Now, master, you"re getting your mouth in the proper shape to talk business--but don"t you do it. n.o.body should talk business when he"s expecting a moonrise. Not that I like talking business at any time."
"Unfortunately it has to be talked of sometimes, Mr. Armstrong," I said.
"Yes, it seems to be a necessary evil, master," he acknowledged. "But I know what business you"ve come upon, and we can settle it in five minutes after the moon"s well up. I"ll just agree to everything you and the other two trustees want. Lord knows why they ever put me on the school board. Maybe it"s because I"m so ornamental. They wanted one good-looking man, I reckon."
His low chuckle, so full of mirth and so free from malice, was infectious. I laughed also, as I sat down in the hop-vine arbour.
"Now, you needn"t talk if you don"t want to," he said. "And I won"t.
We"ll just sit here, sociable like, and if we think of anything worth while to say we"ll say it. Otherwise, not. If you can sit in silence with a person for half an hour and feel comfortable, you and that person can be friends. If you can"t, friends you"ll never be, and you needn"t waste time in trying."
Abel and I pa.s.sed successfully the test of silence that evening in the hop-vine arbour. I was strangely content to sit and think--something I had not cared to do lately. A peace, long unknown to my stormy soul, seemed hovering near it. The garden was steeped in it; old Abel"s personality radiated it. I looked about me and wondered whence came the charm of that tangled, unworldly spot.
"Nice and far from the market-place isn"t it?" asked Abel suddenly, as if he had heard my unasked question. "No buying and selling and getting gain here. Nothing was ever sold out of _this_ garden. Tamzine has her vegetable plot over yonder, but what we don"t eat we give away. Geordie Marr down the harbour has a big garden like this and he sells heaps of flowers and fruit and vegetables to the hotel folks. He thinks I"m an awful fool because I won"t do the same. Well, he gets money out of his garden and I get happiness out of mine. That"s the difference. S"posing I could make more money--what then? I"d only be taking it from people that needed it more. There"s enough for Tamzine and me. As for Geordie Marr, there isn"t a more unhappy creature on G.o.d"s earth--he"s always stewing in a broth of trouble, poor man. O"
course, he brews up most of it for himself, but I reckon that doesn"t make it any easier to bear. Ever sit in a hop-vine arbour before, master?"
I was to grow used to Abel"s abrupt change of subject. I answered that I never had.
"Great place for dreaming," said Abel complacently. "Being young, no doubt, you dream a-plenty."
I answered hotly and bitterly that I had done with dreams.
"No, you haven"t," said Abel meditatively. "You may _think_ you have.
What then? First thing you know you"ll be dreaming again--thank the Lord for it. I ain"t going to ask you what"s soured you on dreaming just now. After awhile you"ll begin again, especially if you come to this garden as much as I hope you will. It"s chockful of dreams--_any_ kind of dreams. You take your choice. Now, _I_ favour dreams of adventures, if you"ll believe it. I"m sixty-one and I never do anything rasher than go out cod-fishing on a fine day, but I still l.u.s.t after adventures. Then I dream I"m an awful fellow--blood-thirsty."
I burst out laughing. Perhaps laughter was somewhat rare in that old garden. Tamzine, who was weeding at the far end, lifted her head in a startled fashion and walked past us into the house. She did not look at us or speak to us. She was reputed to be abnormally shy. She was very stout and wore a dress of bright red-and-white striped material.
Her face was round and blank, but her reddish hair was abundant and beautiful. A huge, orange-coloured cat was at her heels; as she pa.s.sed us he bounded over to the arbour and sprang up on Abel"s knee. He was a gorgeous brute, with vivid green eyes, and immense white double paws.
"Captain Kidd, Mr. Woodley." He introduced us as seriously as if the cat had been a human being. Neither Captain Kidd nor I responded very enthusiastically.
"You don"t like cats, I reckon, master," said Abel, stroking the Captain"s velvet back. "I don"t blame you. I was never fond of them myself until I found the Captain. I saved his life and when you"ve saved a creature"s life you"re bound to love it. It"s next thing to giving it life. There are some terrible thoughtless people in the world, master. Some of those city folks who have summer homes down the harbour are so thoughtless that they"re cruel. It"s the worst kind of cruelty, I think--the thoughtless kind. You can"t cope with it. They keep cats there in the summer and feed them and pet them and doll them up with ribbons and collars; and then in the fall they go off and leave them to starve or freeze. It makes my blood boil, master."
