Hildegarde's Neighbors

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

  CHAPTER XII.

  A-SAILING WE WILL GO.

  "Friends," said Mrs. Merryweather, "the day is before us. What isthe plan of action?"

  "I go a-fishing," said Roger; "and with me Willy, to take hisfirst lesson in bass-fishing."

  "I tinker the wharf," said Phil; "and with me Obadiah, to take hisfirst lesson in useful occupation."

  "Verily and in good sooth," put in Gerald, "the most usefuloccupation I can think of, my peripatetic food-absorber, would beto heave thee into the glassy deep."

  "Like to see you try it!" said Ferguson.

  "Anything to oblige!" replied Obadiah, rising with, alacrity.

  "Don't booby, boys!" said Roger, with quiet authority. "Let otherpeople have a chance to speak."

  "Hilda and I will make a pie!" said Bell; "'which is werse,' saidMr. Peggotty, 'though sich were not my intentions.'"

  "And I have gingerbread to make, and raspberries to pick," saidGertrude, "so Kitty must help me."

  "But what do I see?" cried Gerald, in tragic tones. "A vessel inthe offing, headed in this direction. Now who do you suppose hasthe cheek to come here?"

  "Probably some lunatic is thirsty," said Phil, "and wants a glassof water. You know, Miss Hilda, they come here by the boatload,asking for water, and we show them the lake and tell 'em to helpthemselves. It makes them hop with rage. They say, 'What! do youdrink THIS?' Then, when we tell them that all their water supplycomes from this lake, they grin like a dog and go about the city,--I mean depart on their imbecile way. But these people are alldressed up. Oh, Momus and Comus! There are girls on board! Comeon, Obadiah!"

  The twins vanished, and the others looked curiously at theapproaching craft. It was a small steam launch, gayly adorned withpaint and streamers; in the bow stood a light, girlish figure,waving a handkerchief and gesticulating with fervour.

  "Who can it be?" asked Mrs. Merryweather. "The boat is fromPollock's Cove, isn't it, Roger?"

  "Yes; but I see no one on board that I know. That young ladyevidently thinks she is coming among friends, however. Look! theyare putting out a boat. I will go and see what is wanted."

  He went to the wharf, and the rest waited in some amusement,thinking that a mistake had been made. To their amazement they sawRoger, after a moment's parley, help the young lady out of theboat, which straight-way returned to the launch; before they hadtime to exchange wonderments, she was advancing toward them withoutstretched arms.

  "My dearest, dearest Hildegarde! Do I see you again, after so manyyears? Quel plaisir! what joy!"

  The young lady was dressed in the extreme of fashion, with littleboots, and little gloves, and a dotted veil, and a chiffonparasol, and Hildegarde was folded in a perfumed embrace beforeshe had fairly recognised her visitor.

  "Madge!" she cried, "is it really you?"

  "Myself, cherie! your own Madge. I heard that you were in thewilderness and flew to you. What a change, my dearest, from---"

  "Mrs. Merryweather," said Hildegarde, her cheeks burning, but hervoice quiet and courteous, "this is Margaret Everton, an oldschool-mate of mine. Mrs. Merryweather, Madge, with whom I amstaying. Miss Merryweather, Professor Merryweather, Miss Everton."

  "Oh, hum--mum-m-m-m-m-m!" said Madge, or something that soundedlike it. The Merryweathers welcomed her courteously, and Mrs.Merryweather asked if she had come over from Pollock's Cove.

  "Oh, yes! I am staying there for a day or two. Some friends ofmine are there, charming people, and I heard that Hildegarde washere, and of course I flew to see her. She is my oldest anddearest friend, Mrs. Merryweather."

  "Indeed!" said Mrs. Merryweather, with friendly interest.

  "Yes, indeed. We were at school together, and like twins, exceptfor the difference in colouring. Ah, les beaux jours d'enfance,Hilda, my love! And you are quite, quite unchanged since the happydays at Madame Haut Ton's. 'Queen Hildegarde' we used to call herthen, Miss Merryweather. Yes, indeed! she was the proudest, themost exclusive girl on Murray Hill. The little aristocratic turnof her head when she saw anything vulgar or common was quite tookilling. Turn your head, Hilda, my love!"

  Hildegarde coloured hotly. "Please don't be absurd, Madge!" shesaid.

  "Pray turn your head, Miss Grahame!" said Roger Merryweather,gravely. "I am sure it would interest us."

  Hildegarde shot an imploring glance at him, and turned indesperation to her visitor.

