by Van Reid
We have enjoyed the Burnbrakes very much, Frederick and Moxie and I, and will be traveling back to Portland with them in the next few days, when we hope to see you and Mr. Moss and the members of the Moosepath League once again.
With fond regards,
Isabelle Covington
FROM CHRISTOPHER EAGLETON
PORTLAND, DECEMBER 9, 1896
Dear Mr. Millplate,
I was not able to find out the name of the man with the piano stools in his dining room, but the fellow at the grocery store on Exchange Street thinks he might know the man I was speaking of by sight. It is of course irksome that I am not able’ to be of more assistance in this matter, since it was I who raised the subject.
The weather continues bright and sunny, though cold, here in Portland, but the wind is expected to shift tonight and flurries to begin by morning. My friends Ephram and Thump came by yesterday and we took a walk to Mister Walton’s, whom you met upon the train to Hallowell.
Thump is reading a new novel by Mrs. Elbitha Philomena Grandoine, entitled Riches Never Rescued, that he says it is difficult to quit. I read Mrs.
Grandoine’s last novel, Be That Ever So, and thought it gripping, though I was a little startled by the brief episode with the dancing women. Ephram said he read the passage four or five times over, just to be sure he was understanding it, and was just as surprised the fifth time as the first! Thump hasn’t returned the book yet, so I don’t suppose he has read it.
It was very good to meet you the other day, and we certainly are interested in your duck. Mr. Moss says he knew a man who kept a goose in his pantry, so I wouldn’t be troubled by what the fellow with the missing button said. Did the duck have a name? And I can’t recall what you said your cat’s name is. At any rate, all my best, and I am sorry about the man with the piano stools. If you and your duck are ever in Portland, please let us know.
I am respectfully yours,
Christopher Eagleton
48. But Some Were Double-Knotted
FROM DANIEL PLAINWAY
HIRAM, DECEMBER 13, 1896
Dear Mister Walton,
Your letter of the ninth was very gratefully received, the more so since you have offered a solution to the problem regarding the Linnett estate. I of course would like to be a partner in forming such a fund, and will begin the legal work immediately. I plan to bring everything to Portland when we are ready to put signature to paper. The terms you have suggested are perhaps overgenerous, however, and I have been working on another plan that would take care of everything for the boy and not so pluck your pockets.
I have been drafting a letter to the O’Hearns in Veazie, introducing myself and assuring them of my intentions for Bertram. If they are half as good as you have made them out to be, they are far better guardians for the little fellow than myself. I hope to meet him, however, before very long. I have been back to the Linnett house since returning to Hiram, and more than ever I am filled with the desire to put this sad tale to rest.
You will not think me mad, I know, if I tell you that I can almost believe that a part of Nell is still there, waiting to know about her boy before she wholly quits this “vale.” And I still have the odd notion to light the place up once more, whether to drive away phantoms, real or imagined.
My regards to the good members of the Moosepath League and to Mr.
Moss. You might also tell Mr. Moss that I have been referring to my old Greek grammar and have found the word that so troubled him. By repeating the phrase “She’ll bust her feeding” his father is pronouncing the original more closely than he suspects. The word is boustrophedan, and it indeed means “as the ox plows”-that is, back and forth, left to right, right to left. I shall never look at an ox from now on without saying to myself,
“She’ll bust her feeding!”
I do not know how much Mr. Moss told you about our visit to Mr.
Francis Neptune, but he may make something of this knowledge in the light of the tale we were told.
Mister Walton, I wish words sufficed to express my gratitude for your courage and that of your friends and also for your compassion for a little boy whose family was unknown to you but greatly loved by myself. Your good works are like a stone thrown in a lake, the ripples of which will have happy effects that we cannot guess at.
With respect,
Daniel Plainway
FROM PHILEDA MCCANNON
HALLOWELL, DECEMBER 14, 1896
Dear Toby,
It does seem as if we are to learn more about one another by post than we ever will speaking in the same room. I was sorry to have you leave but understand that it was necessary. I am also sorry to read about Mr. Tempest; he did sound an interesting man, from your description. Did you have such adventures before you came home to Maine?
