CHAPTER IV
THE PILGRIMAGE
Lydia Bray was shocked indeed when they allowed her in the ward to seeher father. A nurse had drawn a screen about the bed, and nodded to herencouragingly.
The pallor of Mr. Bray's countenance, as he lay there with his eyesclosed, unaware of her presence, frightened the girl. She had neverseen him utterly helpless before. He had managed to get around every day,even if sometimes he could not go to work.
But now the forces of his system seemed to have suddenly given out. Hehad overtaxed Nature, and she was paying him for it.
"Lyddy!" he whispered, when finally his heavy-lidded eyes opened and hesaw her standing beside the cot.
The girl made a brave effort to look and speak cheerfully; and Mr.Bray's comprehension was so dulled that she carried the matter off verysuccessfully while she remained.
She spoke cheerfully; she chatted about their last night's experiences;she even laughed over some of Aunt Jane's sayings--Aunt Jane was alwaysa source of much amusement to Mr. Bray.
But the nurse had warned her to be brief, and soon she was beckoned away.She knew he was in good hands at the hospital, and that they would do allthat they could for him. But what the house physician had told her wasuppermost in her mind as she left the institution.
How were they to get to Hillcrest--and live after arriving there?
"If that man paid me twenty dollars for our furniture, I might have fiftydollars in hand," she thought. "It will cost us something like two dollarseach for our fares. And then there would be the freight and baggage, andtransportation for ourselves up to Hillcrest from the station.
"And how would it do to bring father to an old, unheated house--and soearly in the spring? I guess the doctor didn't think about that.
"And how will we live until it is time for us to go--until father is wellenough to be moved? All our little capital will be eaten up!"
Lyddy's practical sense then came to her aid. Saturday night 'Phemie wouldget through at the millinery shop. They must not remain dependent uponAunt Jane longer than over Sunday.
"The thing to do," she decided, "is for 'Phemie and me to start forHillcrest immediately--on Monday morning at the latest. If one of us hasto come back for father when he can be moved, all right. The cost will notbe so great. Meanwhile we can be getting the old house into shape toreceive him."
She found Aunt Jane sitting before her fire, with a tray of tea and toastbeside her, and her bonnet already set jauntily a-top of her head, thestrings flowing.
"You found that flat in a mess, I'll be bound!" observed Aunt Jane.
Lydia admitted it. She also told her what the second-hand man had offered.
"Twenty dollars?" cried Aunt Jane. "Take it, quick, before he has a changeof heart!"
But when Lyddy told her of what the doctor at the hospital had said aboutMr. Bray, and how they really seemed forced into taking up with the offerof Hillcrest, the old lady looked and spoke more seriously.
"You're just as welcome to the use of the old house, and all you can makeout of the farm-crop, as you can be. I stick to what I told you lastnight. But I dunno whether you can really be comfortable there."
"We'll find out; we'll try it," returned Lyddy, bravely. "Nothing liketrying, Aunt Jane."
"Humph! there's a good many things better than trying, sometimes. You'vegot to have sense in your trying. If it was me, I wouldn't go to Hillcrestfor any money you could name!
"But then," she added, "I'm old and you are young. I wish I could sellthe old place for a decent sum; but an abandoned farm on the top of amountain, with the railroad station six miles away, ain't the kind ofproperty that sells easy in the real estate market, lemme tell you!
"Besides, there ain't much of the two hundred acres that's tillable. Themromantic-looking rocks that 'Phemie was exclaimin' over last night, arejest a nuisance. Humph! the old doctor used to say there was money goingto waste up there in them rocks, though. I remember hearing him talk aboutit once or twice; but jest what he meant I never knew."
"Mineral deposits?" asked Lyddy, hopefully.
"Not wuth anything. Time an' agin there's been college professors andsuch, tappin' the rocks all over the farm for 'specimens.' But there ain'tnothing in the line of precious min'rals in that heap of rocks at theback of Hillcrest Farm--believe me!
"Dr. Polly useter say, however, that there was curative waters there. Heused 'em some in his practise towards the last. But he died suddent, youknow, and nobody ever knew where he got the water--'nless 'twas Jud Spink.And Jud had run away with a medicine show years before father died.
"Well!" sighed Aunt Jane. "If you can find any way of makin' a livin'out of Hillcrest Farm, you're welcome to it. And--just as that hospitaldoctor says--it may do your father good to live there for a spell. But_me_--it always give me the fantods, it was that lonesome."
It seemed, as Aunt Jane said, "a way opened." Yet Lyddy Bray could notsee very far ahead. As she told 'Phemie that night, they could get to thefarm, bag and baggage; but how they would exist after their arrival wasa question not so easy to answer.
