Kitabı oku: «Elsie's Widowhood», sayfa 13

CHAPTER XXIII

 
"Macbeth. If we should fail —
"Lady M. We fail!
But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And we'll not fail."
 

– Shakespeare.

Sunday morning came and our young friends met at the breakfast table, not in their usual jesting, mirthful mood, but with cheerful gravity of demeanor, suited to the sacredness of the day.

"There is no preaching, no sort of religious service within our reach to-day," Edward remarked.

"Then shall we not have one of our own?" asked Mary. "I have a book of sermons: one might be read aloud; then we can have three prayers and as many hymns as we please; we all sing."

"And we might have a Bible reading also," suggested Ella. "And suppose we take up the International Sunday-school Lesson and study it."

All these propositions were received with favor and eventually carried out.

They did not think it wrong to stroll quietly along the shore, or to sit there watching the play of the billows, and thus they ended their afternoon.

The evening was pleasantly spent in serious talk and the singing of hymns on the front porch, where they could feel the breeze and see the foam-crested waves by the light of a young moon.

They retired early, feeling that they had had an enjoyable, restful day, and rose betimes, full of life and vigor – except Amy; and even she felt equal to a longer stroll than she had yet taken.

The days flew by on swift wings, each bringing its duties and enjoyments with it, and so pleasant was the gay, free life they led that at times they half regretted that it must come to an end.

Yet there were other times when some, if not all of them, anticipated, with real satisfaction, the return to the more serious business of life.

There was a very frequent exchange of visits between their party and the one to which Edward and Violet more properly belonged; sometimes by way of the cars, at others by riding or driving; so that Violet was never many days without sight and speech of her mother and some of the other dear ones at home; and that reconciled her to a longer absence from it.

At length the younger Elsie was persuaded to come and spend a few days with Mary and her party, the mother consenting to spare both daughters for that length of time. The sweet girl's presence added much to the enjoyment of all, especially her sister, for their mutual attachment had always been very strong.

One day there was a large fishing party, composed principally of guests from other houses, which both Elsie and Violet declined to attend; but Vi, fired with a laudable ambition to emulate her cousin Mary's skill in the culinary art, volunteered to get dinner, and have it ready by the time the others returned.

Each one of them offered to stay and assist, but she would not hear of it; laughingly asserting that "she wanted all the honor and glory, and wouldn't have anybody with her but Elsie, who knew nothing about cooking, but would keep her from being 'lone and lorn,' and perhaps help a little in those things which were so easy that even the lads could do them," she concluded, with a merry glance from one to the other.

Edward was not there, some errand having taken him home by the morning train.

"Can you stand that insinuation, Donald?" asked Charlie. "I vote that you and I stay at home to-morrow and get dinner, just to prove our skill in that line."

"Agreed," said Donald; "but what's to be done with the lasses in the meantime? We can't let them go off pleasuring alone."

"Oh, Edward can take care of them all for once; he's to be back by dinner-time to-day, you know, so will be on hand here to-morrow."

"Thank you," said Ella, laughing, and with a mock courtesy, "but we are entirely capable of taking care of ourselves, as perhaps we may prove to you one of these days. But here's the carriage at the gate. Come, Amy, I'll help you in. Let us show these lords of creation that they are of not quite so great importance as they are pleased to imagine."

She ran gayly out, Amy following a little more slowly, with a regretful good-bye to the two who were to remain at home.

The lads hurried after, in season to forestall Ella in assisting Amy into the vehicle, which the former had hastily entered unaided, before they could reach it.

Mary lingered behind a moment to say to Elsie and Violet that she did not in the least care to go, indeed would prefer to stay with them.

"No, no, cousin Mary," they both said, "we would not have you miss the sport, or deprive the rest of the pleasure of your society."

"Besides," added Violet, with a merry look and smile, "if you were here I know very well I should miss the opportunity to distinguish myself as a capable and accomplished cook. So away with you, fair lady! See, the lads are waiting to hand you into the carriage."

"Good-bye then, but don't attempt an elaborate dinner," Mary returned, as she hastened away.

The sisters stood on the little porch watching the departure till the carriage was out of sight.

Just then a boy carrying a large basket opened the gate and came in.

"That's right, you are just in good time," was Vi's greeting. "Please carry them into the kitchen. Have you brought all I ordered?"

