CHAPTER XIX
TRACING THE LINIMENT WAGON
TO Wellfleet, to Orleans, to Chatham went the telephone call, toHarwichport and then back again to the little towns on the bay side ofthe Cape, for the wild-cat and its keepers did not follow a straightcourse in their meanderings. It was some time before Mr. Milfordsucceeded in locating them. At last he hung up the receiver announcing:
"They showed in Orleans last night all right, but it wasn't the road toChatham they took out of there this morning. It was to Brewster. We caneasily overtake them somewhere along in that direction and get back homebefore dark."
There was one ecstatic moment for Georgina when it was made clear to herthat she was included in that "we"; that she was actually to have ashare in an automobile chase like the ones that had thrilled her in themovies. But that moment was soon over.
"I hardly know what to do about leaving Mother," began Uncle Darcy in atroubled voice. "She's feeling uncommon poorly to-day--she's in bed andcan't seem to remember anything longer than you're telling it. Mrs.Saggs came in to sit with her while I was out blueberrying, but shesaid she couldn't stay past ten o'clock. She has company coming."
"Couldn't you get some of the other neighbors to come in for the fewhours you'd be away?" asked Mr. Milford. "It's important you shouldfollow up this clue yourself."
"No, Mrs. Saggs is the only one who keeps Mother from fretting when I'maway from her. Her side window looks right into our front yard, andordinarily it would be enough just for her to call across to her now andthen, but it wouldn't do to-day, Mother not being as well as common.She'd forget where I was gone and I couldn't bear to have her lyingthere frightened and worried and not remembering why I had left heralone. She's like a child at times. _You_ know how it is," he said,turning to Georgina. "Not flighty, but just needing to be soothed andtalked to."
Georgina nodded. She knew, for on several occasions she had sat besideAunt Elspeth when she was in such a mood, and had quieted and pleasedher with little songs and simple rhymes. She knew she could do it againto-day as effectually as Mrs. Saggs, if it wasn't for giving up thatexciting motor chase after the wild-cat woman. It seemed to her agreater sacrifice than flesh and blood should be called upon to make.She sat on the porch step, twirling her prism carelessly on its pinkribbon while she waited for the machine to be brought around. Then sheclimbed into the back seat with Uncle Darcy and the two pails ofblueberries, while Richard settled himself and Captain Kidd in frontwith his Cousin James.
They whirled up to the Gray Inn to leave the blueberries, and thenaround down Bradford Street to Fishburn Court to attempt to explain toAunt Elspeth. On the way they passed the Pilgrim monument. Georginatried not to look at it, but she couldn't help glancing up at it fromthe corner of her eye.
"You must," it seemed to say to her.
"I won't," she as silently answered back.
"It's your duty," it reminded her, "and the idea of a descendant of oneof the Pilgrim Fathers and one of the Minute-men shirking her duty. Apretty member of the Rainbow Club _you_ are," it scoffed.
They whirled by the grim monster of a monument quickly, but Georginafelt impelled to turn and look back at it, her gaze following it uphigher and higher, above the gargoyles, to the tipmost stones whichseemed to touch the sky.
"I hate that word Duty," she said savagely to herself. "It's as big andugly and as always-in-front-of-you as that old monument. They're exactlyalike. You can't help seeing them no matter which way you look or howhard you try not to."
At the gate she tried to put the obnoxious word out of her mind byleaning luxuriously back in the car and looking up at the chimney topswhile Uncle Darcy stepped out and went into the house. He came out againalmost immediately, crossed the little front yard and put his head in atMrs. Saggs' side window. After a short conversation with her he came outto the gate and stood irresolutely fingering the latch.
"I don't know what to do," he repeated, his voice even more troubledthan before. "Mother's asleep now. Mrs. Saggs says she'll go over attwelve and take her her tea, but--I can't help feeling I ought not toleave her alone for so long. Couldn't you manage without me?"
And then, Georgina inwardly protesting, "I don't want to and I won't,"found herself stepping out of the car, and heard her own voice sayingsweetly:
"I'll stay with Aunt Elspeth, Uncle Darcy. I can keep her fromfretting."
