CHAPTER XXI
VARIETY
After the Shoals excursion Martine's life was less placid than before.Peggy, as if to make amends for her apparent neglect, tried to draw herinto some of the gayer doings of the younger set.
"It's very kind of Peggy, but I can't make her understand that I didn'tcome here wholly for fun; or rather that I find fun in things that shewould consider quiet. Clare feels as I do, and we try to make Peggy seethat we enjoy a morning under the trees, or a walk in the meadow, quiteas well as a game of golf with tea at the Club."
"Golf is good exercise, and you used to like it."
"I know it, but I don't need it in midsummer, and besides--"
Martine did not explain that she did not care to engage in golf, or inanything that would take her away too much from Red Knoll. "Besides,"she said to herself, "I won't accept invitations that I can't return,and we are not in the mood for entertaining this summer, even if we hadmoney to waste."
Angelina thought it strange that Mrs. Stratford and Martine preferredthe quiet life, and by gentle hints tried to impress on them that theywere losing a great deal by declining some of the invitations that cameto them. Mrs. Brownville, among others, had called. A day or two afterthe Shoals excursion, Mrs. Brownville and Carlotta drove up to RedKnoll. Martine at the moment was carrying on an argument with thebutcher, who had drawn his cart up nearer the front door than the back.Martine was balancing a chicken in one hand and holding a large cabbagein the other, and was gently arguing with the butcher regarding hisprices.
It was somewhat disconcerting to have Mrs. Brownville and Carlotta, inelaborate gowns and flower-laden hats, descend upon her while she waswearing an apron over her gingham skirt. There was no escape forMartine, and before she could decide what to do with the chicken or thecabbage, Mrs. Brownville had advanced toward her with outstretched hand.At this moment, Angelina fortunately appeared on the scene to relieveMartine of her burdens, and Mrs. Brownville politely ignored what shehad seen. Martine, however, after the first greetings, broke the ice byplunging into a humorous discussion of summer housekeeping.
"It's the funniest thing," she said, "that clothes and food are so muchalike."
"Yes," said Mrs. Brownville, though her expression showed that she couldnot grasp Martine's meaning.
"Yes," repeated Martine; "in both cases we have to pay highest for thetrimmings. When I order three pounds of beef-steak and only get a poundand a half, though I pay for three, the butcher says, 'It's all onaccount of the trimmings' and it's so with chickens, and lamb, andalmost everything except eggs; though for eggs there are three grades offresh eggs."
"Really?" said Mrs. Brownville, not knowing what else to say. She had asmall sense of humor combined with a kind heart; that is, she was alwayswilling to do a kindness when it came directly in her way to do it. Shewas not quite sure whether or not Martine was making a demand on her forsympathy. Before she could decide what to say, Carlotta interposed. Shesuspected that Martine was laughing at them both and she wished shecould escape the special errand which had brought her. A moment laterMartine had led the way into the little sitting-room where her motherreceived the guests; and soon Carlotta made her errand known.
"I am going to have a little dance at the Club on Saturday evening and Ido hope you can come," she said to Martine.
"Yes," added Mrs. Brownville, "it's going to be the most elegant danceof the season, that is for the young people."
A shade of annoyance crossed Carlotta's face; she had wished to pretendit was to be a very simple affair, so that her guests would be the moreimpressed in the end by all the expense lavished on it.
"Oh, thank you very much," replied Martine, "but I'm not going out atall evenings at present."
"Herbert will be so disappointed."
At this speech of her mother's Carlotta felt an annoyance that she didnot show. She did not wish Martine to know that her invitation was dueonly to Herbert's urging.
"I know it would be delightful," said Martine, "but really I am notdancing this summer."
Carlotta for the moment felt that she would do almost anything to getMartine to take back her refusal. It was irritating that a girl livingin as humble a house as Red Knoll should show so little appreciation ofan invitation that should have been accepted almost with gratitude. Soshe rose to her feet and rather abruptly said good-bye to Mrs. Stratfordand Martine.