"Yes'm; potatoes, corn, beans, tomats, cabbage, lettuce, and young beets. All right fresh and nice."

Violet paid him and he left.

"There, I shall have a sufficient variety of vegetables," she remarked, viewing her purchase with satisfaction.

"O Vi," sighed Elsie, with a look of apprehension, "do you in the least know what you are about?"

"Why of course, you dear old goosie! haven't I watched Cousin Mary's cooking operations for over two weeks? Oh I assure you I'm going to have a fine dinner! There's a chicken all ready for the oven – cousin showed me how to make the stuffing and all that. I've engaged fresh fish and oysters – they'll be coming in directly. I shall make an oyster pie and broil the fish. I mean to make a boiled pudding and sauce for dessert, and have bought nuts, raisins and almonds, oranges, bananas and candies besides, and engaged ice cream and cake."

"Your bill of fare sounds very good, but what if you should fail in the cooking?"

"Oh, no such word as fail for me!" laughed Vi. "I've screwed my courage to the sticking place, and don't intend to fail. Now we must don our big aprons and to work; you'll help me with the vegetables, I know."

"Willingly, if you'll show me how."

Violet felt very wise and important as she gave her older sister the requested instruction, then went bustling about making her pudding and pastry: for she decided to add tarts to her bill of fare, and the oyster pie must have a very nice crust.

But as she proceeded with her preparations she discovered that her knowledge was deficient in regard to many of the details of the business in hand; she did not know exactly how much time to allow for the cooking of each dish – how long it would take the chicken to roast, pie and tarts to bake, pudding and vegetables to boil.

She grew anxious and nervous in her perplexity; there was no one to give her the needed information, the cookery books did not supply it, and in sheer desperation she filled her oven, her pots and kettles as fast as possible, saying to Elsie it would surely be better to have food a little overdone than not sufficiently cooked.

It proved an unfortunate decision, especially as the fishing party were an hour later in returning than had been expected.

Poor Violet was too much mortified to eat when she discovered that there was no sweetness left in the corn, that her potatoes were water-soaked, her oysters tough as leather, the chicken scorched and very much overdone, the fish burnt almost to a cinder, and – oh worst of all! cooked with the scales on. She had forgotten they had any.

Her friends all comforted her, however, taking the blame on themselves. "If they had not been so late, things would not have been so overdone; it was their fault. And the lettuce, the cold-slaw, and bread and butter were all very nice. The tarts too."

But as soon as she tasted them Violet knew she had forgotten the salt in her crust and that it was tough compared to her Cousin Mary's.

And then the pudding! oh why did it turn out so heavy? Ah, she had made it with sour milk and put in no soda.

"Oh what shall I do?" she said despairingly to Mary, who was helping her to dish it up. "There's hardly anything fit to eat, and I know you are all very hungry."

"Indeed, dear little coz, there is a great deal that's fit to eat," Mary said, glancing toward he table on which the last course was set out – except the ice cream, which had not yet been taken out of the freezer.

"Yes, those are nice, but the substantial of the meal – just what are most needed – are all spoiled. Oh what's that?" with a sudden change of tone as a man bearing a large hamper appeared at the open door; "something from mamma, I do believe."

"Yes," said Edward, stepping in after the man as the latter set the hamper down; "and as it's more than an hour past dinner time, I suppose its very well I didn't come empty handed."

"O Ned, Ned, you dear, good fellow!" cried Violet, springing to his side and throwing her arms around his neck.

"Yes, you may well say that!" he returned, laughing, as he gave her a kiss, then put her aside and stooped to open the basket, "for I told mother what you were attempting to-day, and she said 'The poor, dear child! she will surely fail, so I'll send some provisions with you when you go.' And here they are, all of the best, of course, for mamma never does anything by halves," he added, beginning to hand out the viands – a pair of cold roast fowls, a boiled tongue, pickles, jellies, pies and cakes in variety, – Mary and Vi receiving them with exclamations of satisfaction, delight and thankfulness which quickly brought the others upon the scene, just as the bearer of the hamper, who had gone out on setting it down, re-entered with a basket of of beautiful, luscious looking peaches and grapes.

"Hello!" exclaimed Charlie, in high glee, "what's all this? a second dinner?"

