CHAPTER VI
MORE GUESTS
When with shining eyes Ted told his father about Mr. Fernald's visit tothe shack, Mr. Turner simply shrugged his shoulders and smiledindulgently.
"Likely Mr. Clarence's curiosity got the better of him," said he, "andhe wanted to look your place over and see that it warn't too good; ormebbe he just happened to be going by. He never would have taken thetrouble to go that far out of his way if he hadn't had something up hissleeve. When men like him are too pleasant, I'm afraid of 'em. And asfor Mr. Laurie _dropping in_--why, his father and grandfather would nomore let him associate with folks like us than they'd let him jumpheadfirst into the river. We ain't good enough for the Fernalds.Probably almost nobody on earth is. And when it comes to Mr. Laurie,why, in their opinion the boy doesn't live who is fit to sit in thesame room with him."
Ted's bright face clouded with disappointment.
"I never thought of Mr. Laurie feeling like that," answered he.
"Oh, I ain't saying Mr. Laurie himself is so high and mighty. He ain't.The poor chap has nothing to be high and mighty about and he knows it.Anybody who is as dependent on others as he is can't afford to tilt hisnose up in the air and put on lugs. For all I know to the contrary hemay be simple as a baby. It's his folks that think he's the king-pinand keep him in cotton wool." Mr. Turner paused, his lip curling withscorn. "You'll never see Mr. Laurie at your shack, mark my words. Hispeople would not let him come even if he wanted to."
The light of eagerness in his son's countenance died entirely.
"I suppose you're right," admitted he slowly and with evidentreluctance.
Although he would not have confessed it, he had been anticipating, farmore than he would have been willing to own, the coming of Mr. Laurie.Over and over again he had lived in imagination his meeting with thisfairy prince whose grave, wistful face and pleasant smile had sostrongly attracted him. He had speculated to himself as to what theother boy was like and had coveted the chance to speak to him, neverrealizing that they were not on an equal plane. Mr. Fernald'ssuggestion of Laurie visiting the shack seemed the most natural thingin the world, and immediately after it had been made Ted's fancy hadrun riot, and he had leaped beyond the first formal preliminaries to atime when he and Laurie Fernald would really know one another, evencome to be genuine friends, perhaps. What sport two lads, interested inthe same things, could have together!
Ted had few companions who followed the bent of thought that he did.The fellows he knew either at school or in the town were ready enoughto play football and baseball but almost none of them, for example,wanted to sacrifice a pleasant Saturday to constructing a wirelessoutfit. One or two of them, it is true, had begun the job but they soontired of it and either sat down to watch him work or had deserted himaltogether. The only congenial companion he had been able to count onhad been the young assistant in the laboratory at school who, althoughhe was not at all aged, was nevertheless years older than Ted.
But with the mention of Mr. Laurie myriad dreams had flashed into hismind. Here was no prim old scholar but a lad like himself, who probablydid not know much more about electrical matters than he. You wouldn'tfeel ashamed to admit your ignorance before such a person, or own thatyou either did not know, or did not understand. You could blunder alongwith such a companion to your heart's content. Such had been his beliefuntil now, with a dozen words, Ted saw his father shatter the illusion.No, of course Mr. Laurie would never come to the shack. It had beenabsurd to think it for a moment. And even if he did, it would only beas a lofty and unapproachable spectator. Mr. Fernald's words were asubtly designed flattery intended to put him in good humor because hewanted something of him.
What could it be?
Perhaps he meant to oust him out of the boathouse and rebuild it, orpossibly tear it down; or maybe he had taken a fancy to use it as itwas and desired to be rid of Ted in some sort of pleasant fashion.Unquestionably the building belonged to Mr. Fernald and if he chose toreclaim it he had a perfect right to do so.
Poor Ted! With a crash his air castles tumbled about his ears and theecstasy of his mood gave way to apprehension and unhappiness. Each dayhe waited, expecting to hear through Mr. Wharton that Mr. ClarenceFernald had decided to use the shack for other purposes. Time slippedalong, however, and no such tidings came. In the meanwhile Mr. Whartonmade no further mention of the Fernalds and gradually Ted's fearscalmed down sufficiently for him to gain confidence enough to unpackhis boxes of wire, his tools, and instruments. Nevertheless, in spiteof this, his first enthusiasm had seeped away and he did not attempt togo farther than to take the things out and look at them.