"I must hurry on," she explained, "as I have an engagement at the Club.Mamma, I will send the carriage back for you." And with another word ortwo of good-bye, Carlotta made a rather hasty departure. After herdaughter had gone Mrs. Brownville talked on in her usual rather ramblingfashion. She admired the wall papers and the furnishings of the littleroom.
"Really you've made the most of everything," she said in a mannersavoring of patronage that irritated Martine, though she knew Mrs.Brownville did not mean to offend her.
A little later Herbert appeared on the scene.
"Oh, do change your mind," he urged; "I told Carlotta--"
"Then it was you who asked her to come? I thought so."
Again Herbert reddened.
"Well, you see you weren't on the list when the first invitations weresent out, and I was afraid you might be offended, only I thought youwere too sensible, and so--"
"There, there," interposed Martine; "I am sensible, that is, I am notoffended really, because Carlotta did not think of me in the firstplace."
"Then you will accept?"
"Oh, no, I am not going out this summer, at least to things of thatkind."
"Then I won't go either," said Herbert sulkily; "I hate summer dancesand I know a lot of fellows who will stay away too."
"Now, Herbert," said Martine emphatically, "don't be a goose. You oughtto try to please Carlotta once in a while, and really, if I hear thatyou stay away from Carlotta's party, I won't be friends with you."
Whether or not Martine influenced him she never knew, but it was a factthat Herbert and his friends went in force to Carlotta's dance, whichMartine heard was really a very successful affair.
For a week or two after this Martine herself felt rather left out ofthings. She had few friends in the Philadelphia group. Peggy, it istrue, as if to make up for her early apparent neglect, did try on morethan one occasion to get Martine to join some excursion.
But Martine was firm. She saw that she could not well accept oneinvitation and refuse another, and she decided that she could affordneither the time nor the money that these outings required.
Mrs. Stratford watched Martine with some concern. The change from herformer self was almost too great. But when her mother remonstrated withher, Martine invariably replied that she was perfectly contented--thathousekeeping that involved a constant oversight of Angelina affordedexcitement enough.
"Besides," she added, "there is Clare; she is livelier than Priscilla,though almost as improving. To-morrow we are going down by SpoutingRock; she, to take photographs, I, to sketch, and she knows any numberof picturesque places."
"Your plan sounds improving, if not exciting," responded Mrs. Stratford,smiling.
"We think it will be more fun than going off with a crowd. Instead ofriding to Bald Head Cliff with Peggy and her crowd, Clare has asked meto go to Ogunquit on Saturday. We shall drive over, and she is going toask you too. Her cousin, Mr. Carrol, has a studio there, and we are allinvited to luncheon, so please say you will go, mamma."
"Why, yes, when I am really invited," replied Mrs. Stratford, smiling;and a few moments later, when Clare appeared with her message from Mrs.Ethridge, the drive was quickly arranged.
The day at Ogunquit was one of many pleasant, quiet days that Martinespent with Clare on the shore or up the river. Almost always Mrs.Stratford and Mrs. Ethridge went with them. In a short time Martine hadbecome an expert paddler, and she was proud enough to have her motherentrust herself to her care. One afternoon, in two canoes, the four wentthree or four miles up the river to have tea in a little cove on theBans. It did not detract from Mar
tine's pleasure, when they passed theCountry Club, to hear Peggy and Carlotta shout from the piazza:
"Don't go past."
"There's a landing here."
Or rather, if they did not hear clearly they judged that this was themeaning of the words that were accompanied with signals and gestures.But without heeding the sirens, Martine and Clare paddled on and theirouting was a complete success. It cannot be said that they made theirpassage upstream without difficulties. It was near the turn of the tide,and part of the way the current was against them. But of two evils theyhad to choose the less, as Clare thought it wiser to return down theriver with the current wholly in their favor.
