CHAPTER XXII
FINDING COUSINS
In the end it had been much better for Priscilla if she had at onceretraced her steps. Instead, while Amy still had her back to her, whileMartine stood with her finger on her lips, Priscilla, with a rapid stepthat was almost a stride, walked farther away from them. Turning firstone corner and then another, she indulged herself in her unreasonableannoyance with Amy and Martine. For a minute or two she continued towalk briskly, wondering all the time if the others would catch up withher. At length, when her curiosity overcame her pride, she did turnaround, only to discover that her friends were nowhere in sight.
"I shouldn't think Amy would have acted so," she said to herself. "Ofcourse I can't expect much from Martine, but Amy is different."
Yet if any one else had put the question to Priscilla she would havefound it hard to say wherein Martine was at fault. It was only that inthat fleeting glance she had gained the impression that the two weretrying to hold some secret from her.
Priscilla had not walked very far when another turn brought her in frontof a small wooden building that reminded her at once of a child's toy.
"Is it a school, or a church?" she wondered, and she glanced up at thelittle steeple.
"Hello, Miss Denman;" and Priscilla, lowering her gaze from the steeple,saw in front of her Martine's brother, Lucian Stratford.
"I didn't expect to see you here by yourself," continued Lucian. "Ithought that you girls were off somewhere together."
"We were," replied Priscilla, "but I just thought I would--do a littlesightseeing alone."
"Well, I don't blame you," rejoined Lucian; "it's sometimes so hard toget Martine to take an interest in things. It used to be just so inEurope. We could never depend on her, so I don't blame you for keepingby yourself."
Priscilla made no reply. She really had no explanation.
"This is a funny little church, isn't it?" continued Lucian. "Fritz andI were over here the other day. Some one had told him about it. It's alittle Dutch church, and almost as old as the city itself. It was builtfor the Lutherans, for in the beginning there were a lot of Germansettlers here in Halifax."
"Thank you," said Priscilla. "You are as good as a guide-book; one neverexpects a boy to take an interest in such things."
"I can't say that I do generally, only you remember that foggy afternoonwhen you girls were all so busy writing letters? Well, Fritz and I gottired of staying indoors browsing over books, so we started out. We wentdown to the great dry dock--though I don't suppose that you girls wouldcare for that,--and we had a chance to go into old St. Paul's,--that'sabout as old as the city too, and makes you think of one of the queer,dingy London churches. It has any number of interesting tablets andmemorials, and we planned to take you girls there before we go, and thenwalking about we just chanced on this little toy building. But I've gota suggestion for to-day," concluded Lucian. "You see, it's Saturday, andone of the market days, so if you'd like to go, I'd be happy to take youdown there. What do you say?"
"Why, yes, of course I'd like it. You are very kind to think of it."Priscilla remembered that Amy had spoken of going to the market, and fora moment she regretted her absence.
Lucian Stratford, however, proved a surprisingly agreeable guide, andeven before they had reached the Green Market Priscilla was quiteashamed of the little prejudice that she had once held against him.
"It's an old custom," Lucian explained, as the two stood in the middleof the street, "for the country people to drive in with their produce."
The market was in Post Office Square, and almost every foot of space wasoccupied by some man or woman with something to sell. Indians, negroes,country people--it was a motley crowd and well worth seeing. The Indiansfor the most part sat on the sidewalk, bent over their wares, thoughhere and there one or two leaned back against a building.
"We saw Indians like these at Bear River," said Priscilla, "only alittle better dressed,--perhaps because it was a holiday. But thesebaskets are the best I've seen this summer."
Baskets and sweet grass were the stock in trade of these Indians, andsome of the baskets were of odd designs and really artistic shapes.
"Do you really like them?" asked Lucian, and almost in the next breathhe had laid three or four of the prettiest in Priscilla's arms.
"For Martine?" asked Priscilla.
"No, no, for you,--if you'll take them. There, let me carry them. I didnot mean to load you down. Only I thought I might see something else."
"Oh, nothing more now, thank you. You are very kind, but these arereally almost too much, and I can carry them myself--"
An old negro at this moment crossed their path, swinging a cane. Theyrealized his nearness only when a sudden flourish of the stick sentPriscilla's baskets flying into the street. The negro, apologizingprofusely, hastened to help Lucian collect the baskets, and Priscillawas pleased that Lucian showed no anger at the man's carelessness.Instead, he began an animated conversation with the old fellow, andreturned to Priscilla's side smiling broadly.
