The Phantom Yacht

  CHAPTER XXIV. A SURPRISING REVELATION

  The girls stood where Gib had left them staring at each other in puzzledamazement. "Well, what do you make of it?" Dories was the first toexclaim. Nann laughingly shook her head. "I don't know unless thisconfirms our theory that Gib writes the notes. I almost think it does."

  They started walking toward the cabin. "Well, time will tell and a shorttime, too, if we are to know all today," Dories remarked, then added,"That long walk has made me ravenously hungry and we haven't a thingcooked up." Then she paused and sniffed. "What is that delicious odor? Itsmells like ham and something baking, doesn't it?"

  "We surely are both imaginative," Nann agreed, "for I also scent a mostappetizing aroma on the air. But who could be cooking? We left Miss Moorein bed and anyway, of course, it is not she."

  They had reached the kitchen door and saw that it was standing open andthat the tempting odor was actually wafting therefrom. Puzzled indeed,they bounded up the steps.

  A surprising sight met their gaze. Miss Jane Moore, dressed in a softlavender gown partly covered with a fresh white apron, turned from thestove to beam upon them; her eyes were twinkling, her cheeks were rosyfrom the excitement and the heat.

  "Aunt Jane! Miss Moore!" the girls cried in astonishment. "Ought you tobe cooking? Are you strong enough?"

  "Of course I am strong enough," was the brisk reply. "Haven't I beenresting for nearly two weeks? I thought probably you girls would behungry after your long walk." Then, as she saw the legal envelopes, sheadded with apparent satisfaction: "Well, they have come at last, havethey? Put them in on my dresser, Dories; then come right back. It is sucha fine day I thought we would take the table out on the sheltered sideporch and have a sort of picnic-party."

  It was hard for the girls to believe that this was the same old woman whohad been so grouchy most of the time since they had known her. Wouldsurprises never cease? The girls were delighted with the plan and carriedthe small kitchen table to the sunny, sheltered side porch and soon hadit set for three.

  When they returned they found the flushed old woman taking a pan ofbiscuits from the oven. How good they looked! Then came baked ham andsweet potatoes, and a brown Betty pudding. The elderly cook seemed togreatly enjoy the girls' surprise and delight. They made her comfortablein an easy willowed chair at one end of the table facing the sea and,when the viands had been served, they ate with great relish. To theiramazement their hostess partook of the entire menu with as evident a zestas their own. Dories could no longer remain silent. "Aunt Jane," sheblurted out, "ought you to eat so heartily after such a long fast? Youhaven't had anything but tea and toast since we came."

  Nann had glanced quickly and inquiringly at the old woman, and thesuspicions she had previously entertained were confirmed by the merryreply: "I'll have to confess that I've been an old fraud." Miss Moore waschuckling again. "Every time you girls went away and I was sure you weregoing to be gone for some time, I got up and had a good meal."

  "But, Aunt Jane," Dories' brow gathered in a puzzled frown, "why did youhave to do that? It would have been a lot more fun all along to have hadour dinners all together like this."

  Miss Moore nodded. "Yes, it would have been, but I'm an odd one. Therewas something I wanted to find out and I took my own queer way of goingabout it."

  "D--did you find it out, Aunt Jane?" Dories asked, almost anxiously.

  "Yes and no," was the enigmatical answer. Then, tantalizingly, sheremarked as she leaned back in her comfortable willow chair, havingfinished her share of the pudding, "This is wonderful weather, isn't it,girls? If it keeps up I won't want to go back next Monday. Perhaps we'llstay a week longer as I had planned when we first came." Then before thegirls could reply, the grey eyes that could be so sharply penetratingturned to scrutinize Dories. "You look much better than you did when wecame. You had a sort of fretful look as though you had a grudge againstlife. Now you actually look eager and interested." Then, after a glanceat Nann, "You are both getting brown as Indians."

  Would Miss Moore never come to the subject that was uppermost in thethoughts of the two girls? If she had written the message telling themthat today they were to know all, why didn't she begin the story, if itwas to be a story?

  How Dories hoped that she was to hear what had become of the fortune shehad always believed should have been her father's. Her own mother hadnever told her anything about it, but she had heard them talking beforeher father died; she had not understood them, but as she grew older sheseemed vaguely to remember that there should have been money fromsomewhere, enough to have kept poverty from their door and more,probably, since her father's Aunt Jane had so much.

  But Miss Moore rose without having satisfied their burning curiosity."Now, girls," she said, "I'll go in and read my letters while you washthe dishes. Later, when the fog drifts in, build a fire on the hearth andI'll tell you a story." Then she left them, going to her own room andclosing the door.

