CHAPTER XVII
SAFE AGAIN
Time passes slowly when one has nothing to do, and although the factthat their situation was equally disagreeable to both should have drawnMartine and Priscilla closely together, they now found even less thanusual to talk about. Yet strangely enough, without blaming the othereach was heaping mental reproaches on herself,--Martine saw her ownfolly in running away from the others, and Priscilla was conscious thatshe had been too easily led.
"We might help time pass by reciting poetry," said Martine.
"Or discussing history," rejoined Priscilla.
"This might be a good time to settle the respective merits of theLoyalists and the Acadians."
"With the tide coming in so fast I should hardly dare get into adiscussion; there'd be no one to help pull us in if we fell out. Butlisten, isn't that some one calling?"
"I believe it is, although the sound doesn't come from above. Don't youhear it?"
"Yes, I do; it's some one calling 'halloo, halloo.' Perhaps--"
"Yes, it may be some one searching for us."
Any doubts that Martine may have had were soon removed by the sight of asmall dory gliding into their field of vision some distance below them.There were two men in the dory, both hatless and in their shirt-sleeves.In an instant both girls were on their feet, waving their handkerchiefs.In the same instant the men in the boat caught sight of them, and one ofthem lifted his oar and flourished it two or three times in the air.
"How will they get here?" asked Martine.
"Oh, probably the water isn't very deep; they can push up part way, andthen wade."
"If they can wade, we might have ventured."
"It would not have been safe for us. See, they are pushing the boat upall the way."
The water, indeed, was deep enough to let the boat come up into thehollow--now filled with water--between the two arms of rock, whereby thetwo girls had climbed to their present position. While the boat wasstill some distance away Priscilla and Martine had recognized theimmaculate Mr. Knight as the man who was steering. Mr. Knight, however,was immaculate no longer; he was hatless and coatless, his hair somewhattumbled, and his face very red from the unwonted exertion.
From the moment of recognizing him until the moment when the side of theboat grazed the ledge was a very short time indeed.
"We thought we'd find you somewhere near here; at least, we hoped so,"said Mr. Knight, looking from one girl to the other as if to decidewhich was the real culprit. "But how in the world did you get here?"
"Walked," replied Martine, laconically; "hadn't time to swim."
"But if you walked why didn't I see you when I looked an hour or twoago? I remember standing above this particular place and calling.Perhaps you weren't here then."
Martine said nothing. If it should be necessary to confess she couldattend to this later. At present she had enough to think about.
"Is Mrs. Redmond worried?" asked Priscilla, anxiously.
"Yes and no," replied Mr. Knight, "though she'll be glad enough to seeyou."
"Must we go in the boat?" Priscilla spoke as if she dreaded theexperiment, and she added, "It looks so very wobbly."
"Oh, that boat, she's as steady as a setting hen," exclaimed Mr.Knight's companion. "Just you look out, though, and don't wet yourfeet."
"I'll go first, Priscilla, and if I survive, why, then you can follow."
But before Martine had attempted to take her place Mr. Knight turned toPriscilla, "Of course, if you would rather not go in the dory we couldwait here until the tide ebbs. I could stay with you while Mr. Sandsrows back to report to Mrs. Redmond. But the boat is perfectly safe, Ican assure you."
"Of course it is perfectly safe," exclaimed Martine, angrily; "I neverheard such a silly idea." But whether she meant to apply "silly" toPriscilla's timidity or to Mr. Knight's suggestion she did not deign toexplain, and the young man, after one curious glance in her direction,did not address her again.
It was but the work of a minute or two to get the girls aboard the dory,and soon they were at a landing-place from which they could reach Mrs.Redmond and Amy.
"You ain't the first people that's got caught in that way on the rocks,"said Mr. Sands as they rowed along, "only generally it's some romanticcouple that rather likes to stay there till the tide goes out. But yourma was afraid that if you was there you might try to wade, and so catchyour death of cold, and besides, she wasn't sure you were anywhere, aslong as Mr. Knight couldn't find you; so when they all seemed soconcerned the only thing was to haul out the dory, though it wouldn'thave hurt you a mite if you'd had to stay."
"I would as soon have stayed," said Martine, coldly; "it was a goodview, and I rather enjoyed sitting there in that little grotto."
"Grotto," Mr. Sands laughed loudly, and Martine fancied that a smileflickered at the corners of Mr. Knight's lips. "Grotto," repeated Mr.Sands. "Well, I never heard that name used before in these parts. Ithought a grotto was foreign, but you've said something now that I won'tforget. Here, Mr. Knight, you help the young ladies out, while I steadythe boat," and in a second the two girls were running up the beach,where Mrs. Redmond and Amy greeted them with open arms.
It was now after sunset, and all were hungry and cold. In aspect theywere wholly unlike the party that had set out from Wolfville thatafternoon. All seemed quiet and subdued,--Martine and Priscilla, becausethey had really been more fatigued by their little adventure than at thetime they had realized; Mrs. Redmond and Amy, because they had been mostanxious at the prolonged absence of the girls, and Mr. Knight--well,perhaps inwardly he was blaming "those Americans" for giving him muchmore trouble than was his due. Whatever his thoughts, however, he madeno criticism, and any perturbation that he may have felt was shown onlyby his silence.
