CHAPTER VIII
MR. DUGALD EXPLAINS
Sidney had fallen asleep on that first night at Cousin Achsa's with theresolution to escape at the earliest moment possible from herhumiliating situation; she would telegraph Trude in the morning.
But with errant sunbeams, as yellow as gold, dancing across one's face,with a tang of salt and pine in the air, fifteen is certain to rise upstrong-hearted, despite all accumulated woe. Forgetting her bitterdisappointment of the night before Sidney sprang from her bed andrushed to the window to look out upon her new surroundings.
There was not really much she could see, for the lane turned at Mrs.Ephraim Calkins' house and beyond her house a hillock of sand rosesteeply to an azure blue sky. But Aunt Achsa's riotous flowers weresmiling their brightest, at the opening of the hedge crouched Nip andTuck regarding the morning with dignified satisfaction, over everythingshone the alluring sun.
A sudden whiff of tobacco caught Sidney's attention. At the same momentthe boarder emerged from the back of the house and walked slowly alongthe clam-shell path that skirted the bit of garden. He was evidentlydeep in thought. Suddenly he bent and picked a flower. As hestraightened his glance interrupted Sidney's curious speculations.
"Good morning, little half-cousin."
"Good morning," Sidney answered, quite cheerfully, thinking as shespoke that he was nicer looking in the garden than he had seemed inCousin Achsa's kitchen the night before. "Is it early or late and is ityour pipe that smells so good?"
"It's early. Aunt Achsa has gone on an errand, for I assured her thatyou would probably sleep until noon. You see I'd forgotten that youare--fifteen, did you say? And that smell--well, it may be the goodAtlantic, or Lav's basket of fish, which is not likely. My best bet isthat it's breakfast over at the Calkins'. I have an idea. I'll finishthis pipe while you dress, then we'll run down and meet Aunt Achsa andincidentally I'll give you your first glimpse of the harbor. What say?"
Sidney indicated her willingness by drawing her head in from the frameof roses. She dressed with haste, splashing the cold water from thebowl over her face and scarcely disturbing the two braids of hair. In afew moments she joined the "boarder" in the garden, rousing him from afrowning contemplation of the little flower he had picked. At her "I'mready" he put it into the pocket of his coat.
Unlike Sidney, Dugald Allan had _not_ slept the night before. Argue ashe would he could not shake the notion that he was responsible forSidney's coming. Because the idea had seemed to please Aunt Achsa hehad encouraged her to invite the girl; to further humor her he himselfhad written the letter that he knew must have given Sidney's family awrong impression of conditions at Aunt Achsa's. Its very tone had beenunwittingly misleading He had not thought of that until he had caughtthe stricken look on Sidney's face the night before, observed herinvoluntary shrinking from the intimacy of the supper table.
Poor Aunt Achsa, it had been rather a ghastly supper in spite of allher efforts and her expectations: Lavender had huddled in his chairwith his great soft eyes on Sidney; Sidney had been too frightened toeat or to answer by more than a monosyllable Aunt Achsa's eagerquestions; poor Aunt Achsa, in an agony of shyness and concern hadfluttered over them all. It had been a relief when Sidney, pleadingweariness from her long journey, took her candle from Aunt Achsa andwent to bed. And later Allan could have sworn he heard the sound ofsobbing from behind that closed door.
The whole thing had bothered him and kept him awake, thinking. And itwas not alone Sidney's disappointment that moved him. He was stirred bya strong desire to make the girl know Aunt Achsa as he knew her, tolove the noble spirit in the weather-beaten old body. Even Lavender.These people might indeed be his own so quickly did he rise in theirdefense. "Well, they _are_ my own!" he muttered. If this Sidney hadbeen like the other fifteen-year-old girls who had crossed his path hewould not have bothered, for they could not have been taught by anyprocess to recognize the gold from the dross; but she seemed different.And he had caught the impression that she had come all this way forsomething that she had wanted very much to find. Her disappointment hadbordered on the tragic. Well, it was no business of his, but he'd makeamends by laying off work for a few days and playing around with herand Lavender.
