CHAPTER X
THE VENTURE
But Lyddy Bray never made up her mind in a hurry. Perhaps she was inclinedto err on the side of caution.
Whereas 'Phemie eagerly accepted a new thing, was enthusiastic about itfor a time, and then tired of it unless she got "her second wind," as sheherself laughingly admitted, Lyddy would talk over a project a long timebefore she really decided to act upon it.
It was so in this case. Once having seen the vista of possibilities thatLyddy's plan revealed, the younger girl was eager to plunge into thesummer-boarder project at once. But Lyddy was determined to know just whatthey had to work with, and just what they would need, before broaching theplan to Aunt Jane.
So she insisted upon giving a more than cursory examination to eachof the eight chambers on this second floor. Some of the pieces of oldfurniture needed mending; but most of the mending could be done witha pot of glue and a little ingenuity. Furthermore, a can of preparedvarnish and some linseed oil and alcohol would give most of the well-madeand age-darkened furniture the gloss it needed.
There were old-style stone-china toilet sets in profusion, and plenty ofmirrors, while there was closet room galore. The main lack, as 'Phemiehad pointed out, was in the mattress line.
But when the girls climbed to the garret floor they found one finishedroom there--a very good sleeping-room indeed--and on the bedstead in thisroom were stacked, one on top of another, at least a dozen feather beds.
Each bed was wrapped in sheets of tarred paper--hermetically sealed frommoths or other insect life.
"Oh, for goodness sake, Lyd!" cried 'Phemie, "let's take one of these tosleep on. There are pillows, too; but we've got _them_. Say! we can putone of these beds on top of the straw tick and be in comfort at last."
"All right. But the feather bed would be pretty warm for summer use,"sighed Lyddy, as she helped her sister lift down one of thebeds--priceless treasures of the old-time housewife.
"Country folk--some of them--sleep on feathers the year 'round,"proclaimed 'Phemie. "Perhaps your summer boarders can be educated up toit--or _down_ to it."
"Well, we'll try the 'down' and see how it works," agreed Lyddy. "My!these feathers are pressed as flat as a pancake. The bed must go out intothe sun and air and be tossed once in a while, so that the air will getthrough it, before there'll be any 'life' in these feathers. Now, don'ttry to do it all, 'Phemie. I'll help you downstairs with it in a minute.I just want to look into the big garret while we're up here. Dear me!isn't it dusty?"
Such an attractive-looking assortment of chests, trunks, old presses,boxes, chests of drawers, decrepit furniture, and the like as was setabout that garret! There was no end of old clothing hanging from therafters, too--a forest of garments that would have delighted an old clo'man; but----
"Oo! Oo! Ooo!" hooted 'Phemie. "Look at the spider webs. Why, I wouldn'ttouch those things for the whole farm. I bet there are fat old spiders upthere as big as silver dollars."
"Well, we can keep away from that corner," said Lyddy, with a shudder. "Idon't want old coats and hats. But I wonder what _is_ in those drawers. Weshall want bed linen if we go into the business of keeping boarders."
She tried to open some of the nearest presses and bureaus, but all werelocked. So, rather dusty and disheveled, they retired to the floor below,between them managing to carry the feather bed out upon the porch wherethe sun could shine upon it.
At noon Lyddy "buzzed" Lucas, as 'Phemie called it, about the way folk inthe neighborhood cooked with an open fire, and especially about the useof the brick oven that was built into the side of the chimney.
"That air contraption," confessed the young farmer, "ain't much more realuse than a fifth leg on a caow--for a fac'. But old folks used 'em. Mygrandmaw did.
"She useter shovel live coals inter the oven an' build a reg'lar fire onthe oven bottom. Arter it was het right up she'd sweep aout the brandsand ashes with long-handled brushes, an' then set the bread, an' pies,an' Injun puddin' an' the like--sometimes the beanpot, too--on the ovenfloor. Ye see, them bricks will hold heat a long time.
"But lemme tell ye," continued Lucas, shaking his head, "it took the _knowhow_, I reckon, ter bake stuff right by sech means. My maw never coulddo it. She says either her bread would be all crust, or 'twas raw in themiddle.
"But now," pursued Lucas, "these 'ere what they call 'Dutch ovens' ain'tso bad. I kin remember before dad bought maw the stove, she used a Dutchoven--an' she's got it yet. I know she'd lend it to you gals."
"That's real nice of you, Lucas," said 'Phemie, briskly. "But what is it?"
