Rilla of the Lighthouse

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER XVII. THE BLUE JEWELS.

  Gene Beavers received a night-letter from Doctor Winslow on the followingday, and it contained its full quota of words. The sentiment of it was:

  "You scamp, you ought to be well chastised for running away, but, after all, Nurse Rilla may be able to do more for you than your old Uncle Lem, so stay as long as Ezra Bassett will keep you. Learn to tend the light so that you may be of use if the need arises."

  "May I?" Gene asked, looking up eagerly from the letter into the face ofthe old man, who sat near the stove, cap pulled well down over his eyes,smoking hard on his corncob pipe.

  There was a struggle going on in the heart of Captain Ezra. Here was oneof those city chaps who for years he had hated on general principlessettling down in his home, it would seem, to be a boarder for anindefinite length of time. Then another thought presented itself as thecaptain noticed how frail the lad really was, and he questioned his ownheart: "What if 'twas yo're boy needin' some-un to help him get strong,Ezra Bassett? How would yo' want him to be treated? Turned out and let todrift on the rocks, maybe? I snum--No!"

  The old man rose and vigorously shook the ashes down from the stovebefore he replied: "Sure, yo' can be larnin' all thar is to know aboutthe light, I reckon, if 'twould interest yo', son, but Lem knows I'mjealous of that big lamp. I won't even let Rilly gal polish up the lens."

  The girl, her face flushed from the heat of the stove, where she stoodfrying fish and potatoes in a big black skillet, laughed over hershoulder as she said: "I reckon Grand-dad loves the lamp better'n he doesme, I reckon he does!" Then it was that the expression of infinitetenderness which Gene had noticed before appeared in the eyes of the oldman as he replied earnestly: "Thar's nothin' this world holds that I lovebetter'n you, fust mate"; then he added, in another tone, "An', yourascal, you know it."

  Gene slept on a cot in the kitchen, and as the days passed his strengthrapidly returned. The weather continued sunny and bracing and although itwas nearing the holiday season the midwinter blizzards had not arrived.

  Muriel had told the lad all about the treasure box in her cave. A weekafter the arrival of the boy on Windy Island they were climbing about onthe cliffs when they found themselves near the small opening to the cave."Come on in. I'll show yo' the box," Rilla said.

  Gene, really curious concerning the treasure that had been given up bythe sea, went in and watched with interest as the girl lifted themirror-lined cover of what he recognized to be a water-tight steamertrunk of foreign make.

  The sea-green dress, he agreed, was wonderful. "I judge that it isParisian," he said. Then, as he saw the question in her hazel eyes, hetold about the City of Paris, where he had been the summer before. Hedescribed the beautiful shops, the lights, the damsels, and the rare andexquisite fabrics from which their gowns were fashioned.

  "I reckon this box belongs to one of those beautiful ladies," Muriel saidat last.

  Gene nodded. "I haven't a doubt about it," he agreed. "Have you lookedthrough it thoroughly to see if you could find the name of the owner?"

  The girl shook her red-brown head. "I cal'lated thar'd been a wreck, for'twas a high storm as sent this box in. 'Twa'n't hereabouts, but I reckonit was far out at sea."

  "Undoubtedly you are right, Muriel, but let's look for some possible clueas to the former owner's identity."

  The lad and the girl, as eager as two children, were on their knees inthe soft sand of the cave. The dress had been carefully laid to one side.A small box of exquisite workmanship was found and when the cover waslifted the girl uttered an exclamation of joy, and in the dim light Genethought her eyes like stars.

  No wonder that Muriel was elated, for in that box there was a set ofjewels of the most entrancing blue. Never had she seen anything just likeit in the sea or in the sky. It seemed to be alive, that color! There wasa necklace of them and two lantern-like earrings, a brooch and a ring.

  Muriel gazed at them awed by their loveliness, her hands tight clasped.As Gene watched her, he wished that all girls might be as utterlyunconscious of self as she was. Not a move did she ever make to attracthim. She was as natural in all that she did as were the seagulls thatcircled over the cliff.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Muriel, who looked up with a troubledexpression in her eyes. "Gene," she said, "'tisn't right for me to keep'em. They aren't mine, and I cal'late they're wurth a power o' money.Aren't they?"

  The boy nodded. "A fortune, I judge."

  "I'd like to give 'em back to the gal as lost 'em, if I knew who 'twas."

  Gene had idly lifted from the jewel case a locket and had opened it. Onone side was the portrait of a proud, beautiful girl, and on the otherwas a picture of himself. He snapped it shut and, replacing it in thebox, he rose rather abruptly, saying: "Muriel, let's finish our searchfor the owner's name at some future time. Shall we? You know we startedout to dig clams."

  Muriel was rather surprised, but as her patient did seem weary, shereplaced the green dress and went with him to the beach below.

  Gene wanted time to think.