CHAPTER XI
AN OUTING AND AN INVITATION
The next week came that never-to-be-forgotten outing which gave theNorthmore girls their first glimpse of Boston, and their firstacquaintance with the sea. Till the morning they started there was notalk of anything else. Stella, who knew better than her cousins whatoccasion might demand of dress in a stylish watering-place, bent all herartistic skill to the revising of garments, and even Kate and Esther,whose wardrobes were mostly new, found some chance for retouchings, someneed of new laces and ribbons.
For the first time since their coming, their grandfather really felthimself a little neglected. Occasionally, as he passed through the roomwhere the three girls sat busy with sewing and the eager discussion ofstyles and colors, he murmured solemnly, "Vanity of vanities, all isvanity;" and he not only prayed feelingly at family devotions that theyoung of his household might learn to adorn themselves with "theornament of a meek and quiet spirit," but he selected once for hismorning reading a chapter in which warnings were pronounced againstthose who set their hearts on "changeable suits of apparel, and mantles,and wimples, and crisping-pins." However, he was as anxious as any onethat his granddaughters should enjoy themselves, and his good-willtoward this particular excursion was sufficiently indicated by thetrifle which he quietly added to the pin-money of each when they startedoff.
It does not concern our story, and would take too long to tell all thesights and happenings of the days that followed. Never did two moreinterested or more appreciative girls than Kate and Esther Northmorewalk about the streets of Boston, or take in the meanings and memorieswhich it held in its keeping, and in its dear vicinity.
At Cambridge, as they walked about the grounds of Harvard, whom shouldthey meet but Mr. Philip Hadley? A remarkable coincidence it seemed atthe time, though Kate remembered later that Stella had set out withtolerable distinctness the time when they expected to be there, withother details of the Boston visit, that night at the farm.
After that, he had part in all their excursions, and a charming additionhe made to the party. Stella was a good chaperon, but he was evenbetter, for he had the _entree_ of a dozen places which they could nothave entered without him, and whether it was acquaintance, or a liberaluse of money, never were more gracious attentions bestowed on a party ofsight-seers. He was really a delightful companion; a good talker, a goodlistener, and so perfectly at leisure that he was ready to act on theslightest hint of anything that interested the others.
It was a suggestion of Stella's, and a lucky one, as she congratulatedherself, which led to the most unexpected incident of the whole visit.They had been talking, she and Mr. Hadley, of Copleys, as they walkedthrough the Boston art gallery, and he had mentioned suddenly that therewas one in his own home; after which came the quick invitation to make avisit that afternoon to the house on Beacon Street.
The others accepted with no special emotion, but Stella was radiant,and, Bostonian as she called herself, it was she who felt most curiositywhen they stood, a few hours later, before the door which bore the nameof Hadley, in the long row of brown stone fronts. The house was closedfor the summer, and Mr. Hadley had made no attempt to open any roomsexcept the library, but _this_! It occupied all one side of the longhall on the second floor; a room filled with books and pictures andmarbles. "A perfect place," as Stella declared, clasping her hands in atransport of artistic satisfaction.
There were books on books. Indeed, the Northmore girls, accustomed asthey were to a fair library at home, had not realized that so many bookswere ever gathered in one room, outside of public places; and there werepictures beside pictures. There was a Corot at which the heir of thehouse had not even hinted; and the Copley hung beside a celebratedMillais. Whether the young man most enjoyed the keen appreciation ofStella, or the frank, delighted wonder of the others, is a question. Hedid the honors of the place with the easy indifference of one to themanner born, and it seemed a mere matter of course, when he called theattention of his guests to one choice possession after another, to rareold copies of books and deluxe editions.
Stella's delight seemed to mount with every moment, but Esther grew soquiet at last that the others rallied her on her soberness. She flushedwhen Stella declared that she looked almost melancholy, and said, with aglance at the shelves, that one should not be expected to be merry insuch company.
But, truth to tell, her thoughts had company just then that no otherknew. There had come back to her, oddly perhaps, the memory of a daywhen Morton Elwell showed her the shelf of books in his little room. Itwas not a handsome shelf--he had made it himself; and the books he hadbought, one after another, with savings which meant wearing the old hatand the patch on the boots. How proud he was of those books! There wasno easy indifference in his manner as he stood before them with hisshining face, and his hand had almost trembled as he passed itcaressingly over their plain cloth bindings.