  "It is a long time since I have heard from you, Madge," she said."I am sure you must have a great deal to tell me. If Mrs.Merryweather will excuse us, suppose we go for a little walktogether."

  "Surely, my dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Merryweather, with perhapsunnecessary cordiality.

  But Madge had made herself very comfortable on the verandah, andhad no intention of stirring just yet. Go scrambling about overrocks, and tearing herself to pieces among bushes? Hardly.Besides, one glance had shown her that Professor Merryweather wasuncommonly good-looking. She settled herself gracefully in herchair, and gave a pretty little sigh.

  "Dear child, I am a wretched walker, alas! You know I never wasstrong, and this winter's gaiety quite finished me. I am orderedto rest, positively, this summer, under the severest penalties. Itwas really a terrible winter in New York. Every one said it was awonder the girls were not killed, they went such a pace. Do younever come over to Pollock's Cove, Professor Merryweather? we hadsuch a charming hop there last night; danced till two o'clock,with SUCH music! You must positively come over for the next one;we are to have them every week."

  Roger thanked her, but was not a dancing man, and hops were hardlyin their line out here.

  "Not a dancing man! What a confession, Professor Merryweather! ButI am sure you really dance beautifully; doesn't he, Hilda?"

  "I don't know!" said Hilda, laughing. "He has never asked me todance, Madge."

  "Ah! you are quizzing me. I will never believe he could be soungallant. But Hilda, I hear that really you live in positiveseclusion, like a nun without a convent. My dear, how tragic, topass your best years in this way! I told mamma that I shouldpositively implore you to come to me this winter, and she said itwas my DUTY. To think of YOU, Hilda, forswearing the world! It istoo BIZARRE! But we have not forgotten our little queen on MurrayHill; no, no, dear!"

  "You are mistaken, Madge," said Hilda. "I was in New York forseveral weeks last winter, staying with Aunt Anna; but you were inWashington at the time."

  "Oh, but I heard of you!" cried Madge, archly. "I heard how thewhole Hill was at Miss Grahame's feet, and how Bobby Van Sittartnearly went into a decline because she would not smile on hissuit. I heard--"

  "I think you heard a great deal of nonsense, Madge!" said Hildawith some asperity. "Come! you would like to see something of theisland before the steamer comes to take you back. I will get thecanoe and take you for a paddle."

  Madge recoiled with a pretty shriek.

  "Oh, horrors! Trust myself in a horrid tippy canoe, with a girl?Never, my dear! I value my life too highly, I assure you. Butthere is a sailboat! I dote on sailing, and I am sure ProfessorMerryweather is a superb sailor."

  Professor Merryweather rose with a smile, and would be charmed totake the young ladies out in the Keewaydin.

  "Oh, but, Captain Roger, you were going out fishing!" criedHildegarde, her cheeks crimson with mortification.

  Roger looked at her with a twinkle. "The fishes are not expectedto migrate just yet, and there is a good wind for sailing. Praycome, Miss Grahame!"

  Madge was already on her feet, fluttering with coquetry; andHildegarde, after a despairing glance at Mrs. Merryweather, sawthat she could do nothing but lead the way to the wharf.

  "Won't you come, Bell?" she asked wistfully; but Bell was cruel,and said she must attend to her cooking; adding for the specialedification of the stranger that she had the floor to scrub andthe fish to clean. In silence Hildegarde walked down the wharf;she was thoroughly upset, and turning to look back to the house,it did not restore her composure to see Obadiah and Fergusonstanding on their hands on the piazz
a, waving their feet in theair with every demonstration of frantic joy.

  The little rowboat was unmoored, and a few quick strokes broughtthem alongside the Keewaydin. Hildegarde had never thought itcould be anything but pleasure to her to board this belovedvessel, but she found herself now wishing that sailing had neverbeen invented. She glanced timidly at Roger, but there was noexpression in his face as he handed Madge on board, and repliedgravely to her lively questions. Madge was treading on air. Theyhad told her at Pollock's Cove that she would not be able to get aword out of the handsome young professor; and here he was at herside, perhaps--who knew?--soon to be at her feet. A little absent-minded, to be sure, but they were often that way when a strongimpression had been made. As for poor Hilda, it was reallylamentable to see how utterly she had lost her savoir-faire,living in the wilderness. Here was this charming man, really withthe bel air, and distinguished in some way or other, and she wasas mute as a fish. Really, it was a charity to come and see her.

  "Would you like to take the helm, Miss Hilda?" asked Roger.

  Hilda thanked him with a glance, and took her place at the tillerin silence.