"Yes," returned Violet, "my dear, good mother's atonement for her conceited daughter's failure."

"No, no, we don't call it a failure, nor the cook conceited," cried a chorus of voices; "some things are very nice, and others were spoiled by our fault in coming home so late."

"Well, please come back to the table and we'll begin again," said Violet, carrying the fowls into the dining-room, Mary following with the tongue, Elsie and Ella with other edibles.

"Please, some of you, help me carry away dinner number one, to make room for dinner number two," said Vi, replacing the dish containing her unfortunate chicken with the one on which she had put the new arrivals.

Upon that everybody seized one or more of the dishes and hurried back to the kitchen; and so with a great rushing to and fro and amid much laughter and many merry jests they respread the board.

Violet's spirits and appetite had returned, and she joined the others in making a hearty meal.

The next morning was cloudy and cool for the season. All agreed it was just the day for a long stroll inland, and shortly after breakfast they set out in a body – Mary, Ella and Edward leading the van, Donald and Edward's two sisters coming next, Charlie and Amy bringing up the rear.

There seemed to be a tacit understanding that those two were always to be together and no remark was ever made about it, but Charlie always quietly took possession of the fragile little lady, just as if he had entered into bonds to be her care-taker and entertainer, accommodating his pace to hers, which was so much slower than that most natural to the others that they often unintentionally left her far behind.

They presently met Mrs. Perkins, Fred and Susie, who were also starting out for a walk, and the two parties joined their forces.

They passed through the village, and sat down for a little while on some rustic benches under the trees on the river bank, to rest and enjoy the pleasing prospect.

The village lay behind them; before, green slopes dotted here and there with trees standing singly or in groups; then the sparkling river, to the left, beyond the bridge, widening into a lake-like expanse, to the right pouring its waters into the great ocean, on whose broad bosom many ships, steamers and smaller craft could be seen, some near, others far away in the distance.

The surface of the river too was enlivened by a number of small sail-boats slowly moving before the wind, and skiffs that darted hither and thither. On the further bank the scene was diversified by woods and fields, with here and there a farm-house, then the sandy beach bordering the wide blue sea.

"Are you quite tired out, Amy?" Charlie asked after a little.

"Oh no, I'm quite rested," she answered gayly, "and feel able to walk a good deal farther. I am really surprised to find how strong and well I am."

"The sea-shore's the place for you evidently," he said; then as she sprang up nimbly to join the others as they rose and moved on again, "But I don't know that it would be best to keep you here too long; you might grow so strong as to feel capable of dispensing with any help from other folks."

"Which would be very delightful indeed," she returned with an arch look and smile as she accepted his offered arm.

They hastened on after the rest of their party, over a bridge and along the roadside for some distance, then they all struck into a narrow footpath on the farther side of the fence, the young men letting down the bars to give the ladies easy ingress, and followed that through a bit of woods, crossing a little stream by a broken bridge, where again the lads had the pleasure of giving assistance to their companions of the weaker sex; then across some cornfields; making a circuit that brought them back to the river.

The path now ran along its bank, and still pursuing it they came at length to a little inlet where was neither bridge nor boat.

There they stopped and held a consultation. No one wanted to go back by the way they had come, it was too long and roundabout; if they could but cross this inlet they could soon reach one of the life-saving stations on the other side, and there probably find some one who would carry them across the river in a boat, when a short walk along the beach would take them to their temporary homes.

"The water is not deep, I think," said Donald. "I propose that we lads strip off boots and stockings, wade through and carry the ladies over. I will wade across first and try its depth."

He did so, spite of some protests from the more timid of the ladies, and found it hardly knee-deep. All then agreed to his proposition.

"Edward and I will make a chair by clasping hands," he said gayly, "and Fred and Charlie can do likewise if they will, and we will divide the honor of carrying the ladies over dryshod."

Donald had a purpose in selecting Edward as his companion and helper in the undertaking; feeling pretty certain that Elsie and Violet would choose to be carried by their brother, which they did.

"I see through you, young man," Charlie said to Donald in a laughing aside while making ready for the trip, "but I don't care very much, if you leave Miss Fletcher for me."

"All right," returned Donald, "I intended to, for I see which way the wind blows. She's light too, my lad, and will be the better suited to your strength."