A smile of relief broke over the old man's face and he said heartily:
"Why, of course you can, honey. It never occurred to me to ask a littlelass like you to stop and care for her, but you can do it better thananybody else, because Mother's so fond of you."
Neither had it occurred to him or to either of the others that it was asacrifice for her to give up this ride. There was not a word from anyoneabout its being a noble thing for her to do. Mr. Milford, in a hurry tobe off, merely nodded his satisfaction at having the matter arranged soquickly. Uncle Darcy stepped back to the window for a parting word withMrs. Saggs.
"She'll keep an ear out for you, Georgina," he said as he went back tothe car. "Just call her if you want her for any reason. There's plentycooked in the cupboard for your dinner, and Mrs. Saggs will tend toMother's tea when the time comes. When she wakes up and asks for me bestnot tell her I'm out of town. Just say I'll be back bye and bye, andhumor her along that way."
And then they were off with a whirr and a clang that sent the chickensin the road scattering in every direction. Georgina was left standing bythe gate thinking, "What made me do it? What _made_ me do it? I don'twant to stay one bit."
The odor of gasoline cleared away and the usual Sabbath-like stillnesssettled down over all the court. She walked slowly across the shadylittle grass plot to the front door, hesitated there a moment, then wentinto the cottage and took off her hat.
A glance into the dim bedroom beyond showed her Aunt Elspeth's whitehead lying motionless on her pillow. The sight of the quiet sleeper madeher feel appallingly lonesome. It was like being all by herself in thehouse to be there with one who made no sound or movement. She would haveto find something to do. It was only eleven o'clock. She tiptoed outinto the kitchen.
The almanac had been left lying on the table. She looked slowly throughit, and was rewarded by finding something of interest. On the last pagewas a column of riddles, and one of them was so good she started tomemorize it so that she could propound it to Richard. She was sure henever could guess it. Finding it harder to remember than it seemed atfirst glance, she decided to copy it. She did not know where to look fora sheet of paper, but remembered several paper bags on the pantryshelves, so she went in search of one. Finding one with only a cupful ofsugar left in it, she tore off the top and wrote the riddle on that witha stub of a pencil which she found on the table.
While searching for the bag she took an inventory of the supplies in thepantry from which she was to choose her dinner. When she had finishedcopying the riddle she went back to them. There were baked beans andblueberry pie, cold biscuit and a dish of honey.
"I'll get my dinner now," she decided, "then I'll be ready to sit withAunt Elspeth when her tea comes."
As Georgina went back and forth from table to shelf it was inunconscious imitation of Mrs. Triplett's brisk manner. Pattering afterthat capable housekeeper on her busy rounds as persistently as Georginahad done all her life, had taught her to move in the same way. Presentlyshe discovered that there was a fire laid in the little wood stoveready to light. The stove was so small in comparison to the big kitchenrange at home, that it appealed to Georgina as a toy stove might havedone. She stood looking at it thinking what fun it would be to cooksomething on it all by herself with no Tippy standing by to say do thisor don't do the other.
"I think I ought to be allowed to have some fun to make up for mydisappointment," she said to herself as the temptation grew stronger andstronger.
"I could cook me an egg. Tippy lets me beat them but she never lets mebreak them and I've always wanted to break one and let it go plunk intothe pan."
r /> She did not resist the temptation long. There was the sputter of amatch, the puff of a flame, and the little stove was roaring away soeffectively that one of old Jeremy's sayings rose to her lips. Jeremyhad a proverb for everything.
"Little pot, soon hot," she said out loud, gleefully, and reached intothe cupboard for the crock of bran in which the eggs were kept. ThenGeorgina's skill as an actor showed itself again, although she was notconscious of imitating anyone. In Tippy's best manner she wiped out thefrying-pan, settled it in a hot place on the stove, dropped in a bit ofbutter.
