathy shiningfrom her eyes.
"Oh, I should say about fifteen. Name's Billie. He's a case, I tellyou. What he can't think of in five minutes isn't worth doing. Still,he's a good boy too, at that. Five of my cows strayed off from thepasture lot last summer and he found them after Hiram had run his legsoff looking for them. And once we lost some turkeys, and he found themover in the pines roosting with the crows. He knows every foot of landfor ten miles around here and more, I guess. You never know when he'sgoing to bob out of the bushes and grin at you. The Judge don't pay anymore attention to him than if he was a scarecrow. Seems that he had oneson, Finley Ellis, and he was wild and the Judge turned him off yearsago. And one day he got a letter, so Mr. Ricketts told me, from NewYork, and away he went, looking cross enough to chew tacks. When hecame back he had Billie with him, and that's all Gilead ever found out.Billie says he's his grandfather, and the Judge says nothing."
"I'd like to see him," Jean exclaimed.
"Who? The Judge?"
"No, no. Billie, this boy. What does he look like?"
"Looks like all-get-out half the time, and never comes to church at all.You'll know him by his whistling. He can whistle like a bird. I'veheard him sometimes in the early spring, and you couldn't tell hiswhistle from a real whip-poor-will. There is something about him thateverybody likes."
"I hope he comes over this way," Mrs. Robbins said.
"Oh, he will. The Judge never lets him have any pocket money, so he'salways trying to earn a little. He'll come and try to sell you a tamecrow, most likely, or a trained caterpillar. I was driving over towardstheir place one day and I declare if I didn't find him lying flat in themiddle of the road. Ella Lou stopped short and I asked him what he wasdoing. 'Don't drive in the middle of the road, Miss Robbins,' he said,''cause I've got some ants here, taming them.' Real good looking boy heis too."
"My, but he sounds interesting," Kit remarked fervently. "I almost feellike hunting him up; don't you, Jean?"
Jean nodded her head. She was putting up currants and raspberries, andthe day was very warm.
"Why do you keep a fire going in the house?" Miss Robbins asked her."Put an old stove out in the back-yard, the way I do, and let it sizzlealong. Good-bye, everybody. I hear all the ministers are stillspeaking to each other."
"Come down and play tennis with us," called Helen.
"Go 'long, child." Cousin Roxy chuckled. "How would I look hoppingaround like a katydid, slapping at those little balls! Get up there,Ella Lou."
"Well," Kit exclaimed, as the buggy drove away, "it seems as if everysingle day something new happens here, and we thought it would be sodull we wouldn't know what to do with ourselves."
"You mean Billie's something new?" asked Helen.
"Doesn't he sound interesting? I'm going out to ask Honey about him."
"You'd better help me finish these berries, Kathleen," Jean urged. SoKit gave up the quest temporarily, and sat on the edge of the kitchentable, stripping currants from their stems, and singing at the top ofher clear young lungs:
"'Oh, where have you been, Billie Boy, Billie Boy, Where have you been, charming Billie?' 'I've been to seek a wife, she's the comfort of my life,' But she's a young thing, and cannot leave her mother.'
"'Did she bid you come in, Billie Boy, Billie Boy, Did she bid you come, charming Billie?' 'Yes, she bid me come in, with a dimple in her chin, But she's a young thing, and cannot leave her mother.'
"'Did she offer you a chair, Billie Boy, Billie Boy, Did she offer you a chair, charming Billie?' 'Yes, she offered me a chair, with the ringlets in her hair, But she's a young thing and cannot leave her mother.'
"'Can she make a cherry pie, Billie Boy, Billie Boy--'"
"Oh, Kit, do stop," begged Jean. "It's too hot to sing."
Kit looked out at the widespread view of Greenacres, rich with the uncutgrass, billowing with every vagrant breeze, like distant waves. It washot in the kitchen, hot and close.
"I'll bet he'd let her stay right in the kitchen keeling pots and makingcherry pies, too," she said suddenly.
"Who?"
"Who?" wrathfully. "All the Billies of the world. They can ramblefields and whistle like whip-poor-wills, but we've just got to stay andmake cherry pies forever and ever, amen."
"Why, Kit, dear--"
"Don't 'dear' me. I want to get out and tramp and live in a tent. Ihate cooking. I don't see why anybody wants to eat this kind ofweather. I'd nibble grass first."
"Yes, you would," laughed Helen. "You'll be the first at supper to leanover sweetly and ask for preserves and cake. I see you nibbling grass,Miss Nebuchanezzar."
But Kit had fled, out the back door and over to the pasture wherePrincess rambled.
"Kit's fretful, isn't she?"
"She's pulling on her anchor," answered Jean. "We all do. Some days Iget really homesick for the girls back home and everything that wehaven't got here,--the library and the art galleries and the lecturesand the musicales and everything. I think we ought to write down andask some of the girls to come up."
"I don't. Not until Dad's well."
Doris was out of hearing. Jean looked over at Helen, who in some wayalways seemed nearer her own age than Kit.
"Helen, honest and truly, do you think Dad's getting any better?" sheasked in a low voice.
Helen hesitated, her face showing plainly how she dreaded acknowledgingeven to herself the possibility of his not improving.
"He eats better now, and he can sit up."
"But he looks awful. It fairly makes my heart ache to look at himsometimes. His eyes look as if they were gazing away off at some landwe couldn't see."
"Jean Robbins, how can you say that?"
"Hush. Don't let Mother hear," cautioned Jean anxiously. "I had totell somebody. I think of it all the time."
"Well, don't think of it. That's like sticking pins in a wax statueback in the Middle Ages, and saying, 'He's going to die, he's going todie,' all the time. He's getting better."
Jean was silent. She felt worried, but if Helen refused to listen toher, there was nobody left except Cousin Roxy. Somehow, at everyemergency Cousin Roxy seemed to be the one hope these days, unfailingand unfearing. Dauntless and cheerful, she rode over every obstacle likesome old warrior who had elected to rid the world of dragons.
But when Jean found an opportunity of speaking to her of her father,Cousin Roxana's face looked oddly passive.
"We're all in the Lord's hands, Jeanie," she said. "Trust and obey, youknow. There are lots worse things than passing over Jordan, but we'vejust got that notion in our heads that we don't want to let any of ourbeloved ones take the voyage. Jerry's weak, I know, and he ain
'tmending so fast as I'd hoped for, but he's gained. That's something.You've been up here only a couple of months. It took years of overworkto break him down, and it may take years of peace and rest to build himup. Let's be patient. Dr. Gallup seems to think he's got a good dealmore than a running chance."
Jean wound eager, loving arms around the plump figure, and laid her headdown on Cousin Roxy's shoulder.
"You dear," she exclaimed. "You're the best angel in a gingham apron Iever saw. I feel a hundred times better now. I can go back and work."
"Well, so do, child, and comfort your mother. Hope springs eternal, youknow, in the human breast, but it takes a sight of watering just thesame to make it perk up."