Before his father had withered his ambitions by his pessimism, a scoreof ideas had danced through his brain. He had thought of running abuzzer over to the Stevens's bungalow in order that Mrs. Stevens mightring for him when she wanted him; and he had thought of connecting Mr.Wharton's office with the shack by telephone. He felt sure he could doboth these things and would have liked nothing better than try them.But now what was the use? If a little later on Mr. Fernald intended totake the shack away from him, it would be foolish to waste toil andmaterial for nothing. For the present, at least, he much better holdoff and see what happened.
Yet notwithstanding this resolve, he did continue to improve theappearance of the boathouse. Just why, he could not have told. Perhapsit was a vent for his disquietude. At any rate, having some scraps ofboard left and hearing the gardener say there were more geraniums inthe greenhouse than he knew what to do with, Ted made some windowboxesfor the Stevens's and himself, painted them green, and filled them withflowering plants. They really were very pretty and added a surprisingtouch of beauty to the dull, weather-stained little dwelling in thewoods. Mr. Wharton was delighted and said so frankly.
"Your camp looks as attractive as a teahouse," said he. "You have noidea how gay the red flowers look among these dark pine trees. How cameyou to think of window-boxes?"
"Oh, I don't know," was Ted's reply. "The bits of board suggested it, Iguess. Then Collins said the greenhouses were overstocked, and heseemed only too glad to get rid of his plants."
"I'll bet he was," responded Mr. Wharton. "If there is anything hehates, it is to raise plants and not have them used. He always has tostart more slips than he needs in case some of them do not root; whenthey do, he is swamped. Evidently you have helped him solve his problemfor no sooner did the owners of the other bungalows see Stevens's boxesthan everybody wanted them. They all are pestering the carpenter forboards. It made old Mr. Fernald chuckle, for he likes flowers and isdelighted to have the cottages on the place made attractive. He askedwho started the notion; and when I told him it was you he said he hadheard about you and wanted to see you some time."
This time Ted was less thrilled by the remark than he would have been afew days before. A faint degree of his father's scepticism had creptinto him and the only reply he vouchsafed was a polite smile. It wasabsurd to fancy for an instant that the senior member of the Fernaldcompany, the head of the firm, the owner of Aldercliffe, the great andrich Mr. Lawrence Fernald, would ever trouble himself to hunt up a boywho worked on the place. Ridiculous!
Yet it was on the very day that he made these positive and scornfulassertions to himself that he found this same mighty Mr. LawrenceFernald on his doorstep.
It was early Saturday afternoon, a time Ted always had for a holiday.He had not been to see his family for some time and he had made up hismind to start out directly after luncheon and go to Freeman's Falls,where he would, perhaps, remain overnight. Therefore he came swingingthrough the trees, latchkey in hand, and hurriedly rounding the cornerof the shack, he almost jostled into the river Mr. Lawrence Fernald whowas loitering on the platform before the door.
"I beg your pardon, sir!" he gasped. "I did not know any one was here."
"Nor did I, young man," replied the ruffled millionaire. "You came likea thief in the night."
"It is the pine needles, sir," explained the boy simply. "Unless youhappen
to step on a twig that cracks you don't hear a sound."
The directness of the lad evidently pleased the elder man for heanswered more kindly:
"It is quiet here, isn't it? I did not know there was a spot within aradius of five miles that was so still. I was almost imagining myselfin the heart of the Maine woods before you came."
"I never was in the Maine woods," ventured Ted timidly, "but if it isfiner than this I'd like to see it."
"You like your quarters then?"
"Indeed I do, sir."
"And you're not afraid to stay way off here by yourself?"
"Oh, no!"
Mr. Fernald peered over the top of his glasses at the boy before him.
"Would you--would you care to come inside the shack?" Ted inquiredafter an interval of silence, during which Mr. Fernald had not takenhis eyes from his face. "It is very cosy indoors--at least I think so."
"Since I am here I suppose I might just glance into the house," was thecapitalist's rather magnificent retort. "I don't often get around tothis part of the estate. To-day I followed the river and came fartheraway from Aldercliffe than I intended. When I got to this point the sunwas so pleasant here on the float that I lingered."
