CHAPTER II
THE WRONG AT HIS DOOR
As the lantern held by Gilbert flashed upon the furry object, 'Lisha,who was bending over it, jumped back as though he had been shot, crying,"Good God, Gilbert, it isn't a dog; I reckon it's a child!"
At the same time he gathered up the bundle, and, almost tramplingGilbert in his haste, strode into the kitchen, where he laid it on thetable.
The outer wrapping was a well-worn buffalo-robe, and from between itsfolds a small, white-mittened hand was visible.
For a moment the two men stood side by side, speechless withastonishment; then Gilbert began to unfold the robe with fingers thattrembled so he could scarcely direct them. Inside the skin was an afghanof soft wool tied crosswise, while in the depths of this nest lay achild, wrapped from foot to head in coat and cap of white coney, eventhe face being hidden by a knitted Shetland veil. The little form was sostill that Gilbert dreaded to touch it, but 'Lisha, having pulledhimself together, lifted the veil, disclosing softly rounded, pinkcheeks and red lips slightly parted in regular, if rather heavy,breathing. This action disturbed the sleeper without waking her, forshe relaxed the arm that had been pressed close against her breast, andfrom under it a tiny puppy sprawled out, dragging with it a largehandkerchief in which it had been wrapped, as if to make a doll of it.He was not an aristocrat of the dog world, but one of those waifs that,decorated with a bit of ribbon, are sold on city street corners for adollar, the appeal of their youth, added to the speculative element inall of us, finding ready purchasers for them.
The puppy, tawny and roughish as to coat, having one ear that stuck upwhile the other lopped, and the keenest of eyes, after licking the faceand the long-lashed lids of the child without getting a response,tumbled to the edge of the table and began wagging his ridiculous rattail and making friendly advances to the men. Seeing that even thepuppy's rough caresses did not waken the baby, Gilbert raised one of theeyelids gently, and then after holding his face close, whispered to'Lisha: "Just as I thought, she's drugged with paregoric; we'll have torouse her even if she is scared of us and makes a time. I well rememberhow it was with Marygold when sister Pegrim, not having her glasses,gave her a large instead of a small spoon of cough syrup by mistake.I'll wash her face and see if I can't liven her up. Just pull thatrocker over here, 'Lisha, and give me the tin basin of water."
As he talked, Gilbert was undoing the coat and cap from which came thehead of a child of about a year, covered with a mass of hair that lay inclose golden rings, with here and there a tinge of copper, in strangecontrast to the dark lashes and eyebrows.
From the moment his eyes had rested on her, Gilbert had unconsciouslysaid _she_, for every curve and line was feminine. Yet even with closedeyes, there was nothing doll-like about her, while there was almost asuggestion of resolution about the mouth corners.
"Now, precious, wake up and look at the pretty light," crooned Gilbert,holding her with awkward hands, against his shoulder, so that her headcame above it, yet in a way that no man would have done who had not heldhis own child.
Presently, the heavy eyelids drew upward, and then after theconsciousness of light became complete, she looked about the room, gavea little cry of delight, and held out her hands when she saw the puppy,rounding her lips into a sound like wow-wow; but as her eyes rested uponbig, ugly 'Lisha, her chin quivered, her cooing voice trailed off into aheart-broken wail, and she hid her face in Gilbert's neck.
What the confiding touch meant to the lonely man, only he and his Makerknew. It thrilled him to his finger-tips, awakened life springs that hebelieved forever dry, and tears, unknown to him these nine years, becamea possibility, but not while 'Lisha stood there gaping at him withhanging jaw. In a few moments the wailing stopped, and she began to lookabout once more.
"Fetch me a cup of water, 'Lisha; mebbe she's thirsty."
As he turned to carry out Gilbert's directions, the young lady began tosmack her lips and show by her bodily motions that she knew what theword "thirsty" and a cup in sight promised.
As Gilbert helped to guide it to her mouth with one hand, the corners ofher lips, assisted by a little quiver of the nose, expressedunmistakable disgust at finding only water.
"Guess she's looking for milk same as kittens do," suggested 'Lisha,tiptoeing to the table and peering into an empty pitcher. "Greatsnakes!" his favorite ejaculation, "I spilled the last drop into mycoffee. The pup wants some, too, I reckon," as the queer little beast,nose in air and tail wagging furiously, seemed bound to climb up histrousers leg.