He was a little taken aback when Sidney, clad in a middy and pleatedskirt, for Trude's last injunction had been to brush and hang away thenew suit in which she had traveled, joined him, no trace of lastnight's woe on her face. With Nip and Tuck following they trampedthrough the sand between the hollyhocks. Where the lane turned into thebeach road Sidney stopped with a quick, delighted intake of breath."Oh, the _boats_! Aren't they darling? I never saw so many. Why, thesails look all pinky!"
Dugald Allan explained that this was a trick of the sun and water."Sometimes they are green and sometimes they are gray and deep purple.The fishing boats are starting out for the grounds. They've beenwaiting for the tide. That large schooner's headed for the banks--Ithink it's the _Puritan_, Jed Starrow's new boat. She won't be back fora week or so. Most of the others will pull in by dark."
"Can I go out on one of them? Oh, you don't know how much I want to,I've never been in anything but a rowboat. And I can swim! Has Lavendera boat?"
"One can always find a dory one can use--whenever he wants one. AndLavender has the _Arabella_."
It was on the tip of Sidney's tongue to ask "What is the _Arabella_?"and something more of this Jed Starrow whom she remembered Captain PhinDavies had mentioned, but another thought seized her, crowding out allothers. From this boarder who seemed to want to be very nice to her,she might learn the answer to the riddle that was perplexing her.
"Mr.-- Mr.--"
"Dugald, please. Won't you treat me like one of the family?"
"Mr.--Dugald, I--I want to ask you something. Prob'ly you'll think it'sdreadfully rude but--you see, none of us, my sisters and me, reallyknew anything about Cousin Achsa and the Greens except what we found ina book in our attic--a sort of family tree book. But I wanted to gosomewhere, so I wrote to her. I didn't tell my sisters until I got ananswer back. Mr.--Dugald, can letters be awfully different--frompeople?"
A guilty shiver raced the length of Mr. Dugald's spine.
"What do you mean?" he parried.
"Why, I mean the letter I got back looked so _nice_. It looked asthough the person who wrote it was--well, sort of rich and lived in abig house and--"
Dugald Allan motioned to an overturned dory.
"Suppose we sit here where we can see Aunt Achsa when she comes up theroad. Now I'll make a confession. _I_ wrote that letter for Aunt Achsa.She didn't feel quite up to the mark, her hand shakes and she's alittle uncertain as to her spelling. I did not think at the time that Ipossibly might be giving you--your family--a wrong impression. AuntAchsa was so happy at finding a relative, so touched that you knewsomething of her, that I only thought of furthering her delight.Anyway--" he faced Sidney's amazed eyes squarely; "You say you didn'tknow anything of Achsa Green except what you--well, you might say, dugout of the attic, weren't you taking a sporting chance when you came?"
Sidney flushed under the challenge in his tone. "I--I guess so. Yousee, I've never done anything _different_--like the other girls have,and I thought it was _my_ turn to use the--the Egg, we call it. Iwanted adventure. But I think I know what you mean; I ought not to bedisappointed because my cousins aren't just what I thought they'd be--"
"Sidney--I've lived--well, a little longer than you have; you see I'vehad a chance to find out a few things about this world of ours and thepeople in it. There's one kind of an aristocracy that we find mostly inbig cities--it comes up overnight, a sham thing made over with agilding of money and wit, very grand on the outside but when youscratch it a little you find the common material underneath. Thenthere's an aristocracy that's the real thing way through--it's so realthat it doesn't ever stop to think that it is an aristocracy. You findthat mostly in old, forgotten, out-of-the-way places--like on Cape Cod.I think here
it's more solid than the most, though it's fast dying;some day it'll be a thing only of romance. But the real Cape Coders aredescended from pioneer men who followed the sea for an honest living,who put bravery and justice and charity and how to live humanly withtheir fellows above money. Most of 'em have been crowded out by adifferent kind of a commerce than they knew how to deal with; that'sLavender's father's story; others, the young ones, have scattered toinland places; some have saved enough money to keep their positions intheir communities, like Captain Phin Davies; a few like your CousinAchsa have nothing but the honor of their people. Miss Sidney, in yourCousin Achsa's old body there is a spirit that has come to her from menwho were like the Vikings of old--she lives by their standards. She'snever known anything but work and poverty, but she faces it--square tothe wind. And I've never known her to make a complaint or to utter abegrudging word to or of a soul. Isn't that nobility?"