"One day last winter I found a poor old mother cat dead on the sh.o.r.e, lying against the skin and bone bodies of her three little kittens.
She had died trying to shelter them. She had her poor stiff claws around them. Master, I cried. Then I swore. Then I carried those poor little kittens home and fed "hem up and found good homes for them. I know the woman who left the cat. When she comes back this summer I"m going to go down and tell her my opinion of her. It"ll be rank meddling, but, lord, how I love meddling in a good cause."
"Was Captain Kidd one of the forsaken?" I asked.
"Yes. I found him one bitter cold day in winter caught in the branches of a tree by his darn-fool ribbon collar. He was almost starving. Lord, if you could have seen his eyes! He was nothing but a kitten, and he"d got his living somehow since he"d been left till he got hung up. When I loosed him he gave my hand a pitiful swipe with his little red tongue. He wasn"t the prosperous free-booter you behold now. He was meek as Moses. That was nine years ago. His life has been long in the land for a cat. He"s a good old pal, the Captain is."
"I should have expected you to have a dog," I said.
Abel shook his head.
"I had a dog once. I cared so much for him that when he died I couldn"t bear the thought of ever getting another in his place. He was a _friend_--you understand? The Captain"s only a pal. I"m fond of the Captain--all the fonder because of the spice of deviltry there is in all cats. But I _loved_ my dog. There isn"t any devil in a good dog.
That"s why they"re more lovable than cats--but I"m darned if they"re as interesting."
I laughed as I rose regretfully.
"Must you go, master? And we haven"t talked any business after all. I reckon it"s that stove matter you"ve come about. It"s like those two fool trustees to start up a stove sputter in spring. It"s a wonder they didn"t leave it till dog-days and begin then."
"They merely wished me to ask you if you approved of putting in a new stove."
"Tell them to put in a new stove--any kind of a new stove--and be hanged to them," rejoined Abel. "As for you, master, you"re welcome to this garden any time. If you"re tired or lonely, or too ambitious or angry, come here and sit awhile, master. Do you think any man could keep mad if he sat and looked into the heart of a pansy for ten minutes? When you feel like talking, I"ll talk, and when you feel like thinking, I"ll let you. I"m a great hand to leave folks alone."
"I think I"ll come often," I said, "perhaps too often."
"Not likely, master--not likely--not after we"ve watched a moonrise contentedly together. It"s as good a test of compatibility as any I know. You"re young and I"m old, but our souls are about the same age, I reckon, and we"ll find lots to say to each other. Are you going straight home from here?"
"Yes."
"Then I"m going to bother you to stop for a moment at Mary Bascom"s and give her a bouquet of my white lilacs. She loves "em and I"m not going to wait till she"s dead to send her flowers."
"She"s very ill just now, isn"t she?"
"She"s got the Bascom consumption. That means she may die in a month, like her brother, or linger on for twenty years, like her father. But long or short, white lilac in spring is sweet, and I"m sending her a fresh bunch every day while it lasts. It"s a rare night, master. I envy you your walk home in the moonlight along that sh.o.r.e."
"Better come part of the way with me," I suggested.
"No." Abel glanced at the house. "Tamzine never likes to be alone o"
nights. So I take my moonlight walks in the garden. The moon"s a great friend of mine, master. I"ve loved her ever since I can remember. When I was a little lad of eight I fell asleep in the garden one evening and wasn"t missed. I woke up alone in the night and I was most scared to death, master. Lord, what shadows and queer noises there were! I darsn"t move. I just sat there quaking, poor small mite. Then all at once I saw the moon looking down at me through the pine boughs, just like an old friend. I was comforted right off. Got up and walked to the house as brave as a lion, looking at her. Goodnight, master. Tell Mary the lilacs"ll last another week yet."
From that night Abel and I were cronies. We walked and talked and kept silence and fished cod together. Stillwater people thought it very strange that I should prefer his society to that of the young fellows of my own age. Mrs. Campbell was quite worried over it, and opined that there had always been something queer about me. "Birds of a feather."
I loved that old garden by the harbour sh.o.r.e. Even Abel himself, I think, could hardly have felt a deeper affection for it. When its gate closed behind me it shut out the world and my corroding memories and discontents. In its peace my soul emptied itself of the bitterness which had been filling and spoiling it, and grew normal and healthy again, aided thereto by Abel"s wise words. He never preached, but he radiated courage and endurance and a frank acceptance of the hard things of life, as well as a cordial welcome of its pleasant things.