The servant in charge of the house presently answered Mr. Hadley's ringby bringing up a tray with the daintiest of lunches, and he himself setsteaming the samovar which stood in a cosey corner. He could presideover pretty china almost as gracefully as Stella herself, when it cameto that. Altogether it was a delectable hour which they spent in thatlibrary, and the girls all said so in their various fashions when theyparted with Mr. Hadley. Esther, perhaps, said it with more feeling thaneither of the others. She felt as if she had been part of something shehad dreamed of all her life, and yet--it was almost provoking, too--thatold, insistent memory had half spoiled the dream.
From Boston to Nahant was the move next on their programme. The placewas in its glory then, one of the prettiest of the seaside resorts; andfor a week they did everything that anybody does at the shore.
Oh, the delight of it all! The pleasure of sitting on the level sandsand watching the tides creep in and out; the transports and trepidationsof the first dip into the great salt bath, and the unimagined joy offlying over the bright blue water under sails stretched by a gloriousbreeze! If anything _could_ have made Kate waver in her conviction thather native state was best favored of all in the length and breadth ofthe land, it would have been, at moments, the thought of its distancefrom the sea; and it was a long, devouring look, almost a tearful look,that she sent back at the blue expanse when the hour came to leave it.
The outing had been a complete success, from beginning to end. They weretoo tired to talk of it, as they rode on the train back to Esterly. Tolook musingly out of the windows was all that any of them cared to do.But words came fast again as they rode back to the farm with theirgrandfather, who was waiting for them, of course, at the depot; andfaster still when, with Tom and Aunt Elsie as listeners, they were allseated at the family supper.
"We've had more fun than we expected, positively more," Kate exclaimed,"and I shall never take a bit of stock again in that idea that thinkingabout things beforehand is better than actually having them. It musthave been started by somebody who was too old to enjoy things."
And her grandfather, after grunting a little over the last clause, andcalling attention to the fact that _he_, at least, had never seen thetime when he could say of any rational enjoyments, "I have no pleasurein them," was inclined to agree with the sentiment.
"Things don't turn out just as you expect them to, of course," heremarked reflectively. "I never knew it to happen that a body didn'tmiss _something_ of what he'd counted on, but then, on the other hand,something's sure to turn up that you warn't looking for, and you mustset one over against the other. There are worse things than old age tokeep folks from enjoying themselves," he added acutely, "and one of themis being so taken up with yourself that you feel abused if your ownplans don't work out to a T. For my part, I shouldn't wonder if therewas more pleasure to be got out of surprises, anyhow."
The allusion to unexpected things of course suggested the meeting withMr. Hadley, and then followed a full account of all his subsequentattentions. The old gentleman was delighted, and wished he could havebeen with them when they made that visit
to the house on Beacon Street,a wish which it is doubtful whether the girls fully shared. They did notdemur to it, however, nor yet to his evident impression that the youngman's gratitude for the light which had been thrown on the history ofhis forefathers had led him to extend these pleasant courtesies to his,Ruel Saxon's, descendants.
Tom was the first to suggest the doubt. "Say, did the nabob talk all thetime about his ancestors?" he demanded of Kate, as they sat on thewood-pile after supper, a perch to which she declared she was glad tocome back after her fortnight's absence.
"Of course he didn't," she replied. "I don't think he spoke of themonce, except when he showed us some of their portraits in the library."
"I thought so," said Tom, kicking a birch stick down from the pile, andsending it with accurate aim against the instrument which he called a"saw-horse" and she called a "saw-buck." Then, looking her in the eyes,he asked coolly, "Which of 'em is it, Stelle or Esther?"
"Both of 'em, I reckon," said Kate, with equal coolness.
"It'll be one of them in particular if it keeps on like this," said Tom,"and I'll bet a shilling it'll be Esther."
For once she did not take up the wager. It had been thrown down betweenthem so often during the summer that nothing had prevented their bothbecoming bankrupt except the standing quarrel as to the amount involved,Tom maintaining steadily that it was sixteen and two-third cents, onesixth of a dollar, and she insisting with equal obstinacy that it wastwelve and a half. This time she let it pass.
"Tom, you're a goose," she said severely; and then she added: "I supposeyou don't think it's possible that he's at all impressed with _me_. I'dlike to have you know that we had a great deal of conversation. Why"--shethrew a shade of weariness into her voice--"I had to go over most of theground that I've been going over with you ever since I came. We had _r_up, of course. I really could not help speaking of it. One would thinkthere was something actually profane about that poor little letter, theway the Bostonians avoid using it. And when I'd fairly made out my case,and he couldn't deny it, he had to pretend, just as you do, that weWesterners make too much of it, when we don't at all; and as if _that_was any answer!"