I too wish we might see one another near the holiday but have recently heard from a cousin who was unable to attend my aunt’s funeral but who has offered to help me close the house in Orland. She is arriving sometime this week, and I cannot tell how long it will take us or when I will be back.…
Phileda found herself fixated on the last words she had written. She wasn’t sure why it seemed so important to turn Toby down in this manner. a house can be closed up anytime, of course; Christmas comes but once a year, and how assuredly she was aware that her Christmases were dwindling, growing more precious with every advancing year.
She did not feel old-not most days-but she knew that she was of middle age, and having met Tobias Walton now had given her a renewed sense of vigor and purpose as well as filled her with apprehension.
The first time that he had hied off, when the Underwoods’ daughter was kidnapped up in Millinocket, she had been terrifically disappointed, if understanding; he had behaved as Phileda would have guessed-that is, nobly.
The second time, when he had hurried away from her to come to the aid of his fellow club members, she had nothing to hold against him, unless it was his loyalty to so many people. She was not a selfish person, but it was then that she felt the first twinge of resentment and the first inkling that he had better make up for lost ground when he returned. place in other people’s hearts and minds, and the very lack of assumption He didn’t. Tobias Walton was nothing if not circumspect about his that made him so fine a person was the one aspect of his personality that made her indignant. “If you’re going to gain my heart so quickly and so easily,” she wanted to shout at him, “the least you could do is take note!”
The third time, though he had been called away by the Portland police, she was on the verge of tears. It was in fact the first time that she had the opportunity to say good-bye to him properly-the first time!-and she had bitten her lip to keep from showing how disappointed she was. If he had only said, “Come with me.”
Ah, but Sundry had noticed; he had looked a little grimly from Toby to Phileda, and she had simply shaken her head once.
She was a woman of some initiative, it is true, but a woman of her times, and there was only so much she was willing to make obvious before he did the same; yet his very reticence might be the signal that he did not feel toward her as she to him. She was not such a catch, was she, after all?with her spectacles and her hair done up without much thought and her plain, wiry body. She had no real notion that as her male peers matured, they had come to notice the eyes behind those spectacles and the grace of movement beneath her modest clothes. Some of the finest works of art, the deepest and the most meaningful, take more thought to appreciate.
Phileda glanced over Toby’s letter of the ninth, searching for a hint of something beyond the intents of friendship. Then she turned to Charleston’s letter of the same day, which she had received a day before Toby’s.
She read: “I believe, at this mature time in our lives, neither of us would benefit from a protracted courtship.”
Here at least was a man who sensed the urgency of their years.
She thought: I promised myself to grow old more gracefully than this!
Sh
e looked out over her desk. a bird flickered in the limbs of the red maple, and she leaned forward to see if it were a chickadee or a nuthatch.
She looked out over her glasses. The bird hopped and flew off before she had identified it.
She looked back at her desk and at the letter she was writing. Three or four earlier drafts lay in the basket beside her. She couldn’t say why she was so exasperated with the man, except that she was so very fond of him.
When she returned to her letter, she wrote:
… and it would not be fair to ask you to keep your plans in the air till the last moment.
Of course, I would be glad to hear from you while I am away and to hear how you and your friends spent the holiday. Perhaps sometime in the new year we will have the opportunity to walk and talk again.
She paused, her pen hovering over the sheet of paper. Finally she wrote:
My best to Sundry. And please have a lovely Christmas.
Phileda
49. And We Were So Sure That Was the Answer
TELEGRAMS
DECEMBER 15, 1896
PORTLAND TELEGRAPH COMPANY
Office : Federal Street
DECEMBER 15 AM 11:25
WORSTER HOUSE
MR & MRS FREDERICK COVINGTON
BOUSTROPHEDAN. EXCLAMATION MARK.