  "Oh, Professor Merryweather! are you really going to trust us toHilda's steering? I am sure, now, you think girls are too ignorantto know anything about that sort of thing. I wonder at you! OURlives may not be of much consequence, because, of course, we areonly silly little girls, but to risk your own life so, really, Iam surprised."

  She paused for the compliment that should follow, but Roger onlysaid, "Bear away, please!" and loosened the sheet a little.

  "Did your ears burn yesterday, Professor Merryweather? I am surethey must have. Everybody was talking about you at the hotel, andthey said you had done something so remarkable,--something about aprism, wasn't it? You remember, Hilda, all the prisms on thechandeliers at Madame Haut Ton's! Do yours go on a chandelier,Professor Merryweather?"

  "Not exactly!" said Roger. "You have a large party at Pollock's, Ibelieve, Miss Everton? I think I heard the Sinclairs say they wereto be there this month."

  "Oh, aren't the Sinclairs enchanting?" cried Madge, with effusion."And isn't Jack simply delicious? I danced with him ten times lastnight, and each dance was better than the last. ProfessorMerryweather, I shall give you no peace till you promise to comeover for the next hop."

  "We are not to expect peace in this world, are we?" said Roger,smiling. "Steady, Miss Grahame! as you are!"

  "I think nautical terms are too delicious!" cried Madge. "And thatreminds me, Hilda, Grace Atherleigh has just come back fromEurope. She has been away three years, you know; in Paris most ofthe time,--dear Paris! Don't you adore it, Professor Merryweather?And she has brought back forty-three dresses. Yes, my dear, it istrue, for I had it from her aunt, Mrs. Gusham. Forty-threedresses, all made this spring. And she had the most horrible timeat the custom-house--"

  "Madge," said Hildegarde, as patiently as she could, "will youplease wait for the stories till we get back to the wharf? I mustattend to the steering, and I cannot listen at the same time."

  "My dear, I am dumb! I only just want to tell you before I forgetit--you know what a wretched memory I have--what happened--"

  "Luff!" said Roger, suddenly. "Luff, child, LUFF!"

  Startled and confused, Hildegarde tried to do as she was told,but, in her distress, did exactly the opposite, and bore away; agrating sound was heard: the boat slid forward a few feet andstopped short.

  "Oh, what have I done?" cried poor Hilda.

  "Nothing of consequence! We have run on a shoal, that is all. Sitsteady, please, ladies!"

  Roger was overboard in an instant, up to his waist in water,pushing at the boat. Hilda sat dumb and scarlet, and even Madgewas subdued for the time, and murmured exclamations under herbreath. It was only a moment; a few vigorous shoves set theKeewaydin afloat again, and Roger leaped lightly in.

  "Perhaps I would better take the tiller this time!" he said. "Thebottom seems to be shoal all about here. And if you and MissEverton will sit a little forward, Hilda, you will be morecomfortable; I fear I cannot help dripping like hoary Nereus allover the stern here."

  He had never called her by her name before. Hildegarde reflectedthat for once she could not blush, being already a Tyrian purple.Of course it slipped out without his knowing it; but she wasconscious of Madge's gaze, and for once was thankful for hercrimson cheeks.

  This incident, or something else, had a quieting effect upon MissEverton, and the sail home was a silent one. Roger was notinclined to talk, and he had a power of silence which was apt toextend to his companions; so they were all relieved when theKeewaydin glided gracefully to her moorings, and Ferguson appearedin the small boat to take them ashore.

  "This is my brother Philip, Miss Everton!" said Roger. "Now if youwill step into the boat, he will take you and Miss Grahame ashore,while I make all fast here. If you will take his hand, and becareful to step in the middle of the boat. In the MIDDLE of theboat, Miss Everton! Ah!" For Madge, with an airy leap, hadalighted full on the gunwale. Down went the boat; the girl triedto regain her balance, but in vain, and after a few moments'frantic struggle, fell headlong into the water.

  Phil had thrown himself to starboard the moment he felt the shockof her alighting, hoping to counterbalance her weight; but he wastoo light. Now, however, he leaned swiftly forward, and caught thelittle French boots as they disappeared under the clear water.There was nothing else to be done. In this ignominious way, feetforemost, poor Madge had to be dragged in over the gunwale,dripping and shrieking.

  "You odious boy!" she cried, as soon as she could find breath."You did it on purpose! You tried to drown me, I know you did!"

