CHAPTER XX
COMING AND GOING
"Pierre! and Angelique is boxing his ears! My, what a whack, that Ican hear it way in here! I must to the rescue, but his coming makesright for me to go. Angelique, Angelique, don't! Heigho, Pierre! I'mglad you're back!"
But if he heard this welcome he did not heed it, and Margot stoodamazed at the ridiculous scene upon which she had entered.
There was Angelique, still arrayed in her own flower-bedecked bonnetand her mistress' India shawl, being whirled about the big kitchen ina crazy sort of waltz which seemed to suit the son's excited mood. Herbonnet sat rakishly on one side and the rich shawl dragged over thefloor, which, fortunately, was too clean to harm it; but amidst herenforced exercises, the mother continued to aim those resounding blowsat her son's great ears. Sometimes they hit the mark, but at othersfell harmlessly upon his broad shoulders. In any case, they seemed notto disturb him but rather to add to the homelikeness of his return.
At length, however, he released his irate parent and held out his handto Margot.
"Done the old lady heap of good. How's things? How's the menagerie?and the master?"
"Hey? Where's the manners I've always taught you? Askin' for themaster last when 'tis he is always first. Yes. Yes, indeed. But,Pierre, 'twas nigh no master at all you came home to. He's been atdeath's door for weeks. Even yet----"
Then Angelique turned and saw Margot, whose presence she had notbefore observed. But she rallied instantly, turning her sentence intoa brisk command:
"Even yet, the churnin' not done and it goin' on to measure nineo'clock. Get to the dasher, lad, and tie this big apron round yourneck. Then change that dirty shirt. That a child of mine should wearsuch filthy things. Pouf! you were always the torment; that is so."
"Just the same, Angelique, dear, your eyes are shining like stars, andyou are happier than you have been a single minute since that bad boyof yours paddled away in the night. If he's to churn I'm to sit besidehim and hear all his long story first. Come on, Pierre! Oh! how goodit is to have you back!"
It was, also, most delightful to the mother, even though her happinessexpressed itself in a peculiar way, by grumbling and scolding as shehad not done once since real trouble fell upon that home, with theillness of its master.
The churn stood outside the kitchen door, for Angelique would allow nochance of spilled cream on her scoured boards; so Margot settledherself on the door-step and listened while the wanderer gave her along and detailed account of his journey. Meanwhile, and at every fewminutes, his mother would step to his side, take the dasher from hishand and force a bit of food within it. He devoured this greedily,though he made no comment, and resumed his churning as soon as thetid-bit was consumed. Through all, Angelique's face was beaming andher lips fretting, till Margot laughed aloud.
"Oh! Angelique Ricord! Of all the odd people you are the oddest!"
"So? Well, then. How many odd people have you seen, my child that youshould be so fine a judge? So that evil-come departed to his own, hedid? May his shadow never darken this door again! 'Twas all along ofhim the trouble came."
"No, Angelique, you forget. It must have been the broken glass! Howcould it possibly have been anything else? Never mind, sweetheart;when I come home from my long journey I will bring you a new one, bigand clear, and that has the power to make even plain folks looklovely. If my uncle will let me. Dear, but I do wish you had a bit,this minute, to see how silly you look with that big bonnet on!"
Angelique's hand flew to her head in comic dismay. She had carefullyremoved and refolded the beautiful shawl, but had quite forgotten herother adornment, which she now tore off in a haste that threateneddamage to the precious possession.
"Pierre, bid her be careful. That is your wife's bonnet!"
Even the housekeeper had to smile at this and listen patiently whileMargot made much of the incident. Indeed, she would have willinglybeen laughed at indefinitely, if thus she could herself hear theseyoung voices gay with the old-time unconcern.
"And Adrian was good to the poor, wild things. Well, I have hopes ofAdrian. He didn't have the right sort of rearing to know how theforest people feel, but he learned fast. I'm thankful, thankful,Pierre Ricord, that you had to lose those fine antlers. If you'd soldthem and made a lot of money by it, you would have forgotten that themoose could suffer and have killed many more. As it is, better oneshould die than many. And Pierre, I'm going away myself. Now thatyou've come home, I'm going at once. Old Joseph and I. Clear to thatfar away New York where Adrian has gone, and to many other places,too."
Pierre dropped the dasher with such force that the "half-brought"butter, which Angelique was opening the churn to "scrape downtogether," splashed out over the step, Margot's lap, and the ground.
Angelique was too indignant to speak, but Margot cried:
"Oh! Pierre! How careless and wasteful. We've none too much butter,anyway."
The lad still stared, open-mouthed. After a minute he asked:
"What's that you said? About that New York?"