"Of course she does, the lamb!" said Gilbert, holding her from him uponhis knee, the better to look over her. "But where is it to come from?It's half an hour past midnight and I don't like to wake up theneighbors," he mused.
"Got a small open kettle?" asked 'Lisha, rummaging in the pantry. "I'vefound it; now do you fix up a place for her to sleep while I fetch hersupper," he continued, with the air of one to whom the care of strangelady babies was an everyday occurrence, when, truth be told, he hadnever before come in contact with any young thing more delicate than acalf or a long-legged colt.
"Don't go to the Bakers'," pleaded Gilbert; "I know they're the nearest,but Mrs. Baker'll come back with you for sure, and I want time to turnaround before any women folks bear down on me."
"Nope, I'm not going to confide in any female, least it's Brooks's redcow. I milked for them when the old man broke his leg last fall, 'n' thecow knows me. It's only a quarter of a mile up the road; cow barn has nowindows on house side; key's kept under a mustard box on thewindow-sill. Baker took his gun to Bridgeton Saturday to get hercleaned. Not a bit of danger, and I'll explain to 'em to-morrow. Back inno time."
So, jerking out his words with gestures as mysterious as if he weregoing to commit a desperate crime, 'Lisha went out through the backhallway, lest opening the front door should let in too much air.
He had no sooner gone than Gilbert's whole attitude changed. Settlingthe little girl comfortably on his knees, he began to scrutinize herclothing carefully, babbling a string of baby talk that would have beenalmost unintelligible to the uninitiated, but that seemed very soothingand reassuring to the child, who, after wriggling for a few minutes, asthough determined to get to her feet, suddenly discovered Gilbert'sbeard, which he had knotted up to get it out of the way of the cooking.It was fastened with a large shell hairpin that he had probably pickedup in the post-office. Fascinated by this unusual object, she clutchedat it with both hands, gave a crow of delight, and began jerking up anddown on his knee as if riding on a hobby-horse, treating Gilbert's beardas its mane. Next spying the puppy on the floor, she stiffened herselfand prepared to slide down to him.
"All right," crooned Gilbert. "Let's see if the little lammy can stand?Yes, but not so very well," he added, as, after taking a single step,she doubled up and almost sat on the pup.
"Now we'll sit her on the lounge to play with doggy, while daddy getsher bed fixed."
The word "daddy" slipped from his lips unconsciously, as he pulled thehigh-backed sofa out from the wall and propped the child up with somehusk pillows and a comforter. Then he stole across to the bedroom where,after choosing a key from the chain that was fastened to his pocket, heunlocked a high chest of drawers still keeping his eye on the lounge andits occupants.
"She's somewhere about a year, I reckon," he said, talking to himself,after the fashion of those who are much alone. "She's bigger thanMarygold was at fourteen months, but not so clever on her feet. As fortalking, they're something alike; Marygold only said 'Daddy' and 'Puss,'and I guess I can piece out some words from what _she_ says when I getthe time. Wow-wow means dog plain enough. I must get her undressedbefore 'Lisha comes back; he's all right, but too rough in his ways forhandling a lady baby, and that's what the little one is."
Having taken some clothes from the drawers,--a pair of knitted socks, alittle night-dress of yellow shaker flannel, and a quilted wrapper ingay-flowered print, all smelling of camphor and their long, pent-upyears in the chest,--
he spread them on a chair by the stove to air andwarm.
Meanwhile, the child had nestled back among the pillows and was halfdozing, the puppy clasped tight in her arms. Going once more to thebedroom, Gilbert stood a moment before the quaint hooded cradle, made upready for occupancy from spread to pilch, the cradle from out of whichhe himself had gazed alternately at the leaves on the wall paper and theleaves against the sky, dreaming in knowledge after the manner ofbabies. Then lifting the cradle, he carried it into the kitchen,negotiating the doorway with difficulty, for his burden was heavy andthe rockers wide of angle to prevent the overthrow of the occupant.Pushing his hand between the sheets and finding them clammy to thetouch, he pulled them off and brought others from the inexhaustiblechest.