  Hildegarde hastened to her assistance. Roger, his face set like arock, but his eyes dancing wickedly, proffered his aid, but waspeevishly repulsed. As for Phil, he could only try to controlhimself, and murmured broken excuses between the gusts of laughterwhich shook him like a reed. Madge was a sorry sight, all her gayplumes broken and dripping, her spotted veil in a little wet mopover one eye, her floating curls reduced to forlorn strings of wethair, her light dress clinging about her. How different from thebright bird of paradise that had so lately fluttered down on thecamp, bent on conquest! Now her only thought was to escape. Mrs.Merryweather met her on the wharf with open arms and a warmblanket, and she was brought to the camp, and dried and warmed asquickly as possible. But Madge's temper, none of the sweetest bynature, was completely spoiled; she had only peevish or sullenanswers for all the expressions of sympathy and condolence thatwere poured out by the kindly campers. It was all the boy's fault,and there was no excuse for him. She ought to have known betterthan to come among such. But here Hilda pressed her hand, and said"Be still!" in a low tone, but with a flash of the eye that soforcibly recalled the "Queen Hildegarde" of old days that Madgesubsided, and whimpered to herself till the steamer came to takeher back to Pollock's Cove.

  When she was gone Hildegarde slipped away, saying that she wouldpick some apples for tea; and on reaching the apple tree, she satdown under its hanging branches and indulged in a good cry, a rareluxury for her. It was a comfort to let the tears come, and totell the friendly tree over and over again that he would neverforgive her; that she was the most imbecile creature that everlived, and that Madge was the only person she deserved to have fora friend, and that, now the others had found her out, the soonershe went home to her mother the better. Her mother would notexpect her to be sensible; her mother knew better than to expectthings of her. She was not fit to be with these people, who wereso terribly clever, and knew so many things: and so on and so on,in the most astonishing way, our quiet, self-possessed girlsobbing and crying as if her heart would break, utterly amazed atherself, and wondering all the time what was the matter with her,and whether she would ever be able to stop.

  She stopped suddenly enough; for Roger, coming through the fieldswith the milk, heard this piteous sobbing, and setting down hiscans, parted the branches of the apple tree, saying in his kindestvoice: "Why, my Kitty,
my Pretty, what is the matter with you? whohurt my little--I--I beg your pardon, Miss Grahame!"

  Hildegarde felt the hand of fate very heavy on her, but was quitehelpless, and sobbed harder than ever.

  What was a poor professor to do? Fortunately, Roger had plenty ofsisters, and knew that a girl did not kill herself when she cried.After a moment's thought, in which he reminded himself severelythat he was getting to be an old fellow, and might be this child'suncle, he came under the tree and sat down on the grass.

  "Can you tell me what troubles you?" he asked, still in the gentlevoice that was rather specially Kitty's privilege. "You have hadno bad news?"

  Hilda shook her head.

  "Perhaps if you were to tell me what the trouble is, I could helpyou; or would you rather I would go away and not bother you?"

  No! Hildegarde, to her own amazement, would rather he stayed.Whereupon, Roger, drawing from his experience of girls, perceivedthat there was nothing to do but sit and wait till the storm hadspent itself. So he picked the apples within his reach, andreflected on the feminine character.

  Presently a small and shaken voice said from under thehandkerchief, "I--am so sorry--you got wet, Captain Roger!"

  "Got wet?" said Roger, vaguely. He was generally more or less wet,being an amphibious creature, and did not for the moment graspHildegarde's meaning.

  "I ran--the--boat aground, and you jumped overboard, and got--allwet!" and Hildegarde sobbed afresh.

  "You don't mean--" said Roger. "You are not troubled about THAT?"

  But it appeared that Hildegarde was troubled about that.

  "My dear child, do you think I did not see that it was not yourfault? You were doing beautifully, if that--if Miss Everton hadlet you alone for an instant. And do you think I mind a wetting,or twenty wettings? Miss Hilda, I thought you knew better thanthat."

  "I was so stupid!" said Hildegarde, wiping her eyes, and trying tospeak evenly. "I thought you were very angry, because you were sosilent. I thought you would never--"

  "Silent, was I? Well, you know I am in a brown study half thetime. Isn't that why they call me Roger the Codger? But thistime,--oh, I remember! I was trying to make out how that shoalcame to be there, when it is not buoyed out on the map. Come, MissHilda, you must laugh now!"

  And Hilda laughed, and dried her eyes, and looked up,

  "All kinder smily round the lips, And teary round the lashes."

  "That's right!" said Roger, heartily. "Now you shall be Kitty, andwe will---we will shake hands and be friends, and eat an appletogether. Kitty and I always do that when we have had a tiff."

  So they did; and the apples on that tree were the best apples inthe world.