"I'm going to New York. I'm going in my uncle's place, to attend to myuncle's business. Old Joe is to go with me to take care of me--or I ofhim--and you are to stay here with the master and your mother. You maybring King Madoc over if you wish; and, by the way, how did you gethere, if you have lost your own canoe?"
"Helped myself to one of Joe's. Helped myself to a breakfast, too.Joe's stocked up for winter, already. But, I say, Margot. He's no usein a big city. Better take me. I was goin' anyway, only afterthat--well, that grave, I made up my mind I'd just step back here aspell and take a fresh start. I'm ready, any minute, and Joe hates it.Hey?"
"I wouldn't trust myself with you a dozen miles. You're too foolishand fickle. Joe is steady and faithful. It's settled. I think,Angelique, that we can start to-morrow. Don't you?"
Angelique sighed. All her happiness was once more overclouded. Whycouldn't well enough be let alone? However, she answered nothing. Shehad sometimes ventured to grumble even at the master but she had neverquestioned his decisions. If it was by his will that her inexperienceddarling was to face the dangers of an unknown world, with nobody but aglum old Indian to serve her, of course, there was nothing for it butsubmission.
At daybreak the next morning, Margot stood beside her uncle's bed,clasping his thin hands in parting. His eyes were sad and anxious, buthers were bright and full of confidence. He had given his last advice;she had ample money for all possible needs, with directions upon whomto call for more, should anything arise for which they had notprepared, and she had, also, her route marked out on paper, withinnumerable suggestions about this or that stop; and now, there wasnothing more to do or say but add his blessing and farewell.
HIS BIRCH CANOE PULLED STEADILY AWAY]
"Good-bye, Margot. Into God's hands I give you."
"The same Hands, uncle, which have cared for me always. I shall comeback and bring our loved one with me. Get well fast, to make him happywhen he comes."
A hasty kiss to Angelique who was sobbing herself ill, a clasp ofPierre's hand, and she was gone. Joe's birch was pulling steadily awayfrom the Island of Peace into that outside world of strife andcontention, of which the young voyager was so wholly ignorant.
Her eyes were wet and her heart ached, with that same sort of physicaldistress which had assailed her when Adrian went away, but now muchsharper. Yet her lips still smiled and Joseph, furtively regardingher, was satisfied. She would give him no trouble.
A few miles' journey and she had entered what seemed like fairyland.She had then no time for looking back or remembering. The towns werewonderful, and the first time that she saw a young girl of her own ageshe stared until the stranger made a grimace toward her. Thisperplexed and annoyed her, but taught her a lesson: she stared nomore.
Yet she saw everything; and in that little book her uncle had providedfor this object made notes of her impressions, to be discussed withhim upon her return. Her first ride behind horses made her laughaloud. They were so beau
tiful and graceful and their strength soappealed to her animal-loving heart. The ricketty buck-board, whichwas their first vehicle, seemed luxurious, though after a few miles'jogging over a corduroy-road she confided to Joseph that she preferreda canoe.
"Umm. No shakeum up."
A stage drawn by four steeds, rather the worse for wear, yet withthe accompaniment of fellow-travelers and a musical horn, broughtmemories of Cinderella and other childish heroines, and made the oldtales real; but when they reached the railway and stepped into a carher interest grew painfully intense. When the conductor paused totake their tickets, obligingly procured for this odd pair by thestage-driver, Margot immediately requested to be put upon the engine.
"The engine! Well, upon my word!"
"Yes, I've never seen one, except the one in front of this car-train.I know how they operate but I would so dearly like to see them workingclose at hand. Can't I?"
The brass-buttoned official made no reply, save to purse his lips andutter another low whistle; but he gave Margot and Joe a criticalsurvey and reflected that of all the passengers he had ever carriedthese were the most unique. There was something in the girl'sintelligent face that was hard to deny, and for all his silence,perhaps because of it, a certain dignity about the Indian that wonfavor even for him.
It was a way-train on a branch road; one of the connecting linksbetween the wilderness and the land of the "through express" else itmight not have happened that, after so long a time had elapsed thatMargot felt her request was indeed refused, the conductor returned andwhispered in her ear. It was a concession, not to be made general; butshe was informed:
"I've spoken to the engineer and he says he doesn't mind. Not ifyou'll ask no questions and won't bother."
"I'll not. And I thank you very much."
"Hmm. She may be a backwoods girl but she can give a lesson in mannersto many a city miss," thought the obliging guide, as he led Margotforward through the few cars toward the front; and, at the next stop,helped her to the ground and up again into the little shut-in spacebeside the grimy driver of this wonderful iron horse.