With the assured air of one who has had long practice, she picked up anegg and gave it a sharp crack on the edge of the pan, expecting it topart evenly into halves and its contents to glide properly into thebutter. It looked so alluringly simple and easy that she had alwaysresented Tippy's saying she would make a mess of it if she tried to doit. But mess was the only name which could be given to what poured outon the top of the stove as her fingers went crashing through the shelland into the slimy feeling contents. The broken yolk dripped from herhands, and in the one instant she stood holding them out from her indisgust, all the rest of the egg which had gone sliding over the stove,cooked, scorched and turned to a cinder.
The smell and smoke of the burning egg rose to the ceiling and filledthe room. Georgina sprang to close the door so that the odor would notrouse Aunt Elspeth, and then with carving knife and stove-lid lifter,she scraped the charred remains into the fire.
"And it looked _so_ easy," she mourned. "Maybe I didn't whack it quicklyenough. I'm going to try again." She felt into the bran for another egg.This time she struck the shell so hard that its contents splashed outsideways with an unexpected squirt and slid to the floor. She was readyto cry as she wiped up the slippery stuff, but there came to her mindsome verses which Tippy had taught her long ago. And so determined hadTippy been for her to learn them, that she offered the inducement of astring of blue beads. The name of the poem was "Perseverance," and itbegan:
"_Here's a lesson all should heed---- Try, try again. If at first you don't succeed, Try, try again._"
and it ended,
"_That which other folks can do Why with patience may not you? Try, try again._"
Tippy sowed that seed the same winter that she taught Georgina "TheLanding of the Pilgrims"; but surely, no matter how long a time sincethen, Tippy should be held accountable for the after effects of thatplanting. If Georgina persevered it was no more than could be expectedconsidering her rigorous up-bringing.
Georgina pushed the frying-pan to the back of the stove where it wascooler, and with her red lips pursed into a tight line, chose anotheregg, smote it sharply on the edge of the pan, thereby cracking it andbreaking the shell into halves. Her thumbs punched through into the yolkof this one also, but by letting part of the shell drop with it, shemanaged to land it all in the pan. That was better. She fished out thefragment of shell and took another egg.
This time the feat was accomplished as deftly as an expert chef couldhave done it, and a pleased smile took the place of the grimdetermination on Georgina's face. Elated by her success she brokeanother egg, then another and another. It was as easy as breathing orwinking. She broke another for the pure joy of putting her dexterity tothe test once more. Then she stopped, appalled by the pile of emptyshells confronting her accusingly. She counted them. She had brokeneight--three-fourths of a setting. What would Uncle Darcy say to such awicked waste? She could burn the shells, but what an awful lot ofinsides to dispose of. All mixed up as they were, they couldn't be savedfor cake. There was nothing to do but to scramble them.
Scramble them she did, and the pan seemed to grow fuller and fuller asshe tossed the fluffy mass about with a fork. It was fun doing that. Shemade the most of this short space of time, and it was over all too soon.She knew that Aunt Elspeth had grown tired of eggs early in the summer.There was no use saving any for her. Georgina herself was not especiallyfond of them, but she would have to eat all she could to keep them frombeing wasted.
Some time after she rose from the table and looked at the dish with afeeling of disgust that there could still be such a quantity left, aftershe had eaten so much that it was impossible to enjoy even a taste ofthe blueberry pie or the honey. Carrying the dish out through the backdoor she emptied it into the cats' pan, fervently wishing that John andMary Darcy and old Yellownose could dispose of it all without beingmade ill.
Long ago she had learned to do her sums in the sand. Now she stoopeddown and with the handle of her spoon scratched some figures in thepath. "If twelve eggs cost thirty cents, how much will eight eggs cost?"That was the sum she set for herself. Only that morning she had heardTippy inquire the price of eggs from the butter-woman, and say they wereunusually high and hard to get because they were so many summer peoplein town this season. She didn't know where they were going to get enoughfor all the cakes necessary for the Bazaar.
It took Georgina some time to solve the problem. Then going back to thekitchen she gathered up all the shells and dropped them into the fire.Her sacrifice was costing her far more than she had anticipated.Somehow, somewhere, she must get hold of twenty cents to pay for thoseeggs. Duty again. _Always_ Duty. But for that one horrid word she wouldbe racing down the road to Brewster in the wake of the wild-cat woman.She wondered if they had caught up with her yet.