"Strength, man! I'm as able to lift and carry as Lieutenant Keith, if I'm not greatly mistaken," Charlie said with pretended wrath, "and to prove it I speak for the carrying of Mrs. Perkins and Miss Neff, who must be a trifle heavier than any of the other ladies."

"All right; but fortunately there isn't one in the party heavy enough to be any great burden to either of us."

So amid a good deal of mirth and laughter and some timidity and shrinking on the part of the younger girls, the short journey was made, and that without mishap or loss.

Then a short, though toilsome walk through the soft yielding sand brought them to the life-saving station, a small two-story frame building standing high on the sandy beach, the restless billows of old ocean tossing and tumbling not many rods away.

They were courteously treated by the brave fellows who make this their abode during eight months of the year, were shown the room on the lower floor where they cook and eat, the two above where they sleep, and also all the apparatus for saving the shipwrecked and any others who may be in danger of drowning within reach of their aid.

Our friends were all greatly interested in looking at these things – the colored lamps and flags for signalling, the life-boat, the breeches-buoy and the life-car – this last especially: it was of metal, shaped like a row-boat, but covered in over the top, except a square opening large enough to admit one passenger at a time, and having a sliding door, the closing of which, after the passengers are in, makes the car completely water-tight.

"How many will it hold?" asked Edward.

"Six or seven grown folks, if they are not very large sized."

"Oh, I should think they would smother!" cried Violet.

"It is only about three or four minutes they'd have to stay in it," said the exhibitor.

Then he showed them the thick, strong rope or hawser on which it runs, and the mortar by means of which they send a line to the distressed vessel with a tally-board attached on which are printed directions – English on one side, French on the other – for the proper securing of the hawser to the wreck.

"The other end is made fast on shore, I suppose?" said Amy inquiringly.

"Yes, Miss."

"And when they have made their end fast and got into the car – "

"Then we pull 'em ashore."

"Not a particularly pleasant ride to take, I imagine," remarked Donald.

"Not so very sir; she's apt to be tossed about pretty roughly by the big waves; turn over several times, liker than not."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"Oh," cried Amy, with a shudder, "I think I'd almost rather drown."

"No, Miss," said the man, "I guess you'd find even that better'n drowning."

Having fully satisfied their curiosity, our friends inquired if there was anybody about there who would take them across the river.

"Yes, sir, I'll row you across, half of you at a time," answered the man, addressing Donald, who had acted as spokesman for the party. "All of you at once would be too big a load for the boat."

It was but a short walk to the river, a few minutes' row across it, and soon they were all on the farther side and walking along the beach toward home.

"Dinner time!" exclaimed Ella, looking at her watch. "What's to be done about it?"

Her question seemed to be addressed to Mary.

"Don't ask me," was the demure reply. "It's none of my concern to-day. Didn't you hear the agreement between Charlie and Don yesterday?"

"There! Mr. Charles Perrine, see the scrape you have got yourself and me into!" exclaimed Donald with a perplexed and rueful look.

"What in the world are we to do!" cried Charlie, stopping short with his hand upon the gate and turning so as to face the others.

"Get in out of the sun for the first thing," replied his cousin.

"Yes, yes, of course!" and he stepped back and held the gate open for the ladies to pass in.

"We are all hungry as bears, I suppose," he said when they were fairly in the house. "Come, Mary, be good and tell us what to do. Shall we go to one of the hotels?"

"No, make the fire, set the table, and grind some coffee," she answered, laughing. "I foresaw that I'd have to come to the rescue, and am prepared. We'll have coffee, stewed oysters, cold fowl left from yesterday, plenty of good bread, rolls and butter, fruits and cake, and it won't take many minutes to get it ready."

"Mary, you're a jewel!" Charlie returned, catching her about the waist and kissing her on both cheeks.

"Begone, you impertinent fellow!" she said laughingly as she released herself and pushed him away. "Even a cousin shouldn't take such liberties."

CHAPTER XXIV

 
"O pilot! 'tis a fearful night,
There's danger on the deep."
 

– Bayly.

Elsie had gone home, and in a few days our little party would break up entirely, Ella and Amy return to their homes, Mary, Donald and Charlie go with Edward and Violet to their mother's cottage to spend some time as Mrs. Travilla's guests.