He was the sanest soul I ever met. He neither minimized ill nor exaggerated good, but he held that we should never be controlled by either. Pain should not depress us unduly, nor pleasure lure us into forgetfulness and sloth. All unknowingly he made me realize that I had been a bit of a coward and a shirker. I began to understand that my personal woes were not the most important things in the universe, even to myself. In short, Abel taught me to laugh again; and when a man can laugh wholesomely things are not going too badly with him.
That old garden was always such a cheery place. Even when the east wind sang in minor and the waves on the gray sh.o.r.e were sad, hints of sunshine seemed to be lurking all about it. Perhaps this was because there were so many yellow flowers in it. Tamzine liked yellow flowers.
Captain Kidd, too, always paraded it in panoply of gold. He was so large and effulgent that one hardly missed the sun. Considering his presence I wondered that the garden was always so full of singing birds. But the Captain never meddled with them. Probably he understood that his master would not have tolerated it for a moment. So there was always a song or a chirp somewhere. Overhead flew the gulls and the cranes. The wind in the pines always made a glad salutation. Abel and I paced the walks, in high converse on matters beyond the ken of cat or king.
"I liked to ponder on all problems, though I can never solve them,"
Abel used to say. "My father held that we should never talk of things we couldn"t understand. But, lord, master, if we didn"t the subjects for conversation would be mighty few. I reckon the G.o.ds laugh many a time to hear us, but what matter? So long as we remember that we"re only men, and don"t take to fancying ourselves G.o.ds, really knowing good and evil, I reckon our discussions won"t do us or anyone much harm. So we"ll have another whack at the origin of evil this evening, master."
Tamzine forgot to be shy with me at last, and gave me a broad smile of welcome every time I came. But she rarely spoke to me. She spent all her spare time weeding the garden, which she loved as well as Abel did. She was addicted to bright colours and always wore wrappers of very gorgeous print. She worshipped Abel and his word was a law unto her.
"I am very thankful Tamzine is so well," said Abel one evening as we watched the sunset. The day had begun sombrely in gray cloud and mist, but it ended in a pomp of scarlet and gold. "There was a time when she wasn"t, master--you"ve heard? But for years now she has been quite able to look after herself. And so, if I fare forth on the last great adventure some of these days Tamzine will not be left helpless."
"She is ten years older than you. It is likely she will go before you," I said.
Abel shook his head and stroked his smart beard. I always suspected that beard of being Abel"s last surviving vanity. It was always so carefully groomed, while I had no evidence that he ever combed his grizzled mop of hair.
"No, Tamzine will outlive me. She"s got the Armstrong heart. I have the Marwood heart--my mother was a Marwood. We don"t live to be old, and we go quick and easy. I"m glad of it. I don"t think I"m a coward, master, but the thought of a lingering death gives me a queer sick feeling of horror. There, I"m not going to say any more about it. I just mentioned it so that some day when you hear that old Abel Armstrong has been found dead, you won"t feel sorry. You"ll remember I wanted it that way. Not that I"m tired of life either. It"s very pleasant, what with my garden and Captain Kidd and the harbour out there. But it"s a trifle monotonous at times and death will be something of a change, master. I"m real curious about it."
"I hate the thought of death," I said gloomily.
"Oh, you"re young. The young always do. Death grows friendlier as we grow older. Not that one of us really wants to die, though, master.
Tennyson spoke truth when he said that. There"s old Mrs. Warner at the Channel Head. She"s had heaps of trouble all her life, poor soul, and she"s lost almost everyone she cared about. She"s always saying that she"ll be glad when her time comes, and she doesn"t want to live any longer in this vale of tears. But when she takes a sick spell, lord, what a fuss she makes, master! Doctors from town and a trained nurse and enough medicine to kill a dog! Life may be a vale of tears, all right, master, but there are some folks who enjoy weeping, I reckon."
Summer pa.s.sed through the garden with her procession of roses and lilies and hollyhocks and golden glow. The golden glow was particularly fine that year. There was a great bank of it at the lower end of the garden, like a huge billow of sunshine. Tamzine revelled in it, but Abel liked more subtly-tinted flowers. There was a certain dark wine-hued hollyhock which was a favourite with him. He would sit for hours looking steadfastly into one of its shallow satin cups. I found him so one afternoon in the hop-vine arbour.
"This colour always has a soothing effect on me," he explained.