Nodding, Ted fitted the key into the padlock, turned it, and rolled thedoors apart, allowing Mr. Fernald to pass within. The mill owner was alarge man and as he stalked about, peering at the fireplace with itsandirons of wrought metal, examining the chintz hangings, and castinghis eye over the books on the shelf, he seemed to fill the entire room.Then suddenly, having completed his circuit of the interior, he failedto bow himself out as Ted expected and instead dropped into the bigleather armchair and proceeded to draw out a cigar.
"I suppose you don't mind if I smoke," said he, at the same instantlighting a match.
"Oh, no. Dad always smokes," replied the boy.
"Your father is in our shipping room, they tell me."
"Yes, sir."
"Where did you live before you came here?"
"Vermont."
"Vermont, eh?" commented the older man with interest. "I was born inVermont."
"Were you?" Ted ejaculated. "I didn't know that."
"Yes, I was born in Vermont," mused Mr. Fernald slowly. "Born on afarm, as you no doubt were, and helped with the haying, milking, andother chores."
"There were plenty of them," put in the boy, forgetting for the momentwhom he was addressing.
"That's right!" was the instant and hearty response. "There wasprecious little time left afterward for playing marbles or flyingkites."
The lad standing opposite chuckled understandingly and the capitalistcontinued to puff at his cigar.
"Spring was the best time," observed he after a moment, "to steal offafter the plowing and planting were done and wade up some brook----"
"Where the water foamed over the rocks," interrupted the boy, withsparkling eyes. "We had a brook behind our house. There were great flatrocks in it and further up in the woods some fine, deep trout holes.All you had to do was to toss a line in there and the next youknew----"
"Something would jump for it," cried the millionaire, breaking in turninto the conversation and rubbing his hands. "I remember hauling atwo-pounder out of just such a spot. Jove, but he was a fighter! I cansee him now, thrashing about in the water. I wasn't equipped with a rodof split bamboo, a reel, and scores of flies in those days. A hook, aworm, and a stick you'd cut yourself was your outfit. Nevertheless Imanaged to land my fish for all that."
Lured by the subject Ted came nearer.
"Any pickerel holes where you lived?" inquired Mr. Fernald boyishly.
"You bet there were!" replied the lad. "We had a black, scraggy pondtwo miles away, dotted with stumps and rotting tree trunks. Aboutsundown we fellows would steal a leaky old punt anchored there and polealong the water's edge until we reached a place where the water wasdeep, and then we'd toss a line in among the roots. It wasn't longbefore there would be something doing," concluded he, with a merrylaugh.
"How gamey those fish are!" observed Mr. Fernald reminiscently. "Andbass are sporty, too."
"I'd rather fish for bass than anything else!" asserted Ted.
"Ever tried landlocked salmon?"
"N--o. We didn't get those."
"That's what you get in Maine and New Brunswick," explained Mr.Fernald. "I don't know, though, that they are any more fun to land thana good, spirited bass. I often think that all these fashionable campswith their guides, and canoes, and fishing tackles of the latestvariety can't touch a Vermont brook just after the ice has thawed. I'dgive all I own to live one of those days of my boyhood over again!"
"So would I!" echoed Ted.
"Pooh, nonsense!" objected Mr. Fernald. "You are young and willprobably scramble over the rocks for years to come. But I'm an oldchap, too stiff in the joints now to wade a brook. Still it is apleasure to go back to it in your mind."
His face became grave, then lighted with a quick smile.
"I'll wager the material for those curtains of yours never was boughtround here. Didn't that come from Vermont? And the andirons, too?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah, I knew it! We had some of that old shiny chintz at home forcurtains round my mother's four-poster bed."
He rose and began to pace the room thoughtfully.
"Some day my son is going to bring his boy over here," he remarked. "Heis interested in electricity and knows quite a bit about it. I wasalways attracted to science when I was a youngster. I----"
He got no further for there was a stir outside, a sound of voices, anda snapping of dry twigs; and as Ted glanced through the broad frame ofthe doorway he saw to his amazement Mr. Clarence Fernald wheel up theincline just outside a rubber-tired chair in which sat Laurie.
"I declare if here isn't my grandson now!" exclaimed Mr. Fernald,bustling toward the entrance of the shack.
