CHAPTER XLIV
"Is that the house?" asked Lewis, as they mounted the brow of the hill.
Leighton nodded.
Across a wide expanse of green that was hardly smooth enough to becalled a lawn gleamed the stately homestead. It was of deep-red brick,trimmed with white. It stood amid a grove of giant sugar-maples. Themaples blended with the green shutters of the house, and made it seempart and parcel of the grove. Upon its front no veranda had daredencroach, but at one side could be seen a vine-covered stoop that mighthave been called a veranda had it not been dwarfed to insignificance bythe size of the house. The front door, which alone in that country-sideboasted two leaves, was wide open, and on the steps leading up to it,resplendent in fresh gingham, stood Mrs. Tuck.
With some difficulty William persuaded the bays to turn into thelong-unused drive that swept up to the front door. Leighton sprang out.
"Hallo, Mrs. Tuck!" he cried. "How are you?"
"How do you do? I'm very pleased to see you back, Mr. Leighton," saidMrs. Tuck, who read the best ten-cent literature and could talk "realperlite" for five minutes at a stretch. "Come right along in. You'llfind all the rooms redded up--I mean--"
"Yes, yes," laughed Leighton, "I know what you mean all right. I haven'teven forgotten the smell of hot mince pies. Lew, don't you notice a sortof culinary incense----'
"Land sakes! them pies is a-_burnin'_!" shrieked Mrs. Tuck as she turnedand ran.
William offered to show the way to the bedrooms, but Leighton refused.
"No," he said, "we'll come around and help you put up the team. No usewashing up till we get our things."
Silas, with the spring-wagon, duly appeared. On top of the baggage, legsin air, was the discarded canopy of the carryall. Beside Silas satNelton. He was trembling all over. In his lap he held Lewis's hat. Hisbulging eyes were fastened on it.
"There they be," grunted Silas. "Told you they was all right. William bea keerful driver."
Nelton raised his eyes slowly. They lit, with wonder.
"Mr. Leighton," he cried, "Master Lewis, are you safe?'
"Quite safe, Nelton," said Leighton. "Why?"
Nelton mutely held out Lew's hat and jerked his head back at the wreckedcanopy.
"Oh, yes," said Leighton, nodding; "we dropped those. Thank you forpicking them up. Take the bags up-stairs."
"Lew," said Leighton, as they were washing, "did you use to have dinnerat night at Nadir or supper?"
"Supper," said Lewis.
"Well," said Leighton, "that's what you'll get today--at six o'clock,and don't you be frightened when you see it. It has been said of theScotch that the most wonderful thing about them is that they can live onoats. The mystery of the brawn and muscle of New England is no lesswrapped up in pies. But don't hesitate. Pitch in. There's somethingabout this air that turns a nightly mixture of mince-pies, pumpkin-pies,custard-pies, lemon-pies, and apple-pies, with cheese, into a substanceas heavenly light as fresh-fallen manna. It is a tradition, wiselyfostered by the farmers, that the only thing that can bring nightmareand the colic to a stomach in New England are green apples and stolenmelons."
Lewis was in good appetite, as was Leighton. They ate heartily of manythings besides pies, went to bed at nine, and would have slept the roundof the clock had not a great gong--a bit of steel rail hung on awire--and all the multitudinous noises of farm headquarters broken outin one simultaneous chorus at half-past five in a glorious morning.
Noisy geese and noisier cocks, whinnying horses and lowing cattle, therattle of milk-tins, the squeak of the well-boom, the clank ofmowing-machines, the swish of a passing brush-harrow, and, finally, theclamoring gong, were too much for Nelton. Lewis, on his way to look fora bath, caught him stuffing what he called "cotton an' wool" into hisears.
"Tork about the streets of Lunnon, Master Lewis," he said. "I calls thiscountry life _deafenin'_."
Lewis had wanted to telegraph to Natalie, but Leighton had stopped him.
