He had first deposited the trunks in the baggage-room and there was nothing to keep him longer; so with another whimsical glance at Melvin, who had sauntered behind them, he remarked:
"Right this way to the fishin"-grounds! "Stinks a little but nothin" to hurt!""
Then in the fatherly fashion which almost every man she met adopted toward her, he held out his hand to Dorothy C. and led her back over the pier and around to the broad field where numbers of men were salting and piling the haddock and cod they had caught. The fish were piled in circles or wheel-like heaps, after they were sufficiently dried; and the fresher ones were spread upon long frames to "cure." It was a great industry in that locality and one so interesting to Dorothy that she wanted to linger and watch the toilers despite the decidedly "fishy"
odor which filled the air.
But Joel said that he must leave them then and, after pointing with his whip to a gra.s.sy plain beyond the fishing-grounds, advised:
"Best step right over to the Battery, Sissy, now you"re so nigh it. I"ve learned in my life that things don"t happen twice alike. Maybe you won"t be just here again in such terr"ble agreeable company--" and he playfully touched Melvin on the shoulder--"and best improve it. And, Sissy, strikes me you"re real likely. Sort of a common sense sort of little creetur without so many airs as some the girl-towerists put on.
If so be "t you stop a spell in Digby just tip me the wink and I"ll haul you with any load I happen to have on my "Mobile." Or, if so be we never meet again on earth, be sure, little Sissy, "t you meet me in Heaven.
Good-by, till then."
Off he went and left Dorothy standing looking after him with something very like tears in her brown eyes. Such a quaint figure he looked in his long blue smock, his worn hat pushed to the back of his head, his sandy beard sweeping his breast; jogging beside his beloved team, doing his duty simply as he found it "in that state of life to which it had pleased G.o.d to call him."
"He"s a very religious man, Joel Snackenberg, and never loses a chance to "pa.s.s the word." My mother sets great store by him and I must write her about our meeting him. Shall we go to the Battery or back to the hotel? Your friends don"t--aren"t anywhere in sight, so I suppose they"ve gone there," remarked Melvin.
"Then we ought. Indeed, I feel afraid we"ve stayed too long; and yet I can"t be sorry, since we"ve met that dear old man."
Melvin had promptly recovered his "glibness" upon the departure of the teamster; and though he looked at her in some surprise he answered:
"I don"t believe many girls would call him "dear." I shouldn"t have thought of doing so myself. That Molly wouldn"t, I know; but you have a way of making folks--folks forget themselves and show their best sides to you, so I guess. Anyhow, I never talked so much to any girl before, and you"re the only one in all that crowd I don"t feel shy of. Even that boy--Hmm."
"Thank you. That"s the nicest thing I ever had said to me. And don"t you think that life--just the mere living--is perfectly grand? All the time meeting new people and finding out new, beautiful things about them?
Like Mr. Snackenberg asking me to meet him in Heaven. It was certainly an odd thing to say, it startled me, but it was beautiful--beautiful.
Now--do you know the road home?"
"Sure. We"ll be there in five minutes."
"All right. Lead the way. And say, Melvin Cook, do one more nice thing, please. Forgive my darling Molly for the prank she played on you and be the same friendly way to her you"ve been to me."
"Well, I"ll try. But I don"t promise I"ll succeed."
They hurried back over the main street of the town to their inn, past the postoffice where a throng of tourists were still waiting for possible mail, past the little shops with their tempting display of "notions" representative of the locality, until they reached one window in which some silverware was exposed for sale.
Something within caught Melvin"s eye, and he laughed:
"Look there, miss."
"Dorothy, please!"
"Look there, Dorothy! There"s your "Digby chicken" with a vengeance!"
and he pointed toward some trinkets the dealer was exhibiting to customers within. Among the articles a lot of tiny silver fish, labeled as he had said, and made in some way with a spring so that they wriggled from the tip of a pin, or guard, in typical fish-fashion.
"Oh! aren"t they cute! How I would like to buy one! Do you suppose they cost very much?" cried Dorothy, delighted.
"I"ll ask," he said and did; and returning from the interior announced: "Fifty cents for the smallest one, seventy-five for the others."
She sighed and her face fell. "Might as well be seventy-five dollars, so far as I"m concerned. I have exactly five cents, and I shouldn"t have had that only I found it left over in my jacket pocket. You see, once I had five dollars. How much is that in Nova Scotia money?"
"Just the same. Five dollars."
"Well, come on. I mustn"t stand and "covet," but I would so love to have that for Alfaretta. I promised to bring her something home and that would please her to death!"
"Good thing she isn"t to have it then!" he returned.