"I adore the way you say it!" cried Sidney. "It's just like the thingsthat come to me to say in my attic!"
"Huh? Your--what?" Amazed, Allan looked at her to see if she weremaking fun of him. But her face was alight with enthusiasm.
"You must think a great deal of Cousin Achsa."
"I do. But--wait, I have more I want to say. You see, I feelresponsible on account of that letter--for your coming here. I want totell you--about Lavender. You could not have known--knowing nothing ofany of them--that poor old Lav wasn't--well, like other boys."
Sidney flushed. "No, I didn't. But then I didn't know there _was_ aLavender until I came."
"Look here--" Allan drew from his pocket the flower he had picked up inthe garden. "I was racking my brain for some way to make you seeLavender as I see him--and then I found this. It was growing in acorner of the garden where the soil is poor and the wind harsh andwhere there isn't much sun; see, it's only half-size and the stem iscrooked. But look into the heart of it--it's as beautiful as itsfellows. Well--that's Lavender. After all his poor little body is onlya shell--if the heart of him is fine and straight, isn't that all thatmatters? Like the blossom of the flower. Can't you think of Lav likethat?"
"I'll try to," promised Sidney, "and I'm ashamed dreadfully, to havebeen so disappointed--about everything. I'll take the sporting chance.Of course Vick would poke no end of fun at me if she knew how differenteverything is. But--" with sudden determination, "Vick shall neverknow." Then Sidney drew a long breath and let her thoughts revert tothe _Arabella_.
"What is the _Arabella_?"
"Look beyond that schooner that's nosing into the tide."
"Why, that's a real boat."
"Oh, the _Arabella's_ real enough. But she's been pensioned off--youmight say; she's enjoying a peaceful old age on a sand bar. When thetide is out she's high and dry."
"And she belongs to Lavender?" incredulously.
Dugald Allan laughed. "The blood of his ancestors is strong in the boy.He wanted a boat. A boat of his own--poor lad. He used to hide on thefishing schooners until they'd clear the Point. So I bought the_Arabella_ for him. Her owner was going to chop her up for kindlingwood. She serves a good purpose--and a safe one, moored out there.Lavender sails the globe on her--and nothing can harm him.
"Oh, I see--just pretend. But even that's fun. Will he let me go withhim?"
"I am sure he will. If you ask him to take you to the Caribbean Sea onhis next voyage you'll win him completely."
"I'll help Lavender play the game for I know lots of differentplaces--though they're mostly inside the map."
Dugald Allan was regarding Sidney with thoughtful eyes. She certainlywas not in the least like the fifteen-year-olds he had assiduouslyavoided. "Some kid," he commented, inwardly. Aloud he ventured: "Willit be too inquisitive if I ask you what an Egg is? I see Aunt Achsacoming and I think you'll have just time to tell me--unless you'drather not."
"An Egg? Oh, you mean _my_ Egg. Of course you must have thought itfunny! Why the Egg's the money that comes each year from a book myfather wrote--Goosefeathers. He was always ashamed of it. So we--mysisters, you see, take turns spending the money any way we want to.This is my first turn. Oh, dear, I wasn't going to tell a soul."
"You don't mean to say that you have any--well, objection, to beingknown as the daughter of Joseph Romley?"
"Why, I'm not _ashamed_, of course not, for he was my own dad, and weloved him. Lots of times he acted just as though he wasn't a poet.But--but I wanted to be my own self; that was to be part of myadventure. You see its awfully stupid always having to remember to actlike a poet's daughter; at least it is for Victoria and me--my oldersisters are so used to it that they do it naturally--"
But the astonishing boarder interrupted her with a roar of laughter. Infact, he seemed so amused and even delighted at something that he couldnot control his mirth. "You _are_ the funniest kid!" Then he had tolaugh again. "Did you say you were--only fifteen? And just how dopoets' daughters _have_ to act, anyway? I've only known--one. Well,I'll keep your secret. Only you'll let me talk about it with you oncein a while, won't you? With everyone else you shall be as 'different'as your heart desires. I don't believe Aunt Achsa knows. Now, let's goand meet her and assure her that you are ready for the biggestbreakfast she can give you!"
"And do you think we can go out on the _Arabella_ today?"