CHAPTER XX
THE POOL
The next day being Sunday Miss Lacey vetoed the excursion after berriesas a snare to Benny Merritt's feet, which should be turned toward thelittle island church, whether or not they would be.
"Never mind," said Edna philosophically; "the longer we wait the moreberries we shall find. We can count on good weather for some time now."
"You wouldn't want to sail anyway to-day," said Miss Lacey. "It looksblue enough, but there are white caps left over from yesterday thatwould never get _me_ to ride on them, I can tell you."
"The Sound isn't rough," replied Edna; "but we'll all be good girls andwrite letters. Come down to the Fir Ledges with us, Miss Lacey. We'llwrite there."
"Thank you, I've outgrown that," replied Miss Martha briskly. "Sit withyour heels higher than your head, and no decent place to lean, and justat the most important moment have the wind double your paper over orblow it away. No, thank you; but there's room at the table for all ofus if you'll be sensible."
The table was a round one placed in an angle of the spacious piazza,which had been glassed in as protection from the prevailing wind.
Here Miss Martha was wont to gather her writing materials, and with herback to the view, not for fear of its temptations, but in order to geta better light, indite many an underlined epistle to her friends athome. She sometimes had Edna's company, but that could not be to-day.The young hostess was enjoying too much exhibiting the charms of herbeloved habitat to the guest who thrilled in such responsiveappreciation at the moments and places where others had often proveddisappointing.
"No bribe could induce us to be sensible," was Edna's response to MissLacey's suggestion. "We are going to the Fir Ledges, and there is noknowing when you will see us again."
"Oh, yes, there is," returned Miss Martha dryly. She was seatingherself for her enjoyable morning. She was going to send Selina Lanesome of Jenny's receipts. "There will be halibut and egg sauce, lemonmeringue pie, and various other things served in this house at 1.30,"she went on, "and I have an idea that you'll take an interest in them."
Edna and Sylvia exchanged a thoughtful look. "Perhaps we may," saidEdna.
"I'm sure of it," added Sylvia with conviction.
Miss Lacey's satisfied laugh followed the pair down the woodland road,and she looked after them.
"Everything has turned out so well," she thought. "I remember how thissummer stood up in my mind as one of the obstacles to letting Sylviacome to me, for I didn't see where I could leave her while I came toHawk Island,--and now, just look. I really do think Edna has taken afancy to the child, though even _I_ can't always judge of Edna'sfeelings by her actions."
Miss Martha looked fixedly at the side of the house, her pen poised inher hand. She was weighing the question as to whether it would be wellto mention to Selina Lane her niece's presence at Anemone Cottage. Ifshe spoke of her, it might lead in future to embarrassing questions; ifshe did not speak of her, Selina was liable to learn of Sylvia fromsome other source; for no way had yet been discovered of permanentlyconcealing anything from Miss Lane, and that spinster, so fond ofjumping at conclusions that she frequently overleaped them, would besure to decide that Miss Martha was ashamed of her niece.
To tell or not to tell! She was still balancing her pen and thequestion when a firm tread crunched the gravel behind her, and turningshe beheld a man advancing to the steps.
He was dressed in outing flannels, and his cap was presumably in hispocket. At least he had none on his head. Miss Lacey rose with a startand hurried to the steps.
"Why, Mr. Dunham, I was never so surprised in my life!" she exclaimed.
He smiled. "I was told that you would look more kindly upon a surpriseparty at ten in the morning than at ten at night," he answered.
His eyes were level with Miss Martha's as she stood two steps above himon the piazza, and he pressed her hard, little, unresponsive hand. Butif her hand was hard her heart was not, and it was with muchappreciation of the visitor's attractive personality that she urged himto take his choice of the piazza chairs.
"This is a great place," he remarked, as she fluttered back to hertable, and he dropped on the piazza rail. "I've never been on theislands before,--only sailed past them."
"But how did you get here so early? Were you at the Island House allnight?"
"Not at all. When Mr. Johnson returned on Friday he found Judge Trentand myself in possession. This morning I went out with Cap'n Lem to hispound, so was ready for an early start over here; and it surely is agreat place."
Dunham looked off upon the rolling billows breaking in snow here andthere above unseen ledges.
"Your clothes are wet. You had a rough sail."