Then came the undressing of the lady baby herself, which was done asdexterously as a woman might, for Gilbert's fingers, used to thehandling of mere specks of machinery, did not fumble with strings,buttons, or the intricacies of shield pins. Moreover, memory crept intohis finger-tips and guided the almost-forgotten task, even as feet thatonce have trodden a daily path, returning to it in the dark, after thelapse of a lifetime, follow each rise and fall.
Piling the clothes she had worn upon the table, he held the little feetin his big, rough palm, warming them, rocking gently the while. With asleepy friendliness, the child nestled to him; then, twisting as thoughsomething pressed uncomfortably on her flesh, pushing her hand into theneck of the knitted shirt that Gilbert had left on for extra warmth, shebegan tugging at something, looking into his face and patting his handas if to ask his help.
"What is it, lammy? A tight string that chokes? Let daddy feel."
Drawing up a chain of intricate links, his fingers closed upon a thinlocket or watch, he could not tell which, as it would not open. Heunfastened the chain and put it with the heap of clothes, as the dooropened and 'Lisha, fairly blue with the cold, some of which rushed inwith him, returned with the milk. The trip from the Brooks farm hadcooled it sufficiently to make it palatable and this time the child tooka long drink, sighing with satisfaction when she paused for breath, withher four tiny teeth clenched on the thick china cup to prevent its beingtaken away.
Then with unmistakable gestures, she asked that the puppy might alsohave some. She sat blinking and keeping her eyes open with difficultywatching until his little elastic stomach began to grow heavy, andrummaging a bit of carpet into a sort of nest, he settled for the night,half under the stove. This did not suit the lady baby; she wished tohold the puppy and began to show a decided bit of temper, until Gilbert,lifting her from the lounge, carried her on his shoulder to the bedroom,saying, "Hold crying a minute, lammy, 'til daddy sees what he can findin the drawer. Yes, I thought it was here;" and the child, hugging a ragdoll flat faced and faded, allowed herself to be tucked into the cradlewithout a murmur, and fell into natural sleep, the deep hood of thecradle completely shutting off the light.
'Lisha gave a sigh of relief that was almost tragic. "She's safe off tosleep and we ain't dropped her, nor broke her, thank the Lord! Well,Gilbert, what do you think?" and the giant, spreading his hands behindhim, backed toward the stove.
"Think? Why, I reckon, after Marygold, she's the sweetest little one Iever set eyes on, and in some ways she's remarkably like her, 'speciallythe way she sets her chin,--"
"Great snakes! I don't mean that," snorted 'Lisha. "How do you think shecome here? Who brought her and why? Don't it strike you as anythingunusual that a child of her age, all togged out fine, should be left ona porch in the middle of a perishing cold night?"
"Of course, of course, 'Lisha, it's unusual, and I reckon that's halfthe reason that I've been in a daze ever since; that, and feelingsomething warm and small on my knee. Now she's safe and asleep, it's ourduty to investigate and let her people know her whereabouts soon as I'vemade up the morning mail. Draw up to the table and we'll find if there'sany marks on her clothes.
"To my thinking, it's a case of kidnapping," Gilbert continued, "eitherfor money, or perhaps spite. Even parents do queer things to outfaceeach other sometimes. Oh, you needn't shake your head, I _know_; there'sa chance to see a deal of life in a post-office.
"Whoever was making away with the lady baby likely got scared, or wassorry for the job, so left her here in a public place where she'd besoon found."
"Where'd they come from _last_?" persisted 'Lisha, but received noanswer, as Gilbert was examining each garment, fingering them carefully,inch by inch, and though 'Lisha did likewise, no marks of any sort, noteven an embroidered initial, could they discover.
The large locket of heavily chased gold, the pattern much worn on thesides, after many efforts at prying, at last flew open, purely byaccident when its secret spring was touched. Within, the picture of ayoung woman seemed to look so directly in their faces, that both menexclaimed. The face was that of a girl of eighteen or nineteen. Darkbrows and lashes guarded large hazel eyes, the nose was a trifletip-tilted, and this, together with the parted lips, gave the impressionthat she was about to speak, while a very firm chin lent decision to theyouthful roundness of the face. Exquisitely shaded hair, in tints ofgold, copper, and ash, curved back from the broad forehead, and wasloosely braided and coiled about the small head, while resting lightly,half sidewise on the braids, was a wreath of poppies, not the flamingoriental flowers that suggest sensuous drowsiness, but delicate,rosy-flushed blossoms with petals frail as the wings of a night moth.