"If the York were a real river, we wouldn't have to do so much planning,but you see it's only an arm of the sea, and in its whole seven milesfrom the harbor, the tide has to be closely reckoned with."
"Yes, I've heard weird tales of canoeists left high and dry on the shorebecause they had forgotten to calculate the rise and fall of the tide,"added Martine.
"It's generally worse for the parents at home than for the strandedyoung people. I have known mothers half-distracted while waiting to hearfrom missing daughters," said Mrs. Ethridge.
"Then we were wise in coming with the girls," added Mrs. Stratford.
"As if we would have come without you. The whole fun to-day is showingyou the river," responded Martine, who had been up with Clare before."There," she continued, "I forgot to give you my one piece ofinformation--that Sewall's Bridge near the Country Club is the oldestpier bridge in the United States, and was built by the same Major Sewallwho built the first bridge between Cambridge and Boston."
"Unimportant, if true," and Mrs. Stratford smiled at Martine'searnestness. "I approve, my dear, of your zeal for history, but in NewEngland people often make too much of unimportant trifling things."
"Bridges and houses."
"Yes, and Indians and wars and--"
"Then you won't appreciate this verse that Clare recited the other day:
"Hundreds were murdered in their beds Without shame or remorse, And soon the floors and roads were strewed With many a bloody corse."
"Evidently the writer of those lines had a real tragedy in mind,"replied Mrs. Stratford.
"Yes," interposed Clare, "it was the Indian massacre of 1792, when morethan three hundred savages came into York on snow-shoes, and killed halfthe people of the place,--all in fact except those who had taken refugein the old garrison house. The minister, Rev. Shubael Dummer was shotwhile standing at his door--and--"
"Tell her, Clare, about the little boy," said Martine.
"Oh, Jeremiah Moulton, the only person within the Indian's reach whomthey spared. He was a fat little boy, and when he caught sight of thesavages he waddled away as fast as his little legs would carry him. Thisso amused the Indians that they laughed and laughed and spared him.Though hardly more than a baby at the time the boy never forgot hisfright, and years later he revenged himself on the Indians in what wasknown as the Harmon Massacre,--and many people have since blamed him forhis cruelty."
"Probably they had never been chased by Indians," responded Martine. "Hejests at scars who never felt a wound."
"We must go to the McIntire garrison house some day," continued Clare."Though it wasn't the refuge during that particular massacre, the twohouses were probably much alike, and this is one of the oldest buildingsin the country--built in 1623."
"Clare," exclaimed Martine, "excuse my interrupting you, but you aretremendously like Amy when you are imparting information, though atother times I hardly notice the resemblance. I shall forget half youhave told me, and I wonder how you happen to remember so much."
"If you should come here as many summers as I have come, you wouldunconsciously imbibe dates and scraps of information."
"But now," said Martine, "we are hungry for something more substantialthan dates, and with your permission, Mrs. Ethridge, we'll open thebasket."
The sandwiches prepared by Angelina's deft fingers, and the cakes andfruit brought by Clare made a supper fit for a king, as Martine phrasedit, and the journey home with wind and tide in their favor brought to anend one of the pleasantest afternoons of the season.
A few days after the canoe trip Martine and Clare started out for a dayat Newcastle, accompanied by Angelina. Mrs. Stratford was spending theday with Mrs. Ethridge, and Angelina was in a seventh heaven of delightas she walked along carrying the basket. Angelina had an especialinterest in Clare dating from the night of the Fourth, for sheconsidered that her fire-balloon and the tact with which she had rescuedit from Mrs. Ethridge's grounds had led to the acquaintance between theRed Knoll household and the family across the road.
She did not know, since she was not a mind-reader, that Mrs. Ethridgewould have called on Mrs. Stratford within a few days of the Fourth,even without her intervention. But as her own belief made her so happy,no one had pricked the bubble of Angelina's illusion.
While the girls were waiting for the car, Herbert came in sight.