"In spots, yes; but it's rather sheltered between here and the TideMill. You're looking well, Miss Lacey."
"Who wouldn't in such a place," she rejoined; "and just think, Mr.Dunham, my niece is here."
"So I understand." The young man gave a tentative glance around at thehouse.
"Oh, they're not in. Miss Derwent is never in, unless it storms the wayit did yesterday, and then she's liable to be in oilskins hanging on tosome rock and scaring me out of my seven senses. Sylvia's just likeher. They were both out yesterday."
"I'm glad to learn that your niece is strong enough for that," returnedDunham.
Miss Lacey made a gesture. "She did it, anyway." She lowered her voiceto a confidential pitch. "Haven't things worked around wonderfully, Mr.Dunham?" The speaker drew back, giving him a significant look.
"How do you mean?" asked Dunham cautiously.
"Since that day we were at Hotel Frisbie. I haven't dared look to seehow many new gray hairs that week gave me, and here we are, all so calmand happy. Miss Derwent being so kind and hospitable to Sylvia, andnone of my doings at all. You see, it would have been such animpossible thing for me to suggest that my niece should visit here, butit came around in the most natural way through Thinkright."
"It is fine," returned Dunham. Sylvia's name still meant for him onlythe dew-laden eyes that beseeched him as he left her at the Associationthat day in Boston. He felt some curiosity as to how Miss Lacey hadfinally made her peace, and he felt sure that she would like to tellhim; but the younger Miss Lacey's affairs were none of his.
"I'm sorry not to find Miss Derwent," he said.
"Oh, you'll find her," returned Miss Lacey briskly. "You will stay todinner with us, of course."
"Certainly not," returned Dunham quickly.
"Why, you will. We have it at noon, you know."
"In these togs?" asked John incredulously--"Miss Derwent?"
"Oh, hers aren't any better," returned Miss Martha. "That's the islandfashion."
"No,--I'll go to the--what did you say? There's some sort of a hotelhere, isn't there?"
"Yes. Some sort," returned Miss Lacey, "but not your sort. Don't sayanother word about it, Mr. Dunham. Why, Miss Derwent would bescandalized,--an old friend like you. You said you were, didn't you?"she added, with sudden questioning.
"Yes, so old that I shall be new," returned Dunham, smiling. "I onlyhope she'll remember me."
"Why didn't Judge Trent come with you? We should have been very pleasedto see him at dinner, too," said Miss Lacey, with a little excess offormality.
"I did ask him, but he said he wasn't tired of terra firma yet."
"Has he come to stay?"
"Yes, for a while. We've locked up the offices and are going to forgetdull care together. He's devoted to this region, isn't he?"
"Yes, and what is more interesting and wonderful--to Sylvia," returnedMiss Martha, again dropping her voice as if there might beeavesdroppers in Arcady. "That is, he must be. He has given her theloveliest boat."
"I saw it the evening we came. Mr. Johnson was showing it to him."
"What did he say about its name?" eagerly.
"Its name?"
"Yes. The Rosy Cloud."
"Why,--nothing."
"Didn't Thinkright ask him anything?"
"Not that I remember."
"Has Judge Trent said anything to you about Sylvia?"
"Not a word."
Miss Lacey, who had been leaning forward, flung herself back in herchair.
"If there's anything exasperating on earth it's a man!" she exclaimed."Well"--for John laughed, "excuse me, Mr. Dunham, you can't help it;but men never know when anything is interesting. Now I can tell youjust where you'll find those girls, and I'm going to let you go. Youtake that path through the woods, and it'll bring you into an openfield, but you'll still see a path. Keep right on till if you tookanother step you'd fall about fifty feet and have to swim. There you'llfind a huddle of ledges and ravines and brave little firs that havehooked their roots into the rock somehow, and there you'll find also acouple of girls who went down to write letters, and I know haven'twritten a word; and do keep an eye on your watch and get them here byquarter past one. Things are so much nicer when they are hot and good,and Edna is no more to be trusted than if she was five. If she happenedto get to watching a barnacle eat its dinner she'd never once think ofher own."
Just at present Miss Derwent was certainly not thinking of dinner. Thetide was falling, and she and her companion were seated amid thesighing firs and watching its retreat; that is, Sylvia was watching,and Edna was reading aloud to her. At last Edna looked up from her bookand leaned forward to look over the ledge.