Lyddy had gone to one of the big grocers and bought and paid for an orderof staple groceries and canned goods which would be delivered at therailroad station nearest to Hillcrest on Monday morning. Thus all theirpossessions could be carted up to the farm at once.
She had spent the afternoon at the flat collecting the clothing, bedding,and other articles they proposed taking with them. These goods she hadtaken out by an expressman and shipped by freight before six o'clock.
In the morning she met the second-hand man at the ruined flat and he paidher the twenty dollars as promised. And Lyddy was glad to shake the dustof the Trimble Avenue double-decker from her feet.
As she turned away from the door she heard a quick step behind her and aneager voice exclaimed:
"I say! I say! You're not moving; are you?"
Lydia was exceedingly disturbed. She knew that boy in the laboratorywindow had been watching closely what was going on in the flat. And nowhe had _dared_ follow her. She turned upon him a face of pronounceddisapproval.
"I--I beg your pardon," he stammered. "But I hope your father's better?Nothing's happened to--to him?"
"We are going to take him away from the city--thank you," replied Lyddy,impersonally.
She noted with satisfaction that he had run out without his cap, and inhis work-apron. He could not follow her far in such a rig through thepublic streets, that was sure.
"I--I'm awful sorry to have you go," he said, stammeringly. "But I hopeit will be beneficial to your father. I--I---- You see, my own fatheris none too well and we have often talked of his living out of townsomewhere--not so far but that I could run out for the week-end, you know."
Lyddy merely nodded. She would not encourage him by a single word.
"Well--I wish you all kinds of luck!" exclaimed the young fellow, finally,holding out his hand.
"Thank you," returned the very proper Lyddy, and failed to see hisproffered hand, turning promptly and walking away, not even vouchsafinghim a backward look when she turned the corner, although she knew verywell that he was still standing, watching her.
"He may be a very nice young man," thought Lyddy; "but, then----"
Sunday the two girls spent a long hour with their father. They found himprepared for the move in prospect for the family--indeed, he was cheerfulabout it. The house physician had evidently taken time to speak to theinvalid about the change he advised.
"Perhaps by fall I shall be my own self again, and we can come back totown and all go to work. We'll worry along somehow in the country for oneseason, I am sure," said Mr. Bray.
But that was what troubled Lyddy more than anything else. They were allso vague as to what they should do at Hillcrest--how they would be ableto live there!
Father said something about when he used to have a garden in theirbackyard, and how nice the fresh vegetables were; and how mother had oncekept hens. But Lyddy could not see yet how they w
ere to have either agarden or poultry.
They were all three enthusiastic--to each other. And the father was surethat in a fortnight he would be well enough to travel alone to Hillcrest;they must not worry about him. Aunt Jane was to remain in town all thattime, and she promised to report frequently to the girls regarding theirfather's condition.
"I certainly wish I could help you gals out with money," said the oldlady that evening. "You're the only nieces I've got, and I feel as kindlytowards you as towards anybody in this wide world.
"Maybe we can get a chance to sell the farm. If we can, I'll help you thenwith a good, round sum. Now, then! you fix up the old place and make itlook less like the Wrath o' Fate had struck it and maybe some foolishrich man will come along and want to buy it. If you find a customer, I'llpay you a right fat commission, girls."
But this was "all in the offing;" the Bray girls were concerned mostlywith their immediate adventures.
To set forth on this pilgrimage to Hillcrest Farm--and alone--was an eventfraught with many possibilities. Both Lyddy and 'Phemie possessed theirshare of imagination, despite their practical characters; and despitethe older girl's having gone to college for two years, she, or 'Phemie,knew little about the world at large.
So they looked forward to Monday morning as the Great Adventure.
It was a moist, sweet morning, even in the city, when they betookthemselves early to the railway station, leaving Aunt Jane luxuriouslysipping tea and nibbling toast in bed--_this_ time with her nightcap on.
March had come in like a lion; but its lamblike qualities were nowmanifest and it really did seem as though the breath of spring permeatedthe atmosphere--even down here in the smoky, dirty city. The thoughtof growing things inspired 'Phemie to stop at a seed store near thestation and squander a few pennies in sweet-peas.
"I know mother used to put them in just as soon as she could dig at allin the ground," she told her sister.
"I don't believe they'll be a very profitable crop," observed Lyddy.
"My goodness me!" exclaimed 'Phemie, "let's retain a little sentiment,Lyd! We can't eat 'em--no; but they're sweet and restful to look at. I'mgoing to have moon-flowers and morning-glories, too," and she recklesslyexpended more pennies for those seeds.