"Why, it's a big sheet-iron pan with a tight cover. You set it right inthe coals and shovel coals on top of it and all around it. Things bakepurty good in a Dutch oven--ya-as'm! Beans never taste so good to mynotion as they useter when maw baked 'em in the old Dutch oven. An' dadsays they was 'nough sight better when _he_ was a boy an' grandmaw baked'em in an oven like that one there," and Lucas nodded at the closet inthe chimney that 'Phemie had opened to peer into.
"Ye see, it's the slow, steady heat that don't die down tillmornin'--that's what bakes beans nice," declared this Yankee epicure.
Lucas had a "knack" with the axe, and he cut and piled enough wood tolast the girls at least a fortnight. Lyddy felt as though she could notafford to hire him more than that one day at present; but he was goingto town next day and he promised to bring back a pump leather and some fewother necessities that the girls needed.
Before he went home Lucas got 'Phemie off to one side and managed tostammer:
"If you gals air scart--or the like o' that--you jest say so an' I'll keepwatch around here for a night or two, an' see if I kin ketch the fellersyou heard talkin' last night."
"Oh, Lucas! I wouldn't trouble you for the world," returned 'Phemie.
Lucas's countenance was a wonderful lobster-like red, and he was sobashful that his eyes fairly watered.
"'Twouldn't be no trouble, Miss 'Phemie," he told her. "'Twould be apleasure--it re'lly would."
"But what would folks say?" gasped 'Phemie, her eyes dancing. "What wouldyour sister and mother say?"
"They needn't know a thing about it," declared Lucas, eagerly. "I--I couldslip out o' my winder an' down the shed ruff, an' sneak up here with myshot-gun."
"Why, Mr. Pritchett! I believe you are in the habit of doing such things.I am afraid you get out that way often, and the family knows nothing aboutit."
"Naw, I don't--only circus days, an' w'en the Wild West show comes,an'--an' Fourth of July mornin's. But don't you tell; will yer?"
"Cross my heart!" promised 'Phemie, giggling. "But suppose you shouldshoot somebody around here with that gun?"
"Sarve 'em aout jest right!" declared the young farmer, boldly. "B'sides,I'd only load it with rock-salt. 'Twould pepper 'em some."
"Salt and pepper 'em, Lucas," giggled the girl. "And season 'em right, Iexpect, for breaking our rest."
"I'll do it!" declared Lucas.
"Don't you dare!" threatened 'Phemie.
"Why--why----"
Lucas was swamped in his own confusion again.
"Not unless I tell you you may," said 'Phemie, smiling on him dazzlinglyonce more.
"Wa-al."
"Wait and see if we are disturbed again," spoke the girl, more kindly."I really am obliged to you, Lucas; but I couldn't hear of your watchingunder our windows these cold nights--and, of course, it wouldn't be properfor us to let you stay in the house."
"Wa-al," agreed the disappointed youth. "But if ye need me, ye'll let meknow?"
"Sure pop!" she told him, and was only sorry when he was gone thatshe could not tell Lyddy all about it, and give her older sister "animitation" of Lucas as a cavalier.
The girls wrote the letter to Aunt Jane that evening and the next morningthey watched for the rural mail-carrier, who came along the highroad, pastthe end of their lane, before noon.
He brought a letter from Aunt Jane for Lyddy, and he was ready to stop andgossip with the girls who had
so recently come to Hillcrest Farm.
"I'm glad to see some life about the old doctor's house again," declaredthe man. "I can remember Dr. Polly--everybody called him that--rightwell. He was a queer customer some ways--brusk, and sort of rough. But hewas a good deal like a chestnut burr. His outside was his worst side.He didn't have no soothing bedside mannerisms; but if a feller was real_sick_, it was a new lease of life to jest have the old doctor come interthe room!"
It made the girls happy and proud to have people speak this way of theirgrandfather.
"He warn't a man who didn't make enemies," ruminated the mail-carrier."He was too strong a man not to be well hated in certain quarters. Hewarn't pussy-footed. What he meant he said out square and straight, an'when he put his foot down he put it down emphatic. Yes, sir!
"But he had a sight more friends than enemies when he died. And lots o'folks that thought they hated Dr. Polly could look back--when he was deadand gone--an' see how he'd done 'em many a kind turn unbeknownst to 'emat the time.
"Why," rambled on the mail-carrier, "I was talkin' to Jud Spink in Birch'sstore only las' night. Jud ain't been 'round here for some time before,an' suthin' started talk about the old doctor. Jud, of course, sailedinter him."