"It is low enough," she said. "Let us go down there, Sylvia. I want toshow you the pools."
Leaving their books and papers covered from the breeze with a shawl,the girls climbed down the rough rocks.
"We call this the giant's bath-tub," said Edna, when they reached anoblong hollow rock brimming with brine.
"I'd hate to take a bath with some of those creatures," remarkedSylvia, her eyes on certain small objects of various shapes.
"I, too; and see how crusted the rock is with barnacles. How theiredges do cut! Dear little things, they'll go to sleep now till the tidecomes back again."
"Go to sleep!" laughed Sylvia. "As if they were anything but graystones!"
"Indeed, you are mistaken. I wonder if I could wake one of thosefellows up," and Miss Derwent splashed water over one of the stonyclusters. They remained lifeless.
"The tide has left them too recently," she said. "They're not hungry."
"Oh, Edna,--I mean Miss Derwent."
"No, call me Edna. I'd like you to. Sometimes I can make them openthose stiff shells and put out five little fingers to gather in theirfood."
Sylvia shook her head. "You've told me lots of fairy stories the lasttwo days, but that is the most improbable. What are you doing?"
"Getting you a sea urchin." Edna had rolled her sleeves to the shoulderand was plunging her arm into the water. She brought out a spiny prize.
"What is it covered with? Wet grass?" asked Sylvia, regarding theblackish object with disfavor. "Why, you said those charming lavendercandlesticks of yours, all embroidered in tiny holes, were seaurchins."
"So they are, but this is smaller. I'm going to try to get you some bigones. Do you care for starfish?" Edna swooped upon one and drew itforth waving its pink legs helplessly.
"Of course!" exclaimed Sylvia excitedly. "How lovely. I'm going to havea sea cabinet."
"Oh, there," cried Edna, "I see a big urchin now, but I'm afraid Ican't get him!"
"Can't?" exclaimed a voice incredulously. "He'll give himself to you,"and Dunham dropped lightly from the rock above the absorbed girls, whosat up suddenly to find him standing beside them.
Sylvia was first to recognize the apparition. "Mr. Dunham!" sheexclaimed, and the blood pulsed in her ears with the voice of the sea.
"Why, it is Mr. Dunham," said Edna, and leaning on her wet hand shereached up the other to greet him. Then he shook hands with Sylvia.
"It's a good thing you carry around those curls for people to know youby, Miss Lacey," he said.
Her upturned eyes were dark with excitement, her sudden color was high.There were little freckles across the bridge of her piquant nose. Shewas alive and glowing in every line.
"Where did you spring from?" asked Edna, brushing back a lock of hairwith the back of her wet hand.
"First from the office, then from the Tide Mill, later from your housepropelled by Miss Lacey, and ultimately from that rock, to discover bywhat magic there was some big urchin that Miss Derwent couldn't get. Inever knew one who wasn't at her service,--the regiment headed bymyself."
"On the contrary," returned Edna, "I distinctly remember when mothertried to get you to come to us here and you refused."
"Not refused. Regretted with tears. This is my party call,--the firstopportunity I've had to make it."
"Well, you see now what you missed." Edna waved her hand toward thelandscape.
"Don't I! From the moment of leaving the Tide Mill until I discoveredyour blonde and brunette heads bending over this pool my pilgrimage hasbeen one long reminiscent wail."
"Oh, of course if you talk that way you will restore my complacency.When did you come to the Tide Mill?"
"Friday."
"In time for the storm, then."
"Yes, but Judge Trent was with me. We sang,--
'You and I together, Love, Never mind the weather, Love.'"
Edna looked at him with curiosity and approval. A hundred incidents oftheir old friendship were returning to her thought. It was almost thesame boyish head and face that topped this tall personage.
"You're just as silly as ever, John, aren't you?" she said. "I'm soglad."
He laughed toward Sylvia. "There's a reference for you, Miss Lacey."
"You please her. What more can you ask?" returned Sylvia.
It had all, all been a preparation for this moment. For this causeThinkright had found her and brought her to the farm and taught her hisphilosophy. For this cause she had risen from the plane where Nat andBohemia had been possibilities. For this cause Edna had given her hergracious friendship. The Prince and Princess had met in her presence,and she was as sure it was meeting never to part as she was that herearthly ideals could never be severed from theirs.