SUNDRY MOSS
“Just the three words?” said the man in the telegraph office. His gray hair might have been combed that morning, but he had a tendency to run his hands through it, unsettling his hat and disarranging his mop at the same time.
“Just those, yes,” said Sundry.
The fellow behind the counter squinted one eye and directed the one remaining at the piece of paper. “B - O - U - S - T -” he said.
“Boustrophedan,” agreed Sundry.
“Hmm!” said the fellow. “I’ve sent everything over the wires, I thought.” He made some marks on the paper. “A the ox plows,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” said Sundry.
“It’s Greek,” said the fellow.
“Yes,” said Sundry, “I guess it is.”
“Boustrophedan.”
“Yes.”
“Just the three words then?”
“Just those.”
“Hmm!” said the man again. He ran his hand through his hair, and his hat was pushed to the back of his head. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the paper again.
“That’s my name,” said Sundry.
EASTERN TELEGRAPH COMPANY
Hallowell
DECEMBER 15 PM 12:10
SPRUCE STREET
SUNDRY MOSS
CONTINUED AMAZEMENT WITH YOUR PERCEPTIVENESS. UNFORTUNATELY TRIED READING RUNES BOUSTROPHEDAN THOUGH NOT IN CONNECTION WITH OX PICTOGRAPH. NOTHING. SEEING YOU IN DAY OR SO. EXCLAMATION MARKS ALL AROUND.
FREDERICK COVINGTON
PORTLAND POLICE OFFICE
Congress Street
DECEMBER 15 PM 1:05
WORSTER HOUSE
MR AND MRS FREDERICK COVINGTON
MR WALTON INFORMS YOU WILL BE RETURNING TO PORTLAND.
PLEASE CALL WHEN YOU ARRIVE. QUESTIONS REGARDING ADAM TEMPEST.
DEPUTY CHIEF FRITH
PORTLAND TELEGRAPH COMPANY
Office : Federal Street
DECEMBER 15 PM 3:00
HIGH STREET
MR DANIEL PLAINWAY
BOUSTROPHEDAN NOT SOLUTION. THANKS THOUGH FOR PUTTING TO REST a FAMILY RIDDLE. DAD WILL BE PLEASED. MR WALTON WANTING TO COME TO HIRAM TO SIGN PAPERS. ALSO MOOSEPATH LEAGUE. ARRANGE ROOM AND BOARD?
SUNDRY Moss
50. Mutual Concerns
FROM DAEL PLAINWAY
HIRAM, DECEMBER 15, 1896
Dear Messrs. Walton and Moss,
It pleases me no end that you and the members of the Moosepath League are thinking of coming to Hiram. I have the sense that Bertram’s story will come full circle and that his legacy will once again rise above the surface of worldly ills. It seems right that those who were so consequential in his rescue should see whence he came, and I can imagine that this represents at least a portion of your motive.
Perhaps, since you so kindly offer to come to me, you will indulge me further and answer a particular whim, and that is to come to the Linnett house itself-to light its lamps and fire its hearths. I will hire help to ready the place for the five of you and myself. It will take a few days, but by the beginning of next week we should have the house cleaned and habitable again.
I have had a very nice letter from Mrs. O’Hearn, and I must thank you for whatever good report you have given of me. She has very graciously invited me to spend Christmas Eve with her family, when I can meet Bertram (again). I hope that I can find something a four-year-old boy would like from St. Nicholas.
To Mr. Moss, regarding “boustrophedan”: I am sorry that the word did not provide an answer to the runes, but I wonder if you or Mr. Covington have ever seen an ox at the plow. My uncle had oxen, and he had a system of plowing that I understand is very old in some places in the world. Not everyone is adept at turning oxen hard, and some farmers will plow along the field, turning down only every other furrow-the odd furrows, if you will. Then they plow back down the field, turning up the unplowed rows-the even furrows. Some old folk in fact would plant the odd furrows when the moon was waxing and the even ones when the moon was on the wane.
Some might argue that this is the true meaning of boustrophedan that is, every other furrow, back and forth. But perhaps you have thought of this.