"The old man has been praising his son's wife's vegetables so warmlythat we'll just have to go over there to see them. She is the fat darkeysitting in that cart yonder, and I hope we'll get off without buying herout."
The next moment Lucian was laughing and chaffering with the old negro'sson's wife, and Priscilla gasped as she saw him pointing out turnips,carrots, and even summer squashes. She did not know him well enough toprotest, and she only wondered how he meant to get the things home.
"They're all mine," he called to Priscilla, as she waited for him ashort distance from the cart. Then he leaned over toward the old man andsaid something, and the negro hobbled off, smiling. In a moment hereturned with a large pail, into which his son's wife heaped Lucian'spurchases.
"There," said Lucian, as he returned to Priscilla's side, "won't Mrs.Redmond and the others stare when they behold this load?" and he liftedthe pail that Priscilla might the more readily admire its contents.
"But you don't intend to carry it through the streets?" There was aquestion in Priscilla's tone. Lucian glanced at her curiously. He hadjust been thinking how companionable she was, and now this Plymouth girlwas going to show herself as narrow and conventional as others.
"I needn't carry it," he responded. "Perhaps Sambo here--is your nameSambo?"
"No, sir, my name's Mr. Malachai Robertson."
"Oh, excuse me, Sambo--I mean, Mr. Malachai Robertson--could you find mea good smart boy to carry this pail?"
Malachai looked at his stick--symbol of dignity--then at the young man,but at the same time he probably reflected that a fair fee was in sight;so he straightened himself up, reached over toward the pail, and with an"I'll carry it, sah," fell into line behind Lucian and Priscilla. Beforethe two, however, were quite ready to turn homeward, they lingered towatch the shoppers patronizing the Green Market, and buying supplies ofvegetables and fruit.
"I only wish that Mrs. Redmond had come. It will be too bad if shemisses it altogether--and Amy; the sun has come out so bright that sheought to be here to photograph some of these groups of colored people."
"Oh, the chance is that you will all be here in Halifax next Wednesdaymorning. The Market is here twice a week," responded Lucian. "Just now Isuppose we ought to be turning home, as they are horribly prompt aboutmeals at The Mayflower."
As the two walked up Hollis Street Priscilla noticed that some whom theymet looked at them curiously. But only after she herself had thrown abackward glance over her shoulder did she realize the cause, forstraight behind Lucian stalked Malachai, flourishing his cane after thefashion of a drum-major with his baton, while with the other hand hesupported on his shoulder the pail of vegetables, balancing it with sucha nicety that the carrots and squash and the large bunch of radisheskept their place on the top, though to the casual observer they seemedon the point of falling to the ground.
"Behind Lucian stalked Malachai, flourishing his cane after the fashion of a drum-major."]
Had Priscilla been able to see herself she would have discovered thatshe, too, added to the gaiety of the group, for her baskets were evenmore brilliant in coloring than the vegetables, and as she had to carrythem in her arms they made a rather startling display. Lucian hadoffered to take her load, but she had waved him away.
"No, a boy always finds it much harder to manage clumsy packages. Theseare not heavy; it's merely that they look awkward."
So Lucian had contented himself with buying three or four bouquets ofthe brightest flowers,--dahlias and garden asters chiefly,--and withboth hands thus filled he made the procession more brilliant.
When they reached the house none of their party happened to be in sight,so, at Lucian's suggestions, Priscilla left her baskets on thesitting-room table while she went upstairs to find Mrs. Redmond. Amy'sroom adjoined her mother's, and as Priscilla stood there at Mrs.Redmond's half-open door the sound of voices in the inner room floatedout to her. For a moment she stood there listening, quite unconsciousthat she was eavesdropping, until a sentence in Martine's clear voicecame to her.
"She certainly is a terrible trial, narrow minded and priggish, and Idon't wonder, Amy, that you dislike her."
When Priscilla grasped this sentence in its entirety she turned aboutinstantly.
"Did you find them? Are they coming down?" asked Lucian, cheerfully, asshe rejoined him.