"Off for the day, portfolio, camera, easel!" he exclaimed. "Then surelyyou will let me go with you."
"No," replied Martine firmly, "this isn't a picnic. We are just goingoff to work a little, and enjoy ourselves."
"I like that. As if I would interfere. Atherton will be along in aminute, and he would enjoy the excursion too."
"No," repeated Martine, with increasing firmness. "We have made ourplans. We wish to go by ourselves."
Clare, who saw no good reason for Martine's attitude toward Herbert, yetthought it wiser not to interfere.
Herbert, who so seldom was out of temper, now seemed offended.
"Very well," he said abruptly, "I won't trouble you," and turning on hisheel, he walked away.
"I can't help it," explained Martine in answer to Clare's look ofwonder. "One boy, or two, for that matter, would be terribly in the wayin a little trip like this. Here's the car, and I am glad enough to beoff."
Now it happened that Carlotta and another girl who knew Martine went asfar as Kittery on the same car. On their return to York they foundHerbert on the links.
"You were on the same car with Martine; did she say where she was goingwith Grace?" he asked abruptly.
"She mentioned Newcastle," replied Carlotta. "They will cross on theferry, and may row back across the river."
"How foolish girls are!" grumbled Herbert. "They think because they canpaddle up York River that it's perfectly safe to row anywhere else. Ihope they won't try it alone. There's a fearful current at the mouth ofthe Piscataqua."
"I don't see why you should care," responded Carlotta sharply. "Besides,Martine can generally take care of herself. Besides, I must tell you afunny thing. You know there was a young conductor on the special the daywe went to the Shoals. Peggy says he watched Martine when she wasn'tlooking, and I know Martine asked me if he reminded me of any one I knewat home. Well, to-day he was on the regular car--and once when we waitedat a turnout, Clare and Martine got off and stood by the side of theroad, and in a minute he and she were talking as if they had always beenacquainted. They actually stood there under the trees and talked, andAngelina stood there grinning like a Cheshire cat, the way she alwaysdoes."
"Well, why not? Why shouldn't Martine talk to whom she pleases? Really,Carlotta, how silly you are!" and Herbert walked off with an expressionof disdain for a foolish sister.
Now this is what had really happened. Martine and Clare had not beenlong on their way when the former exclaimed excitedly, "Do you remember,Clare, that boy I told you of, Balfour Airton, whom we met in NovaScotia, who was so clever and knew everything about old Port Royal, whomI discovered to be a kind of cousin? Well, he's the conductor."
"What conductor?" asked Clare, who had not quite followed the course ofMartine's thought.
"Why, our conductor on this car, and he was on the special the otherday; I thought so then, but now I am quite sure. He hasn't given me achance to speak to him, because I wasn't noticing him when you paid thefares,
but as soon as I can I am going to recognize him."
A moment after this, the car reached the turnout where it had to waitfor the car from Portsmouth, and then Martine had her opportunity. SoCarlotta was right. Martine and Clare did spend a minute or two talkingto the young conductor, who admitted that he had recognized Martine onthe former occasion, though he had hesitated to reveal his identity toher.
"Your uniform was almost a disguise, though at the last moment I knew itwas your voice; but of course I had no idea you were in this part of theworld."
Balfour had no time to explain before the other car appeared in sight,but as he assisted the girls back to their seats Martine said cordially,"You must be sure to look us up."
It was not long before they reached the point on the Kittery shore wherethey were to take the little ferry for Newcastle.
"The Piscataqua is more of a river than the York," said Clare, "andthere's a good deal to see along these banks. We'll have to contentourselves with Newcastle to-day, but sometime we might go farther downand touch at the other landings."
"We mustn't forget that we have come here to work to-day," repliedMartine. "I am really anxious to do one sketch--and here is just thespot," she concluded, taking her position at a point from which she hada perfect view of an old house well shaded at the head of a littlebeach.