The Allisons had gone, and there was now abundance of room, though the Conlys, mother and daughter, still lingered, loath to leave the delightful sea breezes.

The quiet life led under her cousin Elsie's roof was not much to Virginia's taste, but nothing better had offered as yet.

Breakfast was over, the morning tasks the girls had set themselves were all done, and the whole four came trooping out upon the porch where the three lads were standing apparently very intent upon some object out at sea.

Edward was looking through a spy-glass, which he handed to Donald just as the girls joined them, saying, "See if you can make out the name."

"Not quite, but she is certainly a yacht," was Donald's reply, after a moment's steady gaze at one of the many vessels within sight; for they had counted more than forty of various sorts and sizes, some outward bound, others coming in. The one which so excited their interest was drawing nearer.

"Let me look," said Mary. "I have the reputation of being very far-sighted."

Donald handed her the glass and pointed out the vessel.

She sighted it, and in another moment said, "Yes, I can read the name – 'The Curlew.'"

"Ah, ha!" cried Edward in a very pleased tone, "I was correct; it is Will Tallis's yacht."

"And really it looks as if he meant to call at Ocean Beach," added Charlie. "Must have heard, Ned, that you and I are here."

"Doubtless," laughed Edward.

"Will Tallis?" repeated Violet inquiringly. "Is he a friend of yours, Edward?"

"Why, yes; have you never heard me speak of him? He's a splendid fellow, one whom I should very willingly introduce to my mother and sisters."

"And has a yacht of his own?"

"Yes; he's very rich, and delights in being on the sea. Inherits the taste, I suppose; his father was a sea-captain. He told us – Charlie and me – that he meant to go yachting this season, and wished he could persuade us to go with him."

"And I, for one, should like nothing better," said Charlie. "Why, Ned, he is coming ashore! See, they have dropped anchor and are putting off from the yacht in a boat! Yes, here they come, pulling straight for this beach. Where's my hat? Let's run down, boys, and meet them as they land!" cried the lad, greatly excited.

Amy had found his hat and silently handed it to him. Edward and Donald seized theirs, and all three rushed to the beach.

"Come, girls," said Ella, "let us go too; why should we miss the fun, if there is to be any?"

They put on their hats, took their sun-umbrellas, and started. They however went only as far as to the sidewalk in front of the Colorado House – so many people were thronging the beach to witness the landing, which was now evidently to take place just below there, and our modest, refined young ladies did not like to be in a crowd.

Mrs. Perkins and Susie joined them. Fred was away; had gone over to New York, expecting to return by the evening train.

"Not much to be seen by us but the waves and the crowd," remarked Ella, a little impatiently. "Nor much to be heard but the murmur of their voices."

"They must have landed, I think," Mrs. Perkins said. "Yes, here they come; our lads, I mean, and a stranger with them. A very nice looking fellow he is, too."

The four young men drew near, and Edward introduced "My friend, Mr. Tallis," to the ladies.

He was very gentlemanly in appearance, and had a pleasant, open countenance, a cordial, hearty manner as he shook hands with the matronly married lady and lifted his hat to the younger ones.

"I am happy to make your acquaintance, ladies," he said, with a genial smile and an admiring glance at Violet, "and have come to ask the pleasure of your company on board my yacht. I am bound for Boston and the coasts of New Hampshire and Maine – a short sea-voyage which I trust you will find enjoyable if I can but persuade you to try it."

Mrs. Perkins declined, with thanks, for herself and Susie. Violet did likewise. The other three hesitated, but finally yielded to the persuasions of the lads.

"O Edward, you will not go, surely?" whispered Violet, drawing her brother aside.

"And why not?" he returned with some impatience.

"Because you haven't mamma's consent, or grandpa's either."

"No, but that's only because they are not here to give it. I'm sure there's nothing objectionable. Will's the very sort of fellow they would approve, the vessel is new and strong, and the captain and crew understand their business."

"But a storm might come up."

"Why, Vi, how silly! there's no appearance of a storm, and we are not intending to go far out to sea. Besides, you might just as well bring that objection to any trip by sea."

"Yes; but if you had mamma's consent it would be different."

"I don't see that. I'd ask it, of course, if I could – and be sure to get it, too, I think – but there isn't time; they don't want to lose this favorable wind and fine weather, and will be off again within an hour. Come, make up your mind to go with us: I want you along, for I think it will be a delightful little voyage."