  "I'm so excited that I can hardly carry the dishes without droppingthem," Dories confided to Nann when at last they had returned the tableto its place in the kitchen and were busily washing and drying thedishes. "What do you suppose the story is to be about?"

  "You and your mother and father chiefly, I believe," Nann said withconviction.

  "Aunt Jane's saying that she had a story to tell us proves, doesn't it,that she wrote the messages?"

  "I think so, Dori."

  "I hope the fog will come in early," the younger girl remarked as shehung up the dish-wiper on the line back of the stove.

  "It will. It always does. Now let's go out to the shed and bring in a bigarmful of driftwood. There's one log that I've been saving for somespecial occasion. Surely this is it."

  As Nann had said, the fog came in soon after midafternoon; the girls haddrawn the comfortable willow chair close to the hearth. The wood was inplace and eagerly the girls awaited the coming of their hostess. At lastthe bedroom door opened and Miss Moore, without the apron over herlavender dress, emerged. Although she smiled at them, the discerning Nanndecided that the letters had contained some disappointing news. Dories atonce set fire to the driftwood and a cheerful blaze leaped up. When MissMoore was seated the girls sat on lower chairs close together. Theirfaces told their eager curiosity.

  Glancing from one to the other, their hostess said: "Dori, you and Nannhave been the best of friends for years, I think you wrote me."

  "Oh, yes, Aunt Jane," was the eager reply, "we started in kindergartentogether and we've been in the same classes through first year High, butnow Nann's father has taken her away from me. They are going to live inBoston. And so a favorite dream of ours will never be fulfilled, and thatwas to graduate together."

  "If only your mother would consent to come and live with me, then yourwish would be fulfilled," the old woman began when Dories exclaimed,"Why, Aunt Jane, I didn't even know that you _wanted_ us to live with youin Boston."

  Miss Moore nodded gravely. "But I do and have. I have written your motherrepeatedly, since my dear nephew died, telling her that I would like youthree to make your home with me, but it seems that she cannot forget."

  "Forget what?" Dories leaned forward to inquire. Nann had been right, shewas thinking. The something they were to know did relate to her father'saffairs, she was now sure.

  The old woman seemed not to have heard, for she continued lookingthoughtfully at the fire. "I know that she has forgiven," she said atlast. "Your mother is too noble a woman not to do that, but her pridewill not let her forget." Then, turning toward the girls who sat eachwith a hand tightly clasped in the others, the speaker continued: "I mustbegin at the beginning to make the sad story clear. I loved your father,as I would have loved a son. I brought him up when his parents were gone.The money belonged to my father and he used to say that he would leaveyour father's share in my keeping, as he believed in my judgment. I wasto turn it over to my nephew when I thought best." She was silent amoment, then said: "When
your father was old enough to marry, I wantedhim to choose a girl I had selected, but instead, when he went away tostudy art, he married a school teacher of whom I had never heard. Ibelieved that she was designing and marrying him for his money, and Iwrote him that unless he freed himself from the union I would never givehim one cent. Of course he would not do that, and rightly. Later, in myanger, I turned over to him some oil stock which had proved valueless andtold him that was all he was to have. Then began long, lonely years forme because I never again heard from the nephew whose boyish love had beenthe greatest joy life had ever brought me. I was too stubborn to give himthe money which legally I had the right to withhold from him, and he wasso hurt that he would not ask my forgiveness. But, when I heard that myboy had died, my heart broke, and I knew myself for what I was--aselfish, stubborn old woman who had not deserved love and consideration.Then, but far too late, I tried to redeem myself in the eyes of yourmother. I wrote, begging her to come and bring her two children to myhome. I told her how desolate I had been since my boy, your father, hadleft. Very courteously your mother wrote that, as long as she could sewfor a living for herself and her two children, she would not acceptcharity. Then I conceived the plan of becoming acquainted with you, fortwo reasons: one that I might discover if in any way you resembled yourfather, and the other was that I wanted you to use your influence toinduce your mother to forget, as well as forgive, and to live with me inBoston and make my cheerless mansion of a house into a real home."

  She paused and Dories, seeing that there were tears in the grey eyes,impulsively reached out a hand and took the wrinkled one nearest her.