"You've waited too long for that," he had said. "You have apparentlyneglected Natalie and Mrs. Leighton. When people think they've beenneglected, never give them a chance to think up what they're going tosay to you. Just fall on them."
As soon as they had breakfasted, Leighton took Lewis to the top of thehill at the back of the homestead. It was a high hill. It commanded along stretch of the Housatonic Valley to the east, and toward the westand north it overlooked two ridges, with the dips between, before theeye came up against the barrier of the Berkshire range.
Lewis drew a long breath of the cold, morning air.
"It's beautiful, Dad," he said.
"Beautiful!" repeated Leighton, his eyes sweeping slowly and wistfullyacross the scene. "Boy, God has made no lovelier land."
Then he turned to the west and pointed across to the second ridge. "Doyou see that gleam of white that stands quite alone?"
"Yes, I think I see what you mean," said Lewis. "'Way down, just belowit, you can see the tip of a church steeple."
"So you can," said Leighton. "Well, that gleam of white is Aunt Jed's.Make for it. That's where you'll find Natalie."
"Is it?" said Lewis, straightening, and with a flush of excitement inhis cheeks. "Aren't you coming, too?"
"No," said Leighton; "not to-day. We won't expect you back beforesupper. Tell Mrs. Leighton that I'll be over soon to see her and thankher."
Lewis started off with an eager stride, only to learn that Aunt Jed'swas farther away than it looked. He found a road and followed it throughthe valley and up the first ridge, then seeing that the road meanderedoff to the right into a village, he struck off across the fieldsstraight for the distant house.
He had passed through the moist bottoms and come upon a tract ofrock-strewn pasture land when he saw before him the figure of a girl.Her back was to him. A great, rough straw hat hid her head. She wore awhite blouse and a close-fitting blue skirt. She was tall and supple,but she walked slowly, with her eyes on the ground. In one hand shecarried a little tin pail.
Lewis came up behind her.
"What are you looking for?" he asked.
The girl started and turned. Lewis stepped forward. They stood andstared at each other. The little tin pail slipped from the girl's hand.
"Strawberries," she stammered. "I was looking for strawberries." Thenshe added so low that he scarcely heard her, "Lew?"
"Nat!" cried Lewis. "It _is_ Nat!"
Natalie swayed toward him. He caught her by the arms. She looked at himand tried to smile, but instead she crumpled into a heap on a rock andcried--cried as though her heart would break.
Lewis sat down beside her and put one arm around her.
"Why, Nat, aren't you glad to see me? Nat, don't cry! Aren't you gladI've come?"
Natalie nodded her head hard, but did not try to speak. Not till she hadquite finished crying did she look up. Then her tear-stained face brokeinto a radiant smile.
"That's--that's why I'm crying," she gasped; "because I'm so glad."
So there they sat together and talked about what? About strawberries.Lewis said that he had walked miles across the fields, and seen heaps ofblossoms but no berries. He didn't think the wild ones had berries.Which, Natalie said, was nonsense. Of course they had berries, only itwas too early. She had found three that were pinkish. She pointed tothem where they had rolled from the little tin pail. Lewis picked one upand examined it.
"You're right," he said gravely, "it's a strawberry."
Then silence fell upon them--a long silence, and at the end Lewis said:
"Nat, do you remember at Nadir the guavas--when, you'd come out to whereI was with the goats?"
Natalie nodded, a starry look in her far-away eyes.
"Nat," said Lew, "tell me about it--about Nadir--about--abouteverything. About how you went back to Consolation Cottage."
Natalie flashed a look at him.
"How did you know we had been back to Consolation Cottage?"
"Why, I went there," said Lewis. "It isn't three months s
ince I wentthere."
"Did you, Lew?" said Natalie, her face brightening. "Did you go just tolook for us?"
"Of course," said Lewis. "Now tell me."
"No," said Natalie, with a shake of her head, "you first."