I wonder if you have seen Miss Burnbrake. Has she returned to Portland? Did her cousin ever reappear? These of course were not your concerns, but he proved some trouble for her and her uncle. Messrs. Ephram, Eagleton, and Thump were very good to escort Mr. Burnbrake in the absence of his nephew. And Miss Bumbrake is a very fine person. I also can’t help wonder what happened with the man the police thought drowned.
There do seem to be a lot of tendrils to those affairs that met at the Worster House.
Thank you again for all that you have done, and all that you will do. I wait to hear confirmation on your plans.
With regard,
Daniel Plainway
Daniel looked from his desk over the white lawn. “I am going to suggest to Mister Walton,” he said to his sister, Martha, who stood at the door to the study, “and the other men that they stay at the Linnett place when they come.”
“I wondered if you would think of that,” she said. She was wiping her hands on her apron. “It is too bad, though,” she added, “that you won’t be going to Portland.”
“Oh, I can go to Portland if l want to,” he said.
“I just thought you might want to look in on this Miss Bumbrake whom you spoke of.”
Daniel tried to make a face that indicated perplexity. He wondered how she could know so much from what little he had told her.
“You know, I’m quite able to take care of myself, Daniel,” she said.
“Now, what does that mean?” he asked.
“Only that you’re not to worry about me if you had a thought to be married.”
“Good Lord!” he said.
“Daniel!”
“Who’s to say we wouldn’t all stay right here if l were to?”
“Two women in the kitchen…” she said.
“Ridiculous. It’s the furthest thing from my mind. And it’s ridiculous anyhow. Two women in the kitchen! As likely say two men in the boat! I don’t suppose you wotnen are any more warlike than we are, and I’ve worked alongside some difficult fellows, I want to tell you.”
She was laughing softly. “I only thought that you were a little taken with this Miss Burnbrake.”
“And if l were, anything else would presuppose that she was taken with me.” He turned back to his desk and wondered briefly if he had made too much of Miss Bumbrake in his letter to Mister Walton and Mr. Moss.
“She might be, for all you know.”
“I think she might call me friend,” was his rep
ly.
“Edward was my friend, certainly,”she said a little wistfully.
Daniel looked up again, his expression mild and sympathetic. His sister was keen proof that love transcended death. “And how did Edward first know that you were taken with him?” he asked.
“He said to me, ‘How very nice to see you, Miss Plainway,’ and I said,’I will be Martha, Mr. Bailey, if you will be Edward.’”
“It was that simple,”said Daniel.
“It was that simple,” she replied, and again there was a wistful note in her voice. “At least it seems that simple now.” She let go of her apron and brushed an imaginary wrinkle from it. “You should look in on Miss Burnbrake, I think.”
“She may not be back in Portland yet, or if she has returned, she may not be there very long. She and her uncle live in New Hampshire. Besides, I have mentioned her in my letter to Mister Walton and Mr. Moss, and they are very apt to drop by themselves to see that everything is well. Is this Timothy with another wire?”
PORTLAND TELEGRAPH COMPANY
City Hotel Desk
DECEMBER 15 PM 5:47
HIGH STREET
MR DANIEL PLAINWAY
HOPE YOU ARE WELL. PLEASE BE AWARE THAT ROGER NOBLE MAY BE IN HIRAM. LETTER TO FOLLOW WITH PARTICULARS. THANK YOU FOR EVERY CONSIDERATION AGAIN. AS EVER.
CHARLOTTE BURNBRAKE
FROM CHARLOTTE BURNBRAKE
DECEMBER 15, 1896
Dear Mr. Plainway,
I hope this letter finds you and your sister well and that the efforts of Mister Walton and his friends have, in combination with your own magnanimous deeds, given you some measure of peace after the tragedies of the Linnett family. You must have realized how very moved I was by their tale, and even now it keeps a certain melancholy hold upon me.
Your own behavior in those sad circumstances was easily imagined, even though you spoke with undue modesty, for I have had firsthand experience of your kindness and gallantry.