  "Dear Aunt Jane, how you have suffered." Nann noted with real pleasurethat her friend's first reaction had been pity for the old woman and notrebellion because of the act that had caused her to be brought up inpoverty. "Mother has always said that you meant to be kind, she wasconvinced of that, but she never told me the story. This is the firsttime that I understood what had happened. Truly, Aunt Jane, if you reallywish it, I shall urge Mother to let us all three come and live with you.Selfishly I would love to, because I would be near Nann, if for no otherreason, but I have another reason. I believe my father would wish it.Mother has often told me that, as a boy, he loved you."

  The old woman held the girl's hand in a close clasp and tears unheededfell over her wrinkled cheeks. "But it's too late now," she saiddismally.

  Dories and Nann exchanged surprised glances. "Too late, Aunt Jane?"Dories inquired. "Do you mean that you do not care to have us now?"

  "No, indeed, not that!" The old woman wiped away the tears, then smiledtremulously. "I haven't finished the story as yet. This is the lastchapter, I fear. I ought to be glad for your mother's sake, but O, I havebeen so lonely."

  Then, seeing the intense eagerness in her niece's face, she concludedwith, "I must not keep you in such suspense, my dear. That long legalenvelope brought me news from your father's lawyer. It is news that yourmother has already received, I presume. The stock, which I turned over toyour father years ago, believing it to be worthless, has turned out to beof great value. Your mother will have a larger income than my own, andnow, of course, she will not care to make her home with me."

  "O, Aunt Jane!" To the surprise of both of the others, the girl threw herarms about the old woman's neck and clung to her, sobbing as though ingreat sorrow, but Nann knew that the tears were caused by the suddenshock of the joyful revelation. The old woman actually kissed the girl,and then said: "I expected to be very sad because I cannot do somethingfor you all to prove the deep regret I feel for my unkind action, but,instead, I am glad, for I know that only in this way would your motheracquire the real independence which means happiness for her." With asigh, she continued: "I've lived alone for many years, I suppose I can goon living alone until the end of time." Then she added, a twinkle againappearing in her grey eyes, "and now you know all."

  "O, Aunt Jane, then you _did_ write those messages and leave them for usto find?"

  "I plead guilty," the old woman confessed. "I overheard you and Nannsaying that you wished something mysterious would happen. I had beenwondering when to tell you the story, and I decided to wait until I heardfrom the lawyer. I know you are wondering how Gibralter Strait happenedto give you that last message the very day a letter came telling aboutthe stock. That is very simple. One day when Mr. Strait came for agrocery order, you were all away somewhere. I gave him that last messageand told him to keep it in our box at the office until a letter shouldarrive from my lawyer, then they were to be brought over and that letterwas to be given to you girls." The old woman leaned back in her chair andit was quite evident that her recent emotion had nearly exhausted her.Nann, excusing herself thoughtfully, left the other two alone.

  "Dori," the old woman said tenderly, "as you grow older, don't letcircumstances of any nature make you cold and critical. If I had beenloving and kind when your girl mother married my boy, my life, instead ofbeing bleak and barren, would have been a happy one. No one knows how Ihave grieved; how my unkindness has haunted me."

  Just then Dories thought of her sweet-faced mother who had borne thetrials of poverty so bravely, and again she heard her saying, "The onlyghosts that haunt us are the memories of loving words that might havebeen spoken and loving deeds that might have been done."

  Impulsively the girl leaned over and kissed the wrinkled face. "I loveyou, Aunt Jane," she whispered. "And I shall beg Mother to let us alllive together in your home, if it is still your wish." Then, as MissMoore had risen, seeming suddenly feeble, Dories sprang up and helped herto her room and remained there until the old woman was in her bed.

  When the girl went out to the kitchen where her friend was preparingsupper, she exclaimed, half laughing and half crying: "Nann Sibbett, I'mso brimming full of conflicting emotions, I don't feel at all real. Pinchme, please, and see if I am."

  "Instead I'll give you a hard hug; a congratulatory one. There! Did thatseem real?" Then Nann added in her most sensible, matter-of-fact voice:"Now, wake up, Dori. You mustn't go around in a trance. Of course theonly mystery that _you_ are interested in is solved, and wonderfullysolved, but I'm just as keen as ever to know the secret the old ruin isholding."

  "I'll try to be!" Dories promised, then confessed: "But, honestly, I amnot a bit curious about any mystery, now that my own is solved." A momentlater she asked: "Nann, do you suppose Mother will want me to come homeright away?"

  "Why, I shouldn't think so, Dori," her friend replied. "You always hearfrom your mother on Friday, so wait and see what tomorrow brings."

  The morrow was to hold much of interest for both of the girls.