"Thank you, Mrs. Cook, for your welcome and your invitation; but we"d rather step right out if you don"t mind?"
"Why--sir!"
"No lack of appreciation, believe me. But I"ve a young lady here who is "plumb crazy" over posies and, coming along on the steamer, I promised her a glimpse of some of Yarmouth"s garden "cosy corners." I know none lovelier than your own; and as for your window-plants--I"m afraid if we don"t take her away from temptation she"ll break the gla.s.s and "hook"
one of your "Gloxamens" or "Cyclaglinias" or--"
The lady laughed as merrily as a girl and patted Dorothy"s shoulder with appreciation of the Judge"s joke. Then started to lead the way around the cottage into that inviting greenery behind, when a curious voice hindered her by a pathetic appeal:
"Mamma! Oh! Mamma! Don"t go and leave poor Mum! Quisanthemum must go with Mamma!"
The visitors turned in surprise, toward this querulous "child" as the girls fancied it, though the Judge was already smiling his understanding of the matter. Then there appeared in the doorway a parrot, of wonderful plumage and exaggerated awkwardness; who waddled from side to side, climbed one side of its mistress"s gown to her shoulder and walked head-first down the other, rolling its eyes and emitting the most absurd moans till the two girls were convulsed with laughter.
Then Mrs. Cook held out her wrist, the parrot settled on it, and they proceeded to the garden; the lady explaining:
"This little Miss Chrysanthemum is a spoiled baby. She"s only a few months old, was brought to me by one of my sailor friends, and about rules the house now. Especially when my boy is away."
As she mentioned her "boy" the tiny woman looked rather anxiously into the Judge"s face; and Dorothy noticed that her own was really quite young, despite the white hair and widow"s cap which crowned it. She thought the lady charming, she was so small, so delicate and quaint. Yet there was the real "English color" on her still fair cheek and her eyes were as bright a blue as Molly"s own.
"Son told me you would call. Also, Ephraim wrote me in his last letter; but I had not expected you to-day. I thought you were to be in Yarmouth for a week or more and didn"t antic.i.p.ate so prompt a kindness."
Then opening a little bag which hung fastened to her waist, the cottager drew from it a pair of blunt-pointed scissors and gave them to Dorothy, saying:
"It"s you I see, who has the keenest eyes for flowers. Cut all you want of anything you fancy;" and she swept her hand rather proudly toward the hedges of sweet-peas, just coming into bloom, and the magnificent roses which were earlier in her protected garden than elsewhere in the town.
Had Dorothy known it, this was a rare privilege that had been accorded her. Mrs. Cook loved her flowers as she did her human friends and had a fancy that cutting them was almost as cruel as wounding a person she loved. Until they faded she never cut them for her own enjoyment; and only now and then nerved herself to clip them for the cheer of some ailing neighbor. She was therefore greatly pleased when the girl returned the scissors, after one questioning glance toward Molly, as to her possible disappointment.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cook, but I don"t like to do that. They are so lovely and look so happy in this beautiful garden, I"d hate to. We shall be going, I"m told, and they"ll only be ruined for nothing. But, if you please, I"d like to sit down on these steps and enjoy them. Wouldn"t you, Molly? While your father talks with Mrs. Cook."
The steps belonged to a sort of lean-to, or outdoor kitchen. The little addition was covered with vines in leaf and more sweet-peas clambered about its base. Behind it was the living-room with its open door and table already set for dinner. A savory odor issued thence and set the girls to thinking how remarkably hungry they were, despite their late and substantial breakfast. Also, to wondering if Nova Scotia air was to whet their appet.i.tes this way all the time.
Thought Molly, in especial: "If it is I shall buy me a little bag to wear at my waist, as Auntie does, and fill it with crackers."
Then, thinking of food, she "p.r.i.c.ked up her ears," hearing her hostess inviting:
"But, Judge Breckenridge, I would take it the highest honor if you would share our dinner with us. Of course, it isn"t what I"d have liked to have, had I known. But my husband used to say, "Welcome is the best sauce." Besides, if you"re to leave so soon I"ll be glad to talk over that matter of which I just spoke. I am really so perplexed as to what is best. You"ve been so kind to my brother-in-law, Ephraim, that--"
She interrupted herself to laugh and observe:
"Yet that"s presumptuous of me, too. The fact that you"ve been a kind adviser to one of the family doesn"t form a precedent for all the rest of us. But, business aside, cannot you and your daughters join us?"
"Thank you. We will be most happy; though I must set you right on that point--of relationship. One is my daughter, the blonde, not the flower-lover; and one is my temporarily "adopted." Molly and Dolly their names; and two dearer little maids you"ll travel far to find."
"Aye, they"re fair bonny, and so unlike. Now, sit you down, please, while I dish up; and tell me, if you will, how does the man, Ephraim? He was ever in fear of his health but a better one never lived. After my sister died--the pair of us married brothers--he grew lost and finical.
Nought we could do for him just suited the man. It was the grief, I knew. So, after he"d mumbled along more years than he"d ought, fending for himself, he crossed over to the States and drifted south to Richmond and you. "Twas a sad pity he"d neither son nor daughter to cheer him in his widower life, but so was his Providence. Mine has been better. Son is my hope and--and my anxiety. He"s not found his right niche yet, poor lad. There"s a love of the sea in him, like his sailor father; but he"s never got over that tragedy of his father"s death."