Ah, it needed no great perception on Ted's part to interpret the pride,affection, and eagerness of the words; in the tones of the elder man'svoice rang echoes of adoration, hope, fear, and disappointment. Themillowner, however, speedily put them all to rout by crying heartily:
"Well, well! This seems to be a Fernald reunion!"
"Grandfather! Are you here?" cried the boy in the chair, extending histhin hand with the vivid smile Ted so well remembered.
"Indeed I am! Young Turner and I were just speaking of you. I told himyou were coming to see him some day."
Laurie glanced toward Ted.
"It is nice of you to let me come and visit you," he said, with easyfriendliness. "What a pretty place you have and how gay the flowersare! And the river is beautiful! Our view of it from Pine Lea is nothalf so lovely as this."
"Perhaps you might like to sit here on the platform for a while,"suggested Ted, coming forward rather shyly and smiling down into thelad's eyes. Laurie returned the smile with delightful candor.
"You're Ted Turner, aren't you?" inquired he. "They've told me aboutyou and how many things you can do. I could not rest until I had seenthe shack. Besides, Dad says you have some books on electricity; I wantto see them. And I've brought you some of mine. They're in a packagesomewhere under my feet."
"That was mighty kind of you," answered Ted, as he stooped to securethe volumes.
"Not a bit. My tutor, Mr. Hazen, got them for me and some of them arecorking--not at all dry and stupid as books often are. If you haven'tseen them already, I know you'll like them."
How easily and naturally it all came about! Before they knew it, Mr.Fernald was talking, Mr. Clarence Fernald was talking, Laurie wastalking, and Ted himself was talking. Sitting there so idly in thesunshine they joked, told stories, and watched the river as it creptlazily along, reflecting on its smooth surface the gold and azure ofthe June day. During the pauses they listened to the whispering musicof the pines and drank in their sleepy fragrance. More than once Tedpinched himself to make certain that he was really awake. It all seemedso unbelievable; and yet, withal, there was something so simple andsuitable
about it.
By and by Mr. Clarence rose, stretched his arms, and began boyishly toskip stones across the stream; then Ted tried his skill; and presently,not to be outdone by the others, Grandfather Fernald cast aside hisdignity and peeling off his coat joined in the sport.
How Laurie laughed, and how he clapped his hands when one of hisgrandfather's pebbles skimmed the surface of the water six times beforeit disappeared amid a series of widening ripples. After this they allwere simply boys together, calling, shouting, and jesting with oneanother in good-humored rivalry. What use was it then ever again toattempt to be austere and unapproachable Fernalds? No use in the world!
Although Mr. Fernald, senior, mopped his brow and slipped back into hiscoat with a shadow of surprise when he came to and realized what he hadbeen doing, he did not seem to mind greatly having lapsed from seventyyears to seven. The fact that he had furnished Laurie with amusementwas worth a certain loss of dignity.
Ah, it would have taken an outsider days, weeks, months, perhaps yearsto have broken through the conventionalities and beheld the Fernalds asTed saw them that day. It was the magic of the sunshine, the sparkle ofthe creeping river, the mysterious spell of the pines that had wroughtthe enchantment. Perhaps, too, the memory of his Vermont boyhood hadrisen freshly to Grandfather Fernald's mind.
When the shadows lengthened and the glint of gold faded from the river,they went indoors and Mr. Laurie was wheeled about that he mightinspect every corner of the little house of which he had heard so much.This he did with the keenest delight and it was only after both hisfather and his grandfather had promised to bring him again that hecould be persuaded to be carried back to Pine Lea. As he disappearedamong the windings of the trees, he waved his hand to Ted and called:
"I'll see you some day next week, Ted. Mr. Hazen, my tutor, shall bringme round here some afternoon when you have finished work. I suppose youdon't get through much before five, do you?"
"No, I don't."
"Oh, any time you want to see Ted I guess he can be let off early,"cried both Mr. Fernald and Mr. Clarence in one breath.
Then as Mr. Clarence pushed the wheel-chair farther into the dusk ofthe pines, Mr. Fernald turned toward Ted and added in an undertone:
"It's done the lad good to come. I haven't seen him in such highspirits for days. We'll fix things up with Wharton so that whenever hefancies to come here you can be on hand. The poor boy hasn't manypleasures and he sees few persons of his own age."
Ted and the Telephone Page 7