The two men did not analyze the face that looked frankly into theirs,they only knew that it was beautiful. Presently, the light caught uponthe inside of the cover of the locket showing, imperfectly, lettersengraved thereon.
"Get me my watch-glass from the work bench," said Gilbert, his handstrembling with expectation. But this revealed only a single word anddate,--"Poppea--1850."
"Poppea! what's that, a place?" asked 'Lisha, turning the locket thisway and that in the hope of finding more.
"It's a woman's name if I remember rightly, and I think I've met it inMr. Plutarch's book or some history. The wife of one of the Caesars orsome one of importance. I'll look it up to-morrow. Anyway, the pictureis done on ivory like the one of Miss Felton's mother that she wears ina brooch. Some said it was only made of tea-cup china, so one day, whenshe was waiting for me to weigh a package, I made bold to ask, and shesaid, 'No, Mr. Gilbert, it is painted on ivory and is a work of art.' SoI judged only the well-to-do can lay claim to this sort, which carriesout what I say, as I did before, the lady baby has been kidnapped. Nowlets us turn in. You go in my room and I'll take the shake-down on thelounge and keep a watch on the lady baby."
'Lisha, pulling himself stiffly to his feet to obey, stumbled over thecorner of the buffalo-robe that had been pushed under the table andremained unnoticed.
"I wonder if this thing has anything to tell on the subject," he said,spreading it wrong side up on the floor and scrutinizing the patched andfaded lining slowly.
"Look here, Gilbert! Just look at that patch there in the northeastcorner, that piece of felt with moon and star figgers on it! 'Long aboutChristmas, Dr. Morewood was up at the farm in a sleigh from the stableat Westboro, his own being in the shop for new irons. He'd throwd therobe over his horse, and it slipping off, it got trampled, so he askedmother to take a stitch in it. But the hole being big, she threw in ahasty patch made from the end of an old table cover that had been in oursetting room since I was knee high to a toad. What you're looking at isthat patch."
"You'd reckon the party that brought the child had a team from Beers'sstable then," said Gilbert, now all eagerness. "If so, why didn't wehear the rumble of it on the ice, and how would they account for therobe when they got back?"
"As for the team, it might have been a sleigh with hushed bells; wefellows up our way often fix them like that when we want to take thegirls out riding on the sly and the old folks asleep. As for their goingback, yer running on too fast; that's to be found to-morrow. That we'vegot a clew right here's enough for you now. One o'clock! Great snakes!it's to-morrow right
now, and me due up home to milk at six and you topack up the first mail down. Say, Gilbert, don't you want me to stop atMis' Pegrim's as I go up and hustle her down for the day until thischild business is settled up? You'll have your hands overflowin', whatwith her and it and all the people that'll be in ponderin' andadvisin'."
"Well," replied Gilbert, his hands working nervously, as he twisted anduntwisted the long beard from which the lady baby had pulled the pin,"under the circumstances, I guess it'll be best, and I'd be obliged ifyou'd hook up and fetch her yourself. 'Tisn't necessary for her to stopand talk to every fence post on the way, either. As to the locket,that's most likely _her_ mother's picture; we'll keep quiet about it,lest, being valuable, it's wrongly claimed."
Soon comfortable snores sounded from the inner room. Gilbert, wrapping aquilt about him, lay down upon the lounge without undressing. Sleepwould not come; instead, scenes and people of long ago flitted throughthe room as across a stage; the wind from chimney, keyholes, andwindow-sash supplying speech. Presently the light of the old moon, thatwould loiter in the west until after sunrise, crept in the windowthrough the geraniums and reaching out long fingers toward the cradle,seemed to Gilbert's burning eyes to draw it from him. Getting up, helooked at the child, rosy with sleep, still clasping Marygold's fadeddoll, turned the cradle once more into the shadow, and kneeling by itwith his arms clasped over the hood, half thought, half whispered, "Ican't tell how or why, only that a child is here, but if to make up formy home-staying, as he wrote, this is that other wrong for me to rightat my own door,--I thank Thee, Lord!" Then quickening the dying fire,Gilbert finished his vigil before it in Mary's rocking-chair.