"Where did that happen, Mrs. Cook? Ephraim told me he was drowned,"
asked the visitor, sympathetically.
"Off Pollock Rip Shoals. A bad and fearsome place that, where many an honest fellow has sunk to his last sleep." She dashed a tear from her eye, and laid her hand for an instant upon her widow"s cap. Then she went on more cheerfully, as if time had taught her resignation: "But that"s a gone-by. Son"s future isn"t. It"s laid upon me by the Lord to be both father and mother to the boy and I must study what"s for _his_ best, not mine. Ephraim wrote I was to consult you who are a Judge and wise. He said in his letter that he hadn"t been a sort of general-utility-man in your office thus long without knowing it wasn"t your best paying clients that got your best advice. That, wrote Ephraim, came out of your heart for the widows and orphans. We"re that, son and I, and--What a garrulous creature I am!"
All the time the little woman had been talking she had also been preparing for the meal; and it now being ready to serve she stepped to the rear door, opening on the place where the girls were sitting, and announced:
"Our finnan haddie and greens are ready, young ladies, if you will come and partake of it. Also, lest you be disappointed, I"ll say that there"s a "John"s Delight" in the "steamer," and a dish of the best apples in the Province for the sweeties. Eh? What, my dear?"
To Dorothy"s utter amazement Molly was doing a very rude thing. She had risen and made her very prettiest courtesy, but had supplemented this act of respect by the pet.i.tion:
"Please, Mrs. Cook, may we have ours out here, on these steps?"
"Why, Molly!" cried her chum, in reproof. "The idea of giving all that trouble!"
"No trouble whatever, but a pleasure," replied the hostess, although she, also, was surprised.
Molly wheeled upon Dorothy, demanding:
"Wouldn"t you like it here? Could you find a lovelier place to eat in?
As for making trouble, I don"t want to do that. I--If Mrs. Cook will just put it on one plate I"ll fetch it here for us both. It would be like a picnic in a garden; and you could stay here and--and watch."
"Watch? What am I to watch, except these beautiful flowers?" asked Dolly, even further surprised.
Fortunately for Molly her father had not overheard her odd request or she would have received reproof far more effectual than Dorothy"s. Also, Mrs. Cook was hospitality itself, and this meant wishing her guests to enjoy themselves after the manner they liked best.
As swiftly as either of the girls could have moved, she was back in the pleasant living-room, arranging a tray with a portion of the palatable dinner she had provided; saying in response to the Judge"s inquiring expression:
"We thought it would be a fine thing, and one the la.s.sies will long remember, to have their Bluenose dinner in a Bluenose garden. For all their lives long they can think of this summer day and my greenery yon; and, maybe, too, of the first time they ever ate "finnan haddie" and "John"s Delight." More than that, it will give us the freedom of speech with son, as it wouldn"t were they sitting by. He"s aye shy, is my laddie."
Then she carried out a little table, set it beside the steps and placed the tray thereon. After which she "Begged pardon!" and lifted up her gentle voice in an appeal that sounded almost pathetic in its entreaty.
"Son! Dear son Melvin! Come now to dinner with your mother! Son! SON!"
The last word was spoken in a tone he rarely disobeyed, and low-toned though it was, it was so distinctly uttered that people pa.s.sing on the street beyond heard it. So also must he have heard who was summoned, if he was anywhere upon those premises--as he had been when these guests arrived.
However, he did not appear; and Mrs. Cook and the Judge sat down alone, while "Son" for whom that "home dinner" had been specially prepared was "fair famished" for want of it.
Out upon the steps of that lattice-covered, vine-enwrapped summer-house, the two girls enjoyed their dinner greatly. In particular did mistress Molly. Her eyes sparkled, her dimples came and went, her smiles almost interfered with her eating, and her whole behavior was so peculiar that Dorothy stared. She was puzzled and began to be slightly disgusted, and at last remarked:
"Why, honey, I never saw you get so much--so much fun out of your food.
I"ve heard about gourmands. I think I can guess now what they are and act like. Hark! What"s that noise? Kind of a crackle, as if a cat or something was overhead among those vines. I hope it isn"t. Cats love fish. I always have to shut up Lady Rosalind when Mother Martha has it for dinner. Isn"t "finnan haddie" a queer name?"
"Yes. I"ve heard Papa tell of it before. It"s haddock smoked, some sort of queer way. But this is nice--My! How nice this is! Umm, umm, umm!"
giggled Molly, as if she found something most amusing in the food she smacked her lips over in such a very strange manner.
"Well, Molly Breckenridge, one thing I can say for you. That is: it"s a good thing Miss Rhinelander isn"t here to see you now. You--you act like a little pig. Excuse me, but you really do."
"Cats do like fish. Maybe it"s a cat. Let"s call it a cat, anyway,"
answered Molly, in no wise offended by her chum"s plain speech.
Then lifting her voice she began to call: "Kitty! Kitty!
Kitty--kitty--kitty--kitty--kitty--come!" as fast as she could speak.
Just then Mrs. Cook came out to them to remove their plates and bring them generous portions of "John"s Delight," a dessert which Molly declared was "first cousin to a Christmas plum pudding," and over which she was tempted to smack her lips in earnest, not pretence. A momentary soberness touched her merry face, however, when the hostess observed with keen regret: