CHAPTER XIII. NEIGHBORLINESS.
As Muriel neared the shanty on the sand dunes in which lived her dearlybeloved friend, Captain Barney, she was conscious of unusual noisesissuing therefrom. Surely there was some kind of a commotion going onwithin the humble dwelling. Separating the sounds as she approached, sherecognized one as laughter (none but Linda Wixon laughed like that), thenthere was the clumping of little Zoeth's crutches, and his shrill,excited chatter. This was followed by a hammering and a chorus ofapproving feminine voices.
Muriel hastened her steps. It was impossible to run in the soft sand."What can be goin' on in Uncle Barney's shack?" she wondered. "I reckonhe's givin' a party, though I cal'late that isn't likely, he bein' laidup----" Her thoughts were interrupted by the genial Irishman himself, whoappeared around the corner of the shanty carrying an old rusty stovepipewhich he had replaced with a new one. Rilla noticed that he was steppingas spryly as ever he had.
"Top o' the mornin' to you, mavourneen," he called. "It's great news I'mafter havin'. Me ol' mither as I've been hungerin' for a sight of thesetin year past is comin' at last to live here on the dunes, and the hearto' me is singin' a melody like 'The harp that once through Tara's hallsthe soul of music shed'; but 'twas Tommy Moore said it that way, not yourol' Uncle Barney. That's what poets are for, I reckon, to be puttin' intowords for us the joy we can only be feelin'." Then, as they reached theopen front door of the shack, Captain Barney called: "Belay there, folks,and be makin' yer best bows to our neighbor from across the water."
"Yo-o, Rilly! It's yo' that's come just in time to be tellin' what yo'reckon's the best place to be hangin' the pictures." It wasfifteen-year-old Lindy Wixon who skipped forward and caught her friend bythe hand as she went on to explain: "I got 'em wi' soap wrappers. I wentall over Tunkett collectin'. Every-un was glad, an' more, to give 'emwhen they heard as Cap'n Barney's ol' mither is comin' at last. We wantto purty up the shack so 'twill look homey an' smilin' a welcome to herthe minute she steps into the door."
"Oh-h, but they're handsome!" Muriel said, clasping her hands. Zoeth wasstanding near looking eagerly up into the face of his beloved friend."Which of 'em do you reckon is purtiest?" he queried; then waited herreply as though it were a matter of great importance.
Muriel gazed long at the three brightly colored prints which had beenhung on three sides of the room. "I dunno, honest," she said, "they'reall that beautiful, but I sort o' like the one wi' the lighthouse in itbest. The surf crashes over those rocks real natural, now don't it?"
Zoeth clapped his thin little hands. "That thar's the one I chose, too,Rilly. I knew yo'd choose it."
Sam Peters, who had at one time been a ship carpenter, was busilyhammering at one side of the room where a long low window looked outtoward the sea. "That thar's a windy-seat my Sam is makin'," his wifeexplained to Muriel. "They've one up to Judge Lander's where I go Mondaysto wash, and when I was tellin' Mis' Lander how we was plannin' to purtyup Cap'n Barney's shack, bein' as his ol' mither's comin', she said if wehad a couch or a windy-seat she'd be glad to donate some pillas as shehad in the attic, an' when she fetched 'em down, if thar wa'n't abeautiful turkey-red couch cover amongst 'em."
The window-seat was fast nearing completion and so the group turnedadmiring eyes from the pictures to the handiwork of Sam Peters.
"Make way, thar!" his wife was heard to exclaim a moment later from therear. Everyone turned to see that portly woman approaching, a somewhatfaded turkey-red lounge cover dragging one fringed corner, while fourpillows of as many different colors were in her arms.
Lindy and Muriel sprang forward to assist her, but Mrs. Sam would permitthem to do nothing but hold the pillows, while she herself placed them atwhat she believed to be fashionable angles.
Then with arms akimbo, she stood back and admired the result.
She was sure that Mrs. Judge Lander herself could not have arranged thepillows with more artistic effect. "We'd ought to _all_ of us fix ourcabins up that fine," she announced, "an' I'm a-goin' to."
"That red's powerful han'some," Mrs. Jubal Smalley remarked. "Thar'dought to be a plant settin' on the window sill, just atop o' it."
No one noticed when little Zoeth slipped away, but they all saw himreturn triumphantly bearing his greatest treasure, a potted geraniumwhich had three scarlet blossoms. With cheeks burning and eyes glowing,the little fellow placed it upon the window sill. "It's for yer mither tokeep," he said, looking up at the Irishman, who was deeply touched, forwell he knew how the little fellow had nursed the plant, which the yearbefore Lindy had rescued from a rubbish heap in the summer colony.
Out of his savings Captain Barney had purchased from Mrs. Sol a table andfour straight chairs.
When everything was shipshape and Sam Peters was packing away his tools,Captain Barney spoke. "Neighbors," he began, "in the name of me ol'mither I want to be thankin' yo'. It's a hard life she's been havin' inthe ol' country, what wi' raisin' tin of her own an' two that she tuk aswere left orphants. Says she, when no one else wanted 'em, 'I'll take'em, the poor darlints. If thar's allays room for one more, the saintshelpin', we'll stretch that room so 'twill hold the two of 'em.' An' nowthat the last of 'em is growd, it's aisy I want her to be takin' it. Shecan be drawin' the rocker as yo' all gave me up to the open door an' shekin jest be settin' an' rockin' an' restin' an' lookin' out at the sea.'Twill be nigh like Heaven for me ol' mither, an' it's thankin' ye againI am for all ye've been doin'."
Somebody tried to say something, but it ended in a sincere handshaking,and many eyes were moist. Then Muriel and her dear friend were leftalone. With an arm about the girl he loved, the old man stood looking outat sea.
"Rilly gal," he said at last, "how kind folks are in this world. It's apleasant place to be livin'."
Captain Barney did not realize that the fisher folk about him were butreturning a bit of the loving kindness which he had shown to them intheir many hours of need.
Glancing at the clock, he said briskly: "Nigh two, Rilly gal. Yer UncleBarney must be gettin' ready for the three-forty train up to Boston."
* * * * * * * *
That evening, when Muriel was telling her grandfather all that hadhappened, she said: "Grand-dad, I dunno why 'tis, but I feel sorto' asthough things are comin' out different from the way Uncle Barney'splannin'."
"I reckon that's along of the fact that he's had his heart sot so manytimes on his old mither's cruisin' over the big pond, but suthin' allayskept her anchored, seemed like, on 'tother side."
Then, as the old man rose, he looked out toward the darkening east."Storm's a-breedin' at last, Rilly gal. I swan I never knew an equinoxialto hold off so long. I reckon 'twa'n't git here till 'round aboutmornin'." Then he added: "I dunno why 'tis, Rilly gal, but I'm sort o'dreadin' the big storm this year."
The girl shuddered. A cold night wind was rising. "Grand-dad," shepleaded, "let's go in an' be readin' in the Good Book."
Every night since the one on which he had cast hate out of his heart theold man had tried to read from the New Testament to Muriel, and though hestumbled over many of the longer words, the girl caught the spirit of itand retold it with her own interpretation.