While Martine was sketching, Clare fluttered about, taking first onething and then another that pleased her fancy, and often includingAngelina in her views to the great delight of the latter.
"While Martine was sketching, Clare fluttered about."]
"How blue the water is, and the sky! I haven't felt so thoroughly in themood for good work since I left Acadia," exclaimed Martine.
"But the sun is terribly hot," replied Clare, "and I am hungry. Let usgo inside Fort Constitution for our luncheon. There will surely be moreshade there."
"Your word is law," and Martine reluctantly gathered up her belongings,and soon the three had ensconced themselves in a shady corner within thecrumbling walls of the old grass-grown Fort.
"'Fort William and Mary' was the name of the first Fort near this spot,"explained Clare, returning to her role of guide, "and even before hisride to Concord and Lexington, Paul Revere is said to have posted uphere to tell the people of Portsmouth that the British were sending onehundred men to take all the powder away.
"Accordingly four hundred men of Portsmouth marched out to Fort Williamand Mary, and required the Captain in command and his five men tosurrender. Then they took the powder to a safer hiding-place, and laterit was sent down to Boston, where it is said to have been used in theBattle of Bunker Hill. That other little tower is called the WalbachTower, for Col. Walbach who commanded the fort in the War of 1812.There's a funny story about the building of this tower. Any one can seethat it probably isn't true, although a poem has been written on thesubject. The story is simply that the people of Portsmouth, alarmed bythe sight of some British ships in the harbor, came over here in thenight and worked like bees, men, women, and children, laying stonesuntil this tower was built. There isn't an atom of proof that this istrue."
"But it's a pretty story," said Martine.
After luncheon, Clare gave Martine the choice of two walks--to Odiorne'sPoint, called the "Plymouth Rock of New Hampshire," as the firstsettlement was made there, or to Little Harbor.
Martine promptly chose the latter, because she was anxious to see theold Wentworth house. To their disappointment, when the girls reached it,the three found the old house closed; but the grounds were open to themand the curious exterior amused Martine, reminding her, as she said, ofhalf a dozen small houses piled and twisted together to make one largeone.
"This is the house where Martha Hilton was married," explained Clare. "Iam sorry we cannot go inside. The rooms with their polished floors andold-time furniture are really fascinating. Cousin Mary--I hope you willmeet her some time in Portsmouth--says that Benning Wentworth, in spiteof being Governor, was a plain man, and son of a plain farmer, so thathis marriage with Martha Hilton was not such a tremendous mesalliance."
"Oh, I remember that poem," cried Angelina, "how the Governor marriedthe servant maid. It's by Longfellow, and the story's something likeAgnes Surriage. The minister didn't want to marry them. I can say someof it, and she recited dramatically:
"'This is the lady, do you hesitate? Then I command you, as Chief Magistrate. The Rector read the service loud and clear. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here-- And so on to the end. At his command On the fourth finger of her fair left hand, The governor placed the ring, and that was all. Martha was Lady Wentworth of the Hall.'
"So I'm glad to see this hall," she added, after Clare and Martine hadsufficiently praised her recitation,--"and there's one thing more thatI'd like to see,--the island in the harbor, where they kept the Spanishprisoners two years ago. You know I used to think I must be partlySpanish myself, I had so much sympathy for Cervera and all his men. I'msorry they didn't stay here longer. It would be so pleasant to go to theisland and console them."
"Perhaps you'll be as well pleased if you can _see_ Seavey's Island,"replied Clare, smiling. "We passed the other day on our way to theShoals; and sometime you must take the same trip."
For the time this suggestion satisfied Angelina, and she heard withevident pleasure all that Clare and Martine had to say about oldNewcastle.
Intending to catch the last ferry of the afternoon, Clare and Martinecut short their stay at Little Harbor, delightful though they found theneighborhood with its suggestions of antiquity. They had a long walkbefore them--long at least for an August afternoon, and they did notreach the pier as quickly as they had hoped.