"I--I didn't; that is, I'm not sure," stammered Priscilla. "If you don'tmind, I'll leave the baskets here. Perhaps you would give them to theothers;" and before Lucian could stop her she had run upstairs again.
At the dinner-table Lucian looked anxiously at Priscilla. When shethought that no one was observing her, he caught her wiping away asurreptitious drop of moisture. What could be the matter? Lucian rackedhis brains to decide if by any mischance he had in word or act offendedPriscilla; but his conscience reassured him. He could not recallanything that might have annoyed her. On the contrary, up to the momentof their return to the house they had got along swimmingly--the latterphrase was his way of putting it.
"There's no accounting for girls," he said to himself. "I've knownMartine to get dreadfully excited about nothing; but Priscilla Denmanseemed such a sensible girl that I don't quite understand what thetrouble is."
Before dinner had ended, however, Lucian decided that whatever it wasthat had disturbed Priscilla she did not blame him; for she turned tohim with the utmost friendliness when he made some allusion to theirmorning walk, and between them they soon had the others at tablelaughing at their account of Malachai and the Green Market.
"I hope you paid the old man well for his trouble," said Martine; "forit probably was a great favor on his part to walk up Hollis Streettoting a pail."
"Probably he paid him too well," rejoined Fritz, "unless he has changedhis habits within the week. On our way from Yarmouth I tried to makeLucian see how demoralizing it would be to the natives to introduce thehabit of tipping here."
"Oh, but one ought to pay for benefits received," said Lucian, "and Ireally do try to be prudent."
When dinner was over Lucian noticed that, as they left the room,Priscilla seemed to be trying to avoid Martine. She hardly replied tosome question that the latter addressed her, and he saw other evidencesthat Priscilla did not care to speak to her.
After dinner Martine ran up to her brother.
"Oh, Lucian," she cried, "here's the most exciting letter from papa! Ican't tell you all that's in it now, for it must be kept secret a littlelonger. But aren't you glad that mamma is better? I know you had aletter from her this morning. To think they'll be home in September! Oh,Lucian, I'd like to hug you, I'm so happy!"
"Please, please, not now," begged Lucian; "we couldn't explain to peoplethat I'm your brother;" and he pointed to several passers-by on thesidewalk just outside the garden.
"Then sit here with me in this little arbor. I have several questions,and this is the first good chance I've had. Did you ever hear the name'Balfour' in our family--in mother's family, I mean?"
Lucian shook his head. "'Balfour'?" he repeated. "I've certainly heardthe name somewhere--lately, too, I should think."
"Yes, of course, dear stupid. Balfour Airton; that's the nice boy we metat Annapolis. Mr. Knight's friend, you know, the one we've talkedabout."
"Oh, yes, of course; do you mean to ask if he is in our family? StrangeI never heard of it."
"There, listen, Lucian; this is what I mean. Mrs. Blair is mother'scousin, and her name, you know, is Audrey Balfour Blair."
"Has she a first name, and one so frivolous as 'Audrey'? How did thathappen?"
"That's just what I wish to know. I thought that perhaps you wouldremember whether her name was Balfour before her marriage."
For a few minutes Lucian seemed lost in reflection, then looking up heexclaimed,--
"Yes, Martine, I am sure; Mrs. Blair's name was _not_ 'Balfour,' it was'Tuck.' I once met a brother of hers. He was visiting Chicago. But, I'lltell you what--I am pretty sure that her grandmother was a Balfour.That's where the relationship to mamma comes in. You know that _her_grandmother was a Balfour, and that's what makes them cousins; theirgrandmothers were sisters."
"Why, Lucian," cried Martine, jumping to her feet in her excitement,"that's just what I wanted to know. I don't care anything about Mrs.Blair's grandmother, but if there's a Balfour in mamma's family, don'tyou see how splendid it would be?"
"Can't say that I do," responded Lucian; "but if it pleases you, it'sprobably all right." Lucian had often said confidentially to his friendsthat the ways of girls were past finding out, and he did not except hissister from the general rule.
"Oh, but can't you see, Lucian, that if I could prove that BalfourAirton is a cousin to Mrs. Blair, and if mamma is a cousin of Mrs.Blair's, which--"
"Which she is, without doubt," said Lucian.