"Thank you, brother, but I don't wish to go, and couldn't enjoy it if I went without mamma's knowledge and consent: and I do wish you would not go."

"Vi, I never knew you so absurd and unreasonable! But if you will not go along, perhaps I ought to stay to take care of you. I had not thought of that before. Mother left you in my charge, but I am sure she would not want me to lose this pleasure, and it strikes me as a trifle selfish in you to make it necessary for me to do so."

"I don't want you to stay on my account," she said, tears springing to her eyes, "and I don't think you need. I can go home this afternoon by the cars. Probably mamma would not mind my taking so short a ride alone."

"I don't know: but I should enjoy the voyage far more with you along."

"What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Perkins, overhearing a part of the talk. "I will take charge of your sister, Mr. Travilla, if she prefers to stay behind."

"Thank you," Edward responded with brightening countenance. "But – Vi, you will not care to bathe while we are gone?"

"No, Ned, I shall not go in without you, as mamma desired me not."

"And you are willing for me to go?"

"Not quite; I wish you wouldn't; only don't stay to take care of me."

Edward looked a good deal vexed and annoyed.

"Mrs. Perkins," he said, turning to her, "if Fred were here, would you object to his going?"

"No, not at all. I should leave him to follow his own inclination. But," as Edward turned triumphantly to Violet, "I am not meaning to encourage you to go, if your sister thinks your mother might object: all mothers do not see alike, you know."

"Well," he said, "I imagine I am as competent a judge of that as Violet is. I feel well-nigh certain that she would bid me go and enjoy myself. She's not one of the fussy kind of mothers who are afraid to let their children stir out of their sight."

"Then you will go?" said Mr. Tallis.

"Yes," Edward answered, resolutely avoiding Violet's pleading looks.

"I wish we could persuade your sister," Mr. Tallis said, turning to her. "Are you timid about venturing on the sea, Miss Travilla?"

"Not particularly," she said, coloring slightly.

"Then do come with us! the more the merrier, you know, and I should be so happy. I do not feel quite comfortable to carry off all the rest of your party and leave you alone."

The girls joined their entreaties to his, but Violet was firm in her resolution to remain on shore.

Then Mary offered to stay with her, but as Violet felt convinced that it would involve a sacrifice on her cousin's part, she would not consent.

They now all hastened back to the cottage to make such preparations as might be needful. It was not much to any of them, as they expected to return the next day or the one following.

"Edward, can I be of any assistance to you?" Violet asked, going to the door of his room.

"Yes, if you like to pack this valise. Maybe you would do it better than I. I'm alone, so come in."

Violet accepted the invitation, and did the little service quite to his satisfaction.

"You are a nice, handy girl, if I do say it that shouldn't," he remarked laughingly. "But what's the matter?" as he saw that her eyes were full of tears.

"O Edward, don't go away vexed with me!" she exclaimed, putting an arm around his neck. "Suppose a storm should come up, and – and we should never see each other again."

The last words came with an irrepressible burst of tears and sobs. The loving young heart was sore from recent bereavement, and ready to fear for all its dear ones.

"Come, don't fret about possibilities," he said, kindly. "I'm not vexed now, and you must forgive me for calling you selfish."

"You don't think I am?"

"No, indeed! but just the darlingest little sister ever a fellow had. I shouldn't like – if anything should happen – to have you remember that as one of the last things I had said to you. No, I was the selfish one. Now good-bye, and don't worry about me," he said, holding her close, and kissing her several times; "you know, Vi dear, that we are under the same protecting care on sea and on land."

"Yes," she whispered, but with some hesitation, and drawing a deep sigh.

"Ah!" he said, "you doubt whether I shall be taken care of because I'm going without permission. Are you not forgetting that we have always been trained to think and decide for ourselves in all cases where it is right and proper for us to do so? And why should I need permission to go on the sea in a yacht any more than in a fishing-boat? Can you answer me that?" he concluded, half laughingly.

"No," she said, with a slight smile, "and I daresay you are in the right about it."

"Then you won't change your mind ('tis a woman's privilege, you know) and go along? It's not yet too late."

"No, thank you; I do not care to claim all the woman's privileges yet," she answered with playful look and tone.