In spite of Clare's intention and Martine's efforts to be prompt, thelittle tug had left the landing a minute before they reached it. Byclose calculation, as they glanced at the time-table, they saw that theywould be altogether too late in reaching home, if they waited for thenext boat.
"Isn't it aggravating?" cried Martine, "to have to stand here and wait,when the distance across to Kittery is so little."
"There's nothing to do but wait," replied Clare.
Martine followed the direction in which she pointed, and saw an old manin a row-boat approaching the pier.
"Do you suppose he would take us over?"
"Why not? Let's ask him."
The two friends, with Angelina following close behind, stood on the endof the pier while the old man was mooring his boat.
"Will you row us over to the other side?" asked Martine.
He paid no attention to them, but continued tying a knot in his rope.The question was repeated in a slightly different form, and still theold man made no answer.
"He must be deaf," said Angelina.
"Or the wind's blowing in the wrong direction," said Clare. "We mustwait till he comes up to us."
When the old man approached, by signs and words they made him understandwhat they wished, and he smiled pleasantly when Clare put a dollar billin his hand.
"It's worth it," she said in an aside to Martine. "If we cross with him,we shall save two hours on our homeward journey."
So the old man untied his boat, which was ample enough for the four, andthe girls quickly took their places.
"I can't say that I like a deaf boatman," said Clare, "in case of anaccident we might find it awkward that he can't hear."
"An accident!" exclaimed Martine, who seldom feared any unseen things;"there certainly could be no accident in this quiet water." Before theyhad gone very far, however, she began to change her mind. The breezewhich they had noticed while they were on the landing, now seemed to beblowing violently, and despite its heavy freight the boat rockedviolently; it not only rocked, but veered from its course. Martine heldher breath, while the excitable Angelina began to scream.
"Hush! hush!" said Martine, "it's nothing."
"Nothing?" cried Angelina, as a great wave broke over the end of theboat, half drenching her.
"It's only the Piscataqua
current," said Clare. "But ask him if there'sany danger."
The boatman ignored the question. Probably he had not heard it. A greatwave slapped the boat sidewise, and this time Clare's screams were addedto Angelina's. Billows rose all around them. Apparently they were nolonger on the surface of a quiet river, but in the midst of a disturbedocean and their boat was small. Martine kept her eyes on the distantshore; she saw that they were approaching it, slow though their progresswas. The old man seemed to be doing his best, when suddenly one of hisoars broke and they heard him mutter, "that's bad." Bad, it certainlywas; even Martine's courage waned. One thing, however, led her to hopethat they might escape disaster. She had noticed a little boat pushingout from the other side. How rapidly it seemed to approach! Very soonafter the old man's oar snapped, she recognized one of the rowers in theapproaching boat. It was Herbert Brownville.
As the boat drew nearer, they saw that Atherton was Herbert's companion.The boys rowed steadily and swiftly, and soon their boat was beside theother. Leaning over, Herbert extended an oar to the old man who acceptedit with a nod of thanks; it wasn't a time for words; Angelina was intears, Clare was barely calm, and even Martine, the courageous, lookeddisturbed. The old man bent to the oars, the two boats, almost side byside, went on in a straight line.
"Thank you, thank you!" cried Clare, as they got into calmer water.
"You weren't really scared, were you?" shouted Herbert.
"Just a little," replied Martine.
"You should have known of the current," added Herbert. "It was just thewrong time to cross in a small boat, especially with only one oar."
The wind continued to blow, but the rest of their short journey was socalm compared with the turbulent five minutes, that Martine was ashamedof their needless alarm; and yet she was glad enough when at last shefound herself standing on the Kittery bank of the river.
"I knew you'd need a rescuer," exclaimed Herbert, after he had helpedthem ashore.
"But how in the world did you know where to find us?" asked Martine.
Herbert was silent; he did not really care to tell her what Carlotta hadsaid.