"Why, then, don't you see--"
"Oh, yes, I see," cried Lucian. "Why, then, you would be cousin toBalfour Airton and his sister. Well, perhaps there's no harm in that, ifit pleases you; but what is there in it for me? I might not like eitherof your prodigies, and so I am not ready to be made a cousin to people Ihave never seen."
Yet a good-humored twinkle in Lucian's eye seemed to say, "If I would Icould tell you something that would please you mightily--and perhaps Iwill."
Now Martine, understanding her brother pretty well, saw that he wasreally more sympathetic than he professed to be, so she wisely decidedto wait until he was quite reedy to tell her what she wished to know;and to change the subject she pulled a letter from her pocket.
"If you hadn't had a letter from mamma by the same mail I would showthis to you," she said. "It's the most delightful letter papa has everwritten me, though I won't tell why--at least not just now," and shewaved the closely written sheet rather tantalizingly before him.
"Oh, ho, child, you cannot tease me at this late day; and besides, Iknow why you try. Put your letter away, little sister; I can wait untilyou choose to read it to me. But I know what you want, and I am willingto gratify your curiosity. Yes, there was an Audrey Balfour in mother'sfamily; but you may be less interested in her when I tell you about her.She was a Tory."
Lucian uttered the last word with all the scorn of one who has studiedAmerican history built on the most thoroughgoing anti-British basis.
"Oh, that's nothing," responded Martine; "at least, Priscilla would callit nothing. Each of us likes both Acadians and Tories, though I amsupposed to care only for Acadians, and Priscilla for Tories. But how doyou happen to know about this Audrey Balfour?"
"Through the Colonial Dames, my dear. You see, mamma had to have somepapers filled out last spring. It was while you were at school, and sheasked me to get a genealogist to copy certain things for her. Well, Ifound that mother's great-grandfather was a Tory, who was driven fromhis home and went to England or to Canada to live. One or two of hiselder children were married before the Revolution, and their husbandswere on the patriot side. One of these was Audrey, who was thegrandmother of Mrs. Bla
ir; another was our great-grandmother Edmonds.She was Martha Balfour."
"I see," interrupted Martine. "Our great-grandmother! Then it isn't sostrange that I didn't remember the Balfour in our family; it is so faraway. I think it's just wonderful that you remember it."
"Oh, it only happened so because I had had to have it looked up. I hadthe whole line typewritten for my own benefit, and I looked at itseveral times this year. I noticed the Tory Thomas and Audreyespecially, and I wondered if they would effect my eligibility to apatriotic society that I am anxious to join. But I believe that I am allright because I am the loyal descendant of a Tory ancestor."
"Dear me!" cried Martine, when Lucian had finished this long speech."You really sound quite learned! I believe that college has done yousome good after all."
"After all! If you look up my record you'll find that I took all thehistory last year that Harvard allows a Freshman, and it's because Ihave a bent that way that I can remember these things."
"Well, Lucian, you've proved yourself a brick. I hope Priscilla won'tobject to this. Sometimes she is a little jealous--but there, don'trepeat it--perhaps jealous is not just the word; but somehow, shedoesn't always approve of me."
"She's fighting rather shy of you to-day," responded Lucian, "and Ican't help wondering what you've been up to. Miss Denman doesn't seem tome an unreasonable girl. She and I had a fine time to-day at the market.I'm afraid that you have been teasing her, Martine."
But Martine continued to insist that her conscience was quite clear, sofar as Priscilla was concerned, and that Lucian must imagine any tracesof ill-feeling.
Nevertheless, she could but observe that Priscilla seemed to be avoidingher; for, in the afternoon, when Amy and Fritz went off on theirbicycles for a spin through the Park, Priscilla declined Martine'sinvitation to go with her and Lucian to the Public Gardens to hear theband play.
"I have letters to write," she said, "and--well, on the whole, I reallycan't go."
"Very well," rejoined Martine, rather shortly, as she left Priscilla'sroom to report to Lucian that her invitation had been so scorned.
"You must have done something to offend her; think it over carefully,Martine, and then confess," urged Lucian. Priscilla had made so good animpression on him that he was unable to consider her wholly in thewrong.