Dorothy laughed. "Course. I don"t mean that. I"m always getting reproved for "extravagant language." Miss Rhinelander says it"s almost as bad as extravagant--umm, doing. You know what I mean. Listen. I"ll tell you how I lost it, but we must hurry. I smell dinners in the houses we pa.s.s and I reckon it"s mighty late."
She narrated the story of her loss and her New York experiences in a few graphic sentences; and had only concluded when they reached the hotel piazza, bordering the street, and saw their whole party sitting there waiting the dinner summons. The faces of the elders all looked a little stern, even that of the genial Judge himself; and Molly promptly voiced the thoughts of the company when she demanded:
"Well, I should like to know where you have been! We were afraid something had happened, and I think it"s mean, real mean I say, to scare people who are on a holiday. Dorothy, child, where have you been?"
"Ox-omobiling," answered poor Dorothy, meekly, and feeling as if she were confessing a positive crime.
"W-h-a-t?" gasped Molly amazed.
"Ox-omobiling. I didn"t mean--"
"What in the world is that? Did you do it with that boy? Is he--where--what--do tell and not plague me so."
"No. I did it with the man who--" Here culprit Dolly looked up and caught the stern, questioning gaze of Mrs. Ebenezer Stark, and her wits fled. "With Joel, and I"m to meet him in--in Heaven--right away."
Utter silence greeted this strange answer, part of which had been made to Miss Greatorex"s austere gesture. This signified on the lady"s part that her ward was late and hindering the meal and was so understood by the frightened girl. She looked around for Melvin to corroborate her statement but he had vanished. Having escorted her into sight of her friends he considered his duty done and disappeared.
"Dorothy! You"ve been having adventures, I see, and have got things a trifle "mixed." Best say no more now, till we all get over our dinner-crossness and then tell us the whole story. Since you are safely back no real harm is done; and, friends, shall we go in to table? The second bell has rung," asked Mrs. Hungerford, smiling yet secretly annoyed by the delay Dorothy"s absence had caused.
The Judge had received more letters from his "Boys" and even more urgent ones. That meant cutting short their stay in every town they visited; even omitting some desirable places from their list. It had been decided that they must leave Digby on Monday, the next day but one, and they wished to utilize every moment of the time between in visiting its most attractive points.
"Now, we"ll take that ride. I was going to get Melvin to drive one small rig with the young folks and I would drive another surrey with us elders. He"s taken himself off, though, so I"ll just order a buckboard that will hold us all," said the Judge, when they had rather hastily finished their meal.
So they did, and presently the four-seated wagon with its four horses and capable driver tooled up to the entrance and the party entered it.
All but Monty Stark. Much to his mother"s annoyance and regret, that young gentleman firmly objected to the trip.
"I don"t want to go. I hate driving. I don"t care a rap for all the lighthouses or Bear Rivers in the world. I"d rather stay right here and watch the fishermen. I never had such a chance to see them so close at hand and--I--do--not want--to go."
"Montmorency, darling! Don"t turn nasty and spoil all poor Mamma"s pleasure, don"t. I can"t see what"s the matter with you, dear? You have been positively disagreeable ever since we took that walk. Did you get too tired, lovey? Is Mamma"s baby boy ill?"
"Oh! Mamma, please! I _shall_ be ill if you don"t quit molly-coddling me, as if I were an infant in arms."
They were speaking apart and in low tones, so that she caught but the word "Molly" and instantly inquired:
"Is it that girl, dearest? Has she been behaving badly to you? You mustn"t mind her sharp tongue, she"s only a--a Breckenridge!"
"Yes, she has been behaving outrageously. She"s made me feel as cheap as two cents. Just because I couldn"t think of any remarkably funny thing to do in this horrid old town--Oh! go on, and let me be. I"m not mad with you, Mamma, but I shan"t go on that ride and be perched on a seat with either of those wretched girls, nor any old woman either, for the whole afternoon. Do go--they"re waiting, and they"ll wish no Starks had ever been born. I guess they wish it already."
Perforce, she had to go; but it wasn"t a happy drive for her. If her adored Monty was disgruntled over anything she felt the world a gloomy place. She did exert herself to be agreeable to the Judge, who sat beside her, yielding his place on the driver"s seat to Molly, whose manner was almost as "crisp" as Montmorency"s own. But she would rather have stayed behind to look after her son; and had she known what was to happen on that sunshiny afternoon she would have been even more sorry that she had not followed her inclination.
However, at that moment there was no cloud upon the day; and no sooner had the buckboard disappeared from sight than Montmorency Vavasour-Stark performed a sort of jig on the hotel verandah, threw up his cap, gave a loud Brentnor "yell" and dashed up the stairs to his room as fast as his short fat legs could move. Thence he soon reappeared, clad in his "athletics"--of which a broad-striped blue-and-white sweater attracted much attention.