Edna and John both laughed at the earnestness of her naive reply.
"She intends to keep me in my place, doesn't she?" he said to Edna.
"Evidently," she replied, "but we're both willing you should sit down.Won't you?"
"I think I'd rather look at myself in your mirror. Isn't that what youwere doing when I descended upon you?"
"No. We have no need here for mirrors from month's end to month's end,for we never wear hats."
"Tush, tush," returned Dunham, lowering himself with some care amongthe projections of the inhospitable rock. "I'm sure you both patronizemirrors for the pure pleasure of it. In the minute I stood waiting andwatching up there I expected to see you turn into--who waswhat's-his-name, Narcissus? Narcissi, then."
"Nonsense. You should use more local color. Say Anemones; but I warnyou, we don't allow pretty speeches up here."
"That's unfortunate," returned Dunham, "for I've been in Seaton formonths, and there's nobody to make love to there but Miss La--" Henearly bit his tongue off in the suddenness of his halt, but he didsave himself. "What is in this pool, then, if not starry eyes?" headded suddenly, bending over the stone trough with interest.
"Star_fish_," replied Edna. "See this one. I pulled it out just beforeyou came."
The starfish was clinging pinkly to the rock, and beyond him lay theurchin, the blackness of its draggled spines turning to green as itdried in the sun.
"Who's your friend?" asked John, regarding it. "Looks like a miniaturePaderewski. Say, he's getting up steam."
In fact, the urchin had begun dragging itself in a stately and scarcelyperceptible progress across the rock toward its native pool. The threewatched it.
"Isn't there any law here against speeding?" asked Dunham with concern."First water mobile I ever saw. Take his number, somebody. It's ascandal."
"He's number one," said Sylvia. "We're going
to get some more. I 'mgoing to have a cabinet."
"You are? Well, I don't think a sport like that would be a safe memberof any cabinet."
"Here. I'll show you the urchin I couldn't get," said Edna. "You'llreach him for us. My arm isn't long enough. See that big dark spot downin the corner? That is Sylvia's candlestick. A beautiful, lilac,embroidered candlestick."
"Who'd have thought it!" responded Dunham, rolling up his sleeves. In aminute the dripping prize was being offered to Sylvia, who clasped herhands and drew back.
"Would you mind putting him down?" she said. "He looks so bigand--whiskery."
"Oh, I'm ashamed of you, Sylvia," laughed Edna. "Now you have to findanother just his size, Mr. Dunham. She has to have a pair."
"She does, eh?" returned John resignedly. "I don't know what I'll drawout of this grab bag next," and he plunged his arm in again.
"No, no, you mustn't do that!" cried Edna,--"clouding up the water likethat. We have to peer. Come and peer, Sylvia." They all leaned over theside of the pool. "See that little starfish? He's lost a leg already inhis short career; and those pretty anemones! Why didn't I bring a pail.I shall make an aquarium for you on the piazza, and we'll haveanemones, and undistinguished urchins who will never be in a cabinet orhold candles, and starfish, and barnacles. Oh, there's a baby, John.Quick, _there_! Oh, I can get it myself." She reached down in a flashand drew forth a tiny urchin.
"You startled me so," said John plaintively. "You said a baby, and Icouldn't see even a bulrush."
"Oh, I shall educate you in time," returned Edna. "There, Sylvia, thatwill be the infant member of your cabinet."
"It seems pretty low down to kidnap a fellow of that size," remarkedDunham.
"But she's going to have a complete set of urchins,--from a littlegreen pea to a personage."
"When you reach the personage class, remember me, Miss Sylvia. I haveother references than this scoffing maiden."
Sylvia smiled. "But perhaps you wouldn't care to carry candles."
"Not care to burn candles before you? Of course I should."
"He's at it again, Sylvia," sighed Edna. "It's dreadful to have astarved man on our hands."
"Starved. That reminds me. Pardon me, ladies, if I look at my watch.Ah, half an hour's grace. I am going to ask you both to dine with meto-day. The procession moves at one sharp. If there are any signs ofreluctance on the part of the hostess and her guest, I am to take onein each hand, with whatever fishy impedimenta cannot be lost, andrepair with you to your cot. Miss Martha has spoken."
Edna laughed. "I'd forgotten, John, just what a shy flower you were!"she said.