"The way you do," observed Tom, sympathetically, "when I show you thatyou folks mix up the wills and shalls so there's no telling which fromt'other, and you get back at me by declaring that we say 'hadn't ought'and a few things of that sort."
And then they fell to it again in the old fashion, Kate protesting theabsolute incapacity of the average mind for grasping the finedistinctions between those two auxiliaries, which, thank Heaven, havestill not wholly lost their special uses on our Eastern coast, andfinally, after various thrusts at local usage, ending with the chargethat New Englanders more than dwellers in the West are guilty ofdropping from their speech the final _g_, a point on which the impartiallistener might possibly have thought that she had a little the best ofit.
And while the good-natured dispute went on, another and more importantconversation was being held in the house on the old county road, whereEsther sat with Aunt Katharine in the growing twilight. She had slippedaway from her grandfather's as soon as supper was over to make the call.There had been so many of these calls since her three days' visit therethat no one was surprised at them any more or offered to accompany her.It was recognized by all that there was something of genuine intimacybetween these two, an intimacy at which every one smiled except Kate,whose dislike of her lonely old relative seemed to increase with hersister's fondness.
Aunt Katharine had heard the click of the gate as the girl came up, andfor once she had hobbled down the walk to greet a guest. There wasalmost a hungry look in her eyes as they searched the bright young face,and her brother had not inquired more eagerly than she for theparticulars of the trip. And Esther went over it all, with a cheerypleasure that warmed her listener's heart, talking as she might havetalked to her mother of the things she had seen and felt, gayly, withoutreserve, and sure always of the interest of the other.
It was a rare hour to Aunt Katharine. Not in years had any fresh younglife brought its happiness so willingly to her, and her heart respondedwith a glow and fulness like the sudden out-leaping of a brook in thespring.
At the last Esther had said, a little wistfully, that she was glad thesedays had come so late in this summer visit. It was almost ended now, butits climax of pleasure had been reached, and the memory of it would be ajoy forever.
"Do you have to go back, both of you, the first of September?" AuntKatharine asked suddenly. "Why couldn't _you_ stay a while longer? Theydon't need you at home for anything special, do they?"
The idea took definite shape as she caught the outlines of it, and herkeen eyes kindled. "You like things here better 'n Kate does, and you'reolder. S'pose you should stay at the farm and see what a New Englandfall is like--you can't know your mother's country without knowingthat--and then spend the winter in Boston with Stella. She'd like it, andshe'd let you into a lot of things you want to know about. I never caredmuch for pictures and music and such, but you do; and you or' to have ataste of 'em while you're young."
She paused, and Esther said with a gasp: "Oh, that would be glorious,glorious! But the expense of it, Aunt Katharine! Father couldn'tpossibly afford to let me do it, and I couldn't pay my own way, youknow, as Stella does."
"I wasn't counting on your father's bearing the expense, nor youeither," said Miss Saxon, dryly. "I guess I could afford to do that muchfor you, and a few other things too, if you took a notion to 'em." Andthen a tenderer note crept into her voice as she added, "I missed mostof the things I wanted when I was a girl, and I'd like to make sure ofit that _you_ fared better."
There was no talking for a minute or two after that. The delights thatseemed to open before Esther through the avenues of this plan almosttook her breath away, and the generosity that proposed it made her eyesdim with tears. It was Aunt Katharine, not she, who could discuss itcoolly, and to the old woman the thought seemed to grow every momentdearer. There were friends of hers in Boston--not Stella's friends, sheadded, with a peculiar smile--people who would be good to Esther for hersake. Perhaps Esther would come to feel toward them as she herself did,and then she looked at the girl for a moment as if taking her measurewith reference to something larger than she knew.
The dew was falling and the whippoorwills were calling across the hillsthrough the twilight that had deepened almost into night when Estherrose at last to go home. She had never kissed Aunt Katharine before, butthe old woman drew her face down to hers and held it for an instant asshe bade her good night. Then she said almost brusquely:--
"You'd better hurry home now. They'll think I've lost my wits entirelyto be keeping you so long. And you've got that letter to write to yourmother. Tell her everything, and be sure it goes in the morning."
And Esther, with feet almost as light as the wings of the night birds,hurried across the fields to tell the surprising news to the twocircles--the household at home, and the one at her grandfather's.