"Why?" asked 'Phemie, trying to appear interested, while Lyddy swiftlyread her letter.
"Oh, I reckon you two gals--bein' only granddaughters of the olddoctor--never heard much about Jud Spink--Lemuel Judson Spink he callshisself now, an' puts a 'professor' in front of his name, too."
"Is he a professor?" asked 'Phemie.
"I dunno. He's been a good many things. Injun doctor--actor--medicineshow fakir--patent medicine pedlar; and now he owns 'Diamond Grits'--thegreatest food on airth, _he_ claims, an' I tell him it's great all right,for man _an'_ beast!" and the mail-carrier went off into a spasm oflaughter over his own joke.
"Diamond Grits is a breakfast food," chuckled 'Phemie. "Do you s'posehorses would eat it, too?"
"Mine will," said the mail-carrier. "Jud sent me a case of Grits and Ifed most of it to this critter. Sassige an' buckwheats satisfy me betterof a mornin', an' I dunno as this hoss has re'lly been in as good shapesince I give it the Grits.
"Wa-al, Jud's as rich as cream naow; but the old doctor took him as a boyout o' the poorhouse."
"And yet you say he talks against grandfather?" asked 'Phemie, rathercurious.
"Ain't it just like folks?" pursued the man, shaking his head. "Yes, sir!Dr. Polly took Jud Spink inter his fam'bly and might have made suthin' ofhim; but Jud ran away with a medicine show----"
"He's made a rich man of himself, you say?" questioned 'Phemie.
"Ya-as," admitted the mail-carrier. "But everybody respected the olddoctor, an' nobody respects Jud Spink--they respect his money.
"Las' night Jud says the old doctor was as close as a clam with thelockjaw, an' never let go of a dollar till the eagle screamed for marcy.But he done a sight more good than folks knowed about--till after hedied. An' d'ye know the most important clause in his will, Miss?"
"In grandfather's will?"
"Ya-as. It was the instructions to his execketer to give a receiptedbill to ev'ry patient of his that applied for the same, free gratis fornothin'! An' lemme tell ye," added the mail-carrier, preparing to driveon again, "there was some folks on both sides o' this ridge that wasdown on the old doctor's books for sums they could never hope to pay."
As he started off 'Phemie called after him, brightly:
"I'm obliged to you for telling me what you have about grandfather."
"Beginning to get interested in neighborhood gossip already; are you?"said her sister, when 'Phemie joined her, and they walked back up the lane.
"I believe I am getting interested in everything folks can tell us aboutgrandfather. In his way, Lyddy, Dr. Apollo Phelps must have been a greatman."
"I--I always had an idea he was a little _queer_," confessed Lyddy. "Hisname you know, and all----"
"But people really _loved_ him. He helped them. He gave unostentatiously,and he must have been a very, very good doctor. I--I wonder what Aunt Janemeant by saying that grandfather used to say there were curative waters onthe farm?"
"I haven't the least idea," replied Lyddy. "Sulphur spring, perhaps--nastystuff to drink. But listen here to what Aunt Jane says about father."
"He's better?" cried 'Phemie.
The older girl's tone was troubled. "I can't make out that he is," shesaid, slowly, and then she began to read Aunt Jane's disjointed accountof her visit the day before to the hospital:
* * * * *
"I never _do_ like to go to such places, girls; they smell so of ether,and arniky, and collodion, and a whole lot of other unpleasant things. Iwonder what makes drugs so nasty to smell of?
"But, anyhow, I seen your father. John Bray is a sick man. Maybe he don'tknow it himself, but the doctors know it, and you girls ought to knowit. I'm plain-spoken, and there isn't any use in making you believe he ison the road to recovery when he's going just the other way.
"This head-doctor here, says he has no chance at all in the city. Ofcourse, for me, if I was sick with anything, from housemaid's knee tospinal mengetus, going into the country would be my complete finish! Butthe doctors say it's different with your father.
"And just as soon as John Bray can ride in a railroad car, I am going tosee that he joins you at Hillcrest."
"Bully!" cried 'Phemie, the optimistic. "Oh, Lyddy! he's bound to get wellup here." For this chanced to be a very beautiful spring day and the girlswere more than ever enamored of the situation.
"I am not so sure," said Lyddy, slowly.
"Don't be a grump!" commanded her sister. "He's just _got_ to get wellup here." But Lyddy wondered afterward if 'Phemie believed what she saidherself!