Margot never forgot that ride; nor the man at the lever his unknownpassenger. She had left her obnoxious bonnet upon the seat beside oldJoseph and her hair had broken from its unaccustomed braid to itshabitual freedom, so that it enveloped her and streamed behind herlike a cloud. Her trim short skirt, her heelless shoes, her absenceof "flummery" aroused the engineer's admiration and he volunteered,what he had previously declined to give, all possible informationconcerning his beloved locomotive. He even allowed her, for one briefmoment to put her own hand on the lever and feel the thrill of thatresistless plunging forward into space.
It was only when they stopped again and she knew she ought to go backto Joe that she ventured to speak.
"I never enjoyed anything so much in my life, nor learned so much inso short a time. I wish--I wish--have you a sister, or a little girl?Or anybody you love very much?"
"Why, yes. I've got the nicest little girl in the United States. She'sthree years old and as cute as they make 'em."
"You've given me pleasure, I'd like to give her as much. May she havethis from me, to get--whatever a town child would like?"
"Sure, miss, it's too much; but----"
Margot was gone, and on the engineer's palm shone a bright gold coin.All Mr. Dutton's money was in specie and he had given Margot a liberalamount of "spending money" for her trip. Money being a thing she knewas little about as she did traveling he had determined to let herlearn its value by experience; yet even he might have been a trifleshocked by the liberality of this, her first "tip." However, she sawonly the gratitude that leaped into the trainman's eyes and was gladthat she had had the piece handy in her pocket.
Yet, delightful as the novelty of their long journey was, Margot foundit wearisome; and the nearer she reached its end the more a new anduncomfortable anxiety beset her. Joseph said nothing. He had nevercomplained nor admired, and as far as sociability was concerned hemight have been one of those other, wooden Indians which began toappear on the streets of the towns, before shops where tobaccowas sold. She looked at Joe, sometimes, wondering if he saw theseeffigies of his race and what were his opinions on the matter. Buthis face remained stolid and she decided that he was indifferent toall such slight affairs.
It was when they first stepped out of their train into the greatstation at New York, that the full realization of her undertaking cameto her. Even Joseph's face now showed some emotion, of dismay andbewilderment, and her own courage died in that babel of noises and thecrowding rush of people, everywhere.
"Why, what has happened? Surely, there must have been some fearfulaccident, or they would not all hurry so."
Then she saw among the crowd, men in a uniform she recognized, fromthe description her uncle had once given her, and remembered that hehad then told her if ever she were in a strange place and needed helpit was to such officers she should apply. When this advice had beengiven, a year before, neither had imagined it would so soon beuseful. But it was with infinite relief that she now clutched Joseph'shand and impelled him to go with her. Gaining the side of an officer,she caught his arm and demanded:
"What is the matter? Where are all the people hurrying to?"
"Why--nowhere, in special. Why?"
The policeman had, also, been hastening forward as if his lifedepended upon his reaching a certain spot at a certain time, but nowhe slackened his speed and walked quietly along beside this odd girl,at the same moment keeping his eye upon a distant group of gamins benton mischief. It had been toward them he had made such speed, but abrother officer appearing near them he turned his attention uponMargot and her escort.
"Oh! I thought there was something wrong. Is it always such a rackettyplace? This New York?"
"Always. Why, 'tis quiet here to-day, compared to some."
"Are you an officer of the law? Is it your business to take care ofstrangers?"
"Why, yes. I suppose so."
"Can I trust you? Somebody must direct me. I was to take a cab andgo--to this address. But I don't know what a cab is from any othersort of wagon. Will you help me?"
"Certainly. Give me the card."
Margot handed him the paper with the address of the old friend withwhom her uncle wished her to stop while she was in the city; but themoment the policeman looked at it his face fell.
"Why, there isn't any such place, now. All them houses has been torndown to put up a sky-scraper. They were torn down six months ago."
"Why, how can that be? This lady has lived in that house all her life,my uncle said. She is a widow, very gentle and refined: she was quitepoor; though once she had plenty of money. She took boarders, to keepa roof over her head; and it isn't at all likely that she would tearit down and so destroy her only income. You must be mistaken. Won'tyou ask somebody else, who knows more about the city, please?"
The officer bridled, and puffed out his mighty chest. Was not he "oneof the finest"? as the picked policemen are termed. If he didn't knowthe streets of the metropolis, who did?
Margot saw that she had made a serious mistake. Her head turned giddy,the crowd seemed to surge and close about her, and with a sense ofutter failure and homesickness she fainted away.
A Daughter of the Forest Page 20