What was most to the point, however, the horses and the driver were ingood spirits, and set out for Wolfville at a fine rate. While the othershad been looking and waiting, man and beast had had food and drink, andthis accounted for their energy.
"Grotto," cried Mr. Sands, as the party drove away, "well, that doesbeat all."
Once on the way back to Wolfville they stopped before a house, after Mr.Knight had had a word with the driver. Then the young man, excusinghimself, went within, returning soon with a small package. This heopened after he had resumed his seat, and distributed to each of theparty a bread and butter sandwich and two or three cookies. "I mighthave brought more," he explained, "but it would be a pity to take awayall your appetite for your supper at Wolfville."
The sandwiches and the cakes seemed to promote conversation, and in theremaining half hour the party was as bright and cheerful as a party ofyoung persons ought to be after a summer excursion. When they reachedthe house Mr. Knight declined the invitation that Mrs. Redmond gave himto stay to tea, though he promised to call on her the next day.
"While we are in Wolfville," said Mrs. Redmond, as he turned away, "wemay not be able to show you how thoroughly we enjoyed the delightfulafternoon you have given us, but if you come to Boston we will do ourbest to make a return."
"I can assure you that the pleasure has been altogether on my side,"responded Mr. Knight.
"And I can assure you," added Martine, who had now fully recovered herspirits, "that Priscilla was an unwilling accomplice of mine thisafternoon, and that you were very good to rescue me as well asher--everything considered."
"Oh, but I can assure you," began Mr. Knight, "that I didn't mean--thatis, I--" and here realizing that the more he tried to say the more hemight blunder, the poor young man backed down the steps with a politebow and a single "good-night."
"Priscilla," said Amy, that evening, as she handed the former her mail,"here's a funny little package for you, half open at one end, and aletter directed in the same handwriting. Excuse my noticing that theletter is post-marked 'Meteghan.'"
"Why shouldn't you?" responded Priscilla. "We all have acquired thehabit of looking at one another's post-marks."
"Open the parcel," cried A
my; "I'm curious to see what it is." Priscillaglanced at Martine, who was deep in a letter from one of herboarding-school friends. Then she cut the string, and, loosening thepaper, handed the package to Amy while she glanced over the Meteghanletter.
"Why, it looks like Yvonne's lace," cried Amy, and at the word "Yvonne"Martine joined the group.
"Why, it is Yvonne's lace," she exclaimed. "How did you get it?"
"I sent for some," replied Priscilla. "I thought that it might help herif I should buy it. I could not buy much, but it has pleased her to sellit. Read her letter."
Tears came into Martine's eyes as she read the simple letter of thanksthat seemed to come straight from the heart of the little French girl."She remembers us all, though she doesn't spell the names just right,and she sends the best love of Uncle Alexandre, Uncle Placide, and auntsMathilde and Marie. Well, we must have made an impression." Then, afterglancing at the letter a second time, Martine continued: "But you are abrick, Priscilla. How did you happen to think of sending for the lace? Ihad forgotten all about it, though I was anxious to help Yvonne."
"She writes a good letter, considering that she sees so dimly;" and Amycalled Martine's attention to the clear, round hand. "The conventsisters have certainly done a great deal for the child."
When all had admired the strip of lace, Priscilla folded it up neatlyand laid it with her letters. She was relieved that Martine had nottaken offence at her writing for it. Though Priscilla had not intendedthis to be a silent reproof to Martine, it had somewhat this effect, fortoo frequently in Martine's life "out of sight" meant "out of mind," andthough she had no desire to break the promises that she had made sofreely when in Meteghan, still, but for Priscilla's reminder she mighthave been long in keeping them. At the same time it is but fair to saythat already without Priscilla's knowledge she had taken steps towardcarrying out the larger plan that she had conceived regarding Yvonne'sfuture.
"Mamma," said Amy, after she had shown Mrs. Redmond Yvonne's letter, "Ihave just had a letter from Julia."
"Ah, that is delightful," said Mrs. Redmond. "I am always so pleased tohear from Julia."
Julia Bourne, the cousin of Amy's friend Brenda,--Mrs. Weston--waslittle older than Amy or the other girls in Brenda's group. Julia, onbeing graduated from Radcliffe, had decided to spend most of her timeand a fair share of her income on a Domestic Science School for girls.
The experiment carried on in the Mansion, a stately West End housebelonging to her former teacher, Miss South, during its two years ofexistence, had proved most successful. The work at the Mansion had beenin the nature of social settlement work, and Amy, with little money togive, had been glad to enroll herself as a voluntary teacher.
But for the Nova Scotia trip Amy would have been one of Julia'sassistants this very summer at Happy Hill. Often, indeed, in the courseof her travels she had thought of the work going on there, and hadindulged in a little self-reproach that she should be spending her ownholidays in idleness. Most persons, even those inclined to be critical,would have said that Amy had really enough work on her hands in the fiveor six hours of tutoring that she tried to give Priscilla every week.