They finished cleaning thoroughly the two rooms they were at presentoccupying and began on the chambers above. Dust and the hateful spiderwebscertainly had collected in the years the house had been unoccupied; butthe Bray girls were not afraid of hard work. Indeed, they enjoyed it.
Toward evening Lucas and his sister appeared, and the former set to workto repair the old pump on the porch, while Sairy sat down to "visit" withthe girls of Hillcrest Farm.
"It's goin' to be nice havin' you here, I declare," said Miss Pritchett,who had arranged two curls on either side of her forehead, which shookin a very kittenish manner when she laughed and bridled.
"I guess, as maw says, I'm too much with old folks. Fust I know they'llbe puttin' me away in the Home for Indignant Old Maids over there toAdams--though why 'indignant' I can't for the life of me guess, 'nlessit's because they're indignant over the men's passin' of 'em by!" andMiss Pritchett giggled and shook her curls, to 'Phemie's vast amusement.
Indeed, the younger Bray girl confessed to her sister, after the visitorshad gone, that Sairy was more fun than Lucas.
"But I'm afraid she's far on the way to the Home for Indigent Spinsters,and doesn't know it," chuckled 'Phemie. "What a freak she is!"
"That's what you called Lucas--at first," admonished Lyddy. "And they'reboth real kind. Lucas wouldn't take a cent for mending the pump, andSairy came especially to invite us to the Temperance Club meeting, atthe schoolhouse Saturday night, and to go to church in their carriagewith her and her mother on Sunday."
"Yes; I suppose they _are_ kind," admitted 'Phemie. "And they can't helpbeing funny."
"Besides," said the wise Lyddy, "if we _do_ try to take boarders we'llneed Lucas's help. We'll have to hire him to go back and forth to townfor us, and depend on him for the outside chores. Why! we'd be like twomarooned sailors on a desert island, up here on Hillcrest, if it wasn'tfor Lucas Pritchett!"
The girls spent a few anxious days waiting for Aunt Jane's answer. Andmeantime they discussed the project of taking boarders from all itsvarious angles.
"Of course, we can't get boarders yet awhile," sighed 'Phemie. "It's muchtoo early in the season."
"Why is it? Aren't _we_ glad
to be here at Hillcrest?" demanded Lyddy.
"But see what sort of a place we lived in," said her sister.
"And lots of other people live hived up in the cities just as close, onlyin better houses. There isn't much difference between apartment-housesand tenement-houses except the front entrance!"
"That may be epigrammatical," chuckled 'Phemie, "but you couldn't makemany folks admit it."
"Just the same, there are people who need just this climate we've got hereat this time of year. It will do them as much good as it will father."
"You'd make a regular sanitarium of Hillcrest," cried 'Phemie.
"Well, why not?" retorted Lyddy. "I guess the neighbors wouldn't object."
'Phemie giggled. "Advertise to take folks back to old-fashioned times andold-fashioned cooking."
"Why not?"
"Sleeping on feather beds; cooking in a brick oven like ourgreat-great-grandmothers used to do! Open fireplaces. Great!"
"Plain, wholesome food. They won't have to eat out of cans. No extras orluxuries. We could afford to take them cheap," concluded Lyddy, earnestly."And we'll get a big garden planted and feed 'em on vegetables throughthe summer."
"Oh, Lyddy, it _sounds_ good," sighed 'Phemie. "But do you suppose AuntJane will consent to it?"
They received Aunt Jane's letter in reply to their own, on Saturday.
* * * * *
"You two girls go ahead and do what you please inside or outsideHillcrest," she wrote, "only don't disturb the old doctor's stuff inthe lower rooms of the east ell. As long as you don't burn the housedown I don't see that you can do any harm. And if you really thinkyou can find folks foolish enough to want to live up there on theridge, six miles from a lemon, why go ahead and do it. But I tell youfrankly, girls, I'd want to be paid for doing it, and paid high!"
Then the kind, if brusk, old lady went on to tell them where to find manythings packed away that they would need if they _did_ succeed in gettingboarders, including stores of linen, and blankets, and the like, as wellas some good china and old silver, buried in one of the great chests inthe attic.
However, nothing Aunt Jane could write could quench the girls' enthusiasm.Already Lyddy and 'Phemie had written an advertisement for the citypapers, and five dollars of Lyddy's fast shrinking capital was to beset aside for putting their desires before the newspaper-reading public.
They could feel then that their new venture was really launched.