Their train was waiting when they reached the station and the sistersboarded it in some excitement. 'Phemie's gaiety increased the nearer theyapproached to Bridleburg, which was their goal. She was a plump, rosygirl, with broad, thick plaits of light-brown hair ("molasses-color"she called it in contempt) which she had begun to "do up" only upon goingto work. She had a quick blue eye, a laughing mouth, rather wide, butfine; a nose that an enemy--had laughing, good-natured Euphemia Brayowned one--might have called "slightly snubbed," and her figure was justcoming into womanhood.
Lydia's appearance was entirely different. They did not look much likesisters, to state the truth.
The older girl was tall, straight as a dart, with a dignity of carriagebeyond her years, dark hair that waved very prettily and required littledressing, and a clear, colorless complexion. Her eyes were very darkgray, her nose high and well chiseled, like Aunt Jane's. She was moreof a Phelps. Aunt Jane declared Lyddy resembled Dr. Apollo, or "Polly,"Phelps more than had either of his own children.
The train passed through a dun and sodden country. The late thaw and therains had swept the snow from these lowlands; the unfilled fields werebrown and bare.
Here and there, however, rye and wheat sprouted green and promising,and in the distance a hedge of water-maples along the river bank seemedstanding in a purple mist, for their young leaves were already pushinginto the light.
"There will be pussy-willows," exclaimed 'Phemie, "and hepaticas in thewoods. Think of _that_, Lyddy Bray!"
"And the house will be as damp as the tomb--and not a stick of woodcut--and no stoves," returned the older girl.
"Oh, dear, me! you're such an old grump!" ejaculated 'Phemie. "Why tryto cross bridges before you come to them?"
"Lucky for you, Miss, that I _do_ think ahead," retorted Lyddy with somesharpness.
There was a grade before the train climbed into Bridleburg. Back of thestraggling old town the mountain ridge sloped up, a green and brown wall,breaking the wind from the north and west, thus partially sheltering thetown. There was what farmers call "early land" about Bridleburg, and sometrucking was carried on.
But the town itself was much behind the times--being one of thoseold-fashioned New England settlements left uncontaminated by the millinterests and not yet awakened by the summer visitor, so rife now inmost of the quiet villages of the six Pilgrim States.
The rambling wooden structure with its long, unroofed platform, whichserved Bridleburg as a station, showed plainly what the railroad companythought of the town. Many villages of less population along the lineboasted modern station buildings, grass plots, and hedges. All thatsurrounded Bridleburg's barrack-like depot was a plaza of bare, rolledcinders.
On this were drawn up the two 'buses from the rival hotels--the "NewBrick Hotel," built just after the Civil War, and the Eagle House. Theirrespective drivers called languidly for customers as the passengersdisembarked from the train.
Most of these were traveling men, or townspeople. It was only mid-forenoonand Lyddy did not wish to spend either time or money at the localhostelries, so she shook her head firmly at the 'bus drivers.
"We want to get settled by night at Hillcrest--if we can," she told'Phemie. "Let's see if your baggage and freight are here, first of all."
She waited until the station agent was at leisure and learned that alltheir goods--a small, one-horse load--had arrived.
"You two girls goin' up to the old Polly Phelps house?" ejaculated theagent, who was a "native son" and knew all about the "old doctor," as Dr.Apollo Phelps had been known throughout two counties and on both sidesof the mountain ridge.
"Why, it ain't fit for a stray cat to live in, I don't believe--that houseain't," he added. "More'n twenty year since the old doctor died, and it'sbeen shut up ever since.
"What! you his grandchildren? Sho! Mis' Bray--I remember. She was the olddoctor's daughter by his secon' wife. Ya-as.
"Well, if I was you, I'd go to Pritchett's house to stop first. Can'tbe that the old house is fit to live in, an' Pritchett is your nighestneighbor."
"Thank you," Lyddy said, quietly. "And can you tell me whom we could getto transport our goods--and ourselves--to the top of the ridge?"
"Huh? Why! I seen Pritchett's long-laiged boy in town jest now--LucasPritchett. He ain't got away yet," responded the station agent.
"I ventur' to say you'll find him up Market Street a piece--at Birch'sstore, or the post-office. This train brung in the mail.
"If he's goin' up light he oughter be willin' to help you out cheap. It'sa six-mile tug, you know; you wouldn't wanter walk it."
He pointed up the mountainside. Far, far toward the summit of the ridge,nestling in a background of brown and green, was a splash of vivid white.
"That's Pritchett's," vouchsafed the station agent. "If Dr. Polly Phelps'house had a coat of whitewash you could see it, too--jest to the rightand above Pritchett's. Highest house on the ridge, it is, and a mightypurty site, to my notion."