Yet even granting that her time was not sufficiently occupied, there isa kind of idleness that in the end is more beneficial to the individualthan any amount of work. Although Amy had not been in danger, perhaps,of breaking down during the past season, still, Mrs. Redmond realizedthat she had been working up to the limit of her strength, and she hadplanned the Nova Scotia trip in such a way that Amy should be unable towithstand going. That Amy would need all her strength for her senioryear at Wellesley had been Mrs. Redmond's strongest plea. Every day ofthis summer had been a proof to Amy of her mother's wisdom.
"Of course we miss you [wrote Julia], and I am glad to say that no one else can exactly take your place. But I honestly believe that in a certain way you can do almost as much good in Acadia as here; for it will be a great thing to inspire Priscilla with more confidence in herself, and tone down Martine a little.
"Here at Happy Hill we have two or three of the girls who were at the Mansion its first year. We have been able, I am glad to say, to imbue them with some sense of responsibility. Each of them in turn is called housekeeper for a week, and although things are not really altogether in her hands, the effect on her is really the same, and we older people merely act as a check to prevent matters from going too far out of line.
"It is very amusing to see these older girls take charge of the younger, and instruct them in all the details of country life. They have some gardening to do, and they make butter and cheese, and each one is shown how to drive, and is permitted at intervals to drive down to the village. Then they have open-air gymnastics in addition to the very considerable amount of exercise that goes with their housework, and they have just enough study from books every day to prevent their growing altogether rusty.
"Mr. and Mrs. Elton--it doesn't seem quite natural yet to speak of Miss South as Mrs. Elton--are now, I suppose, in Norway. They sent the girls a box of unmounted photographs last week, showing the most picturesque scenery in Greece and Italy, where they were in the early spring. Nora is to be with me part of the summer, and Anstiss Rowe, as perhaps you know, is giving all her time to Happy Hill. Brenda undoubtedly keeps you informed about affairs at Rockley. She is perfectly happy, and altogether different from the Brenda of a year ago.
"When your Acadia days are over, I hope that you will have a week to spare for Happy Hill before Wellesley opens again. With my best regards to your mother and the girls,
"JULIA."
When Amy had finished this letter Mrs. Redmond glanced through it.
"I should like to go up to Happy Hill for at least a week," said Amy.
"It is altogether probable that you can. We shall be at home by thefirst of September. Why, what has become of Martine?"
Amy looked toward the chair where Martine had been sitting a few minutesbefore. It was certainly empty.
"I'll run up to her room;" and, suiting her action to her word, in amoment Amy was knocking at Martine's door.
In answer to a feeble "Come in" she entered, only to find Martine lyingface downward on the bed.
"Why, what is the matter, child?" she asked, affectionately strokingMartine's hair.
"Oh, nothing," came in muffled tones from the prostrate Martine, "onlythis has been such a long day."
"You are tired," responded Amy, "and probably you were more excited thanyou realized when you and Priscilla were lost."
"We weren't lost"--Martine threw considerable spirit into her voice,--"Iknew just where we were."
"But we did not--" Amy, though amused, tried not to show heramusement--"we were rather alarmed, so really my mother and I ought tobe the persons to collapse. Come, Martine, even if you are tired, youmust cheer up, and go to bed."
"'Why, what is the matter, child?' she asked affectionately."]
"It isn't because I'm tired," and Martine's tears flowed afresh, "but Ithought that to-night there would be a letter from my mother. There mustbe a mail in, and I have counted up the time from New York. There oughtto be a letter to-night. I am sure that she's worse."
"Nonsense, child. Probably she does not feel quite well enough to write,and your father has overlooked the mail. You know how apt men are toforget."
So Amy tried to pacify Martine, and at last succeeded in getting her tolook at things more cheerfully. She had never before seen Martine in lowspirits, and she felt quite sure that fatigue, even more thandisappointment, had caused the tears.
"I will admit," she said, "that this has been a trying day, beginningwith--"
"Beginning with Mr. Knight,"--and now Martine was smiling. "Wasn't hefunny, with his 'you Americans,' as if we were some strange species?"
"But in the end don't you think that Mr. Knight did pretty well? I thinkthat he more than redeemed himself by his kind
ness."
"Well, as he is a friend of Balfour Airton's I suppose that I ought notto criticise him. There, don't shake your head, Amy. Yes, I do thinkthat he was very kind--in the end. But the day has been fearfully long.We ought not to have taken that walk this morning."
When at last Martine went to bed Amy sat beside her until she fellasleep. There was a strange mingling of childishness and womanliness inthis little Chicagoan to which Amy could not accustom herself. Herworldly wisdom and grown-up air of womanliness were quite as hard tounderstand as the extreme childishness in which she sometimes indulged.The more equable Priscilla was much easier to comprehend, and yet Amywas not altogether sure that Priscilla, under stress of circumstances,would be the easier to manage.