Six Girls and Bob: A Story of Patty-Pans and Green Fields

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER XIV

  AN ARK ADRIFT?

  SNIGS' queer accident proved more serious than it had at firstappeared. The glass had "blown into the flesh," as Rosie had suggested;it took seven stitches of sewing to repair the boy, and he was ill inbed for ten days with high fever and considerable pain.

  July was wearing away into August, and the thermometer mounteduncommonly high for an instrument hanging at such altitude abovesea-level.

  Mrs. Scollard drooped under the heat, and chafed with impatience to getwell; the prospect of resuming her duties in town looked distant anddim.

  Happie lost her fresh color and buoyancy under unaccustomed duties, andBob grew grave also as each day piled up hard farm work, and Septemberloomed in sight with its unsolved problems of school and businessopportunities.

  Polly and Penny were growing bigger and browner almost hour by hour,and Laura was an improved Laura, with her vanity much chastened andher self-confidence subdued by her misadventure. Margery's letterswere overflowing with happiness, but her mother read in them subtleindications that her eldest girl was slipping over the boundary lineof young girlhood, and was growing up.

  Gretta's affairs were getting worse, while she was improving day byday. Miss Bradbury and Mrs. Scollard had grown very fond of the prettygirl, and hardly less interested than Happie in trying to solve theuntangling of her life. In proportion as her new friends cared for her,and she blossomed out into the development her cousins had grudged her,the Neumanns became more unkind to her. It was plain that matters couldnot long continue as they were, and Miss Bradbury and Mrs. Scollardfruitlessly discussed Gretta's prospects, and wished it were withintheir power to brighten them.

  The first of August brought summons of return to Ralph and Snigs. Theywent away sadly, for the prospect of the Scollards' following them wasnot bright, and the boys would not be able to come back to the Arkbefore school began.

  These were the changes that August brought to the Ark. With them therewas creeping into the air a feeling of waiting. Not of waiting foranything definite, but a vague feeling of unrest, as if "something weregoing to happen," a feeling very like the atmosphere on a still Augustafternoon when not a leaf is stirring, and great thunder heads pile upin the west.

  "I only hope it will be something good when it happens," Happie saidwhen her mother confessed to this uneasiness. "It really seems as ifwe could not stand anything bad."

  She did not mean to betray her weariness in well-doing; it slipped outin spite of herself.

  "Poor little Happie!" sighed her mother, fluttering the sheets of herlatest long letter from Margery. "I wonder if I should have insisted onyour going to Bar Harbor?"

  "Of course not, motherums!" cried Happie hastily. "Margery's letterssound as if she were as happy as the days are long, but they sound asif she had more Margery-things than Happie-things."

  "So they do," assented her mother. "You too have noticed the oldernote, then? I suppose we must make up our minds to letting Margerygrow up. But you would have found what you call 'Happie-things' if youhad been there. We all find our own attractions throughout life, andwherever we may be. Like draws like, and we rise or sink to our ownlevel; never forget that, my Happie."

  "Mothers find little texts everywhere, don't they, motherums?" saidHappie kissing her. "They are forever improving their children'sminds and morals, and they don't have to wait to find sermons even instones--though Bar Harbor must have rocks!"

  "It is a great advantage to a preacher to have a congregation that mustlisten," retorted her mother. "Run away and make your cake for supper,you saucy Happie."

  "Saucy Happie" turned away laughing, but before she had time to obeyMiss Bradbury came into the room with a step that combined stealth andhaste.

  "I haven't said a word," she whispered, so low that she could hardly bedescribed as saying a word then, "because I did not want to frightenyou, Charlotte, but Dundee has been growling fearfully for the past twonights. I don't see how you could have helped hearing him--though tobe sure he has slept under my bed, with my door shut! He is out in theyard now, growling and crawling up towards the back door. I am certainthat I saw a figure skulking along by the fence. Here is a revolver;I brought it up in case of need, but I can't let any one touch it.Where's Bob?"

  "He's out in the barn looking after Don Dolor," said Mrs. Scollard."I'm not at all frightened, Miss Keren. I'm sure there's nothing wrong.Suppose you stay here with the revolver, and let Happie go out in thekitchen to see if Rosie's there."

  "You never can tell how nervous people are going to be nervous!"exclaimed Miss Bradbury, as if she were disappointed by Mrs. Scollard'scalmness, even while dreading to disturb her. "Very well; creep out,Happie, but go carefully!"

  Happie laughed, and obediently departed. She heard low voices as sheneared the kitchen, and she opened the door to discover Rosie's Mahlonstanding there on one leg, "like the goose he is," Happie thought, notfeeling in the mood to be amused by Rosie's decidedly not better half.

  "Have you been around here nights lately?" asked Happie.

  "Pretty much all summer," whined Mahlon. "Rosie didn't know it--shewouldn't have cared, no sir, not if she did know it. She hasn't anyheart in her, and then you folks got a dog!"

  Happie's laugh rang out, and she hurried back to the library. "Put awayyour revolver, Aunt Keren; it's only Rosie's Mahlon, and the most youwould need for him would be a wringing machine--he's very tearful!"

  Then she rushed back to see the fun.

  "Now you keep still!" she heard Rosie say in a fierce whisper as sheentered. But it was much too hard a matter to Mahlon to get startedtalking for him to be easily silenced. He swung his right arm, andswung his right leg in unison with it. His voice arose into a tearfulwhine; he seemed to be on the point of breaking into tears, as he oftendid when excited.

  "No, sir," he piped, "I couldn't do it! Nobody couldn't do it. He toldme to go up once on the barn loft, on that there cracked ladder andthrow down the old straw. And I told him I couldn't, and I wasn't goin'to break my neck, not for him nor nobody like him, and me with a wifedependent on me yet!"

  Rosie glanced at Happie involuntarily, with a gleam of pure humor inher eyes, and in spite of herself Happie laughed aloud.

  This seemed to outrage Mahlon's already wounded feelings. His voicerose higher and more squeaky as he said: "Yes, sir, you may laugh, butI'm a man, and I've got a man's feelin's yet. I told him I wouldn'tclimb that there ladder, not if I died fer it, and he said I'd got toclimb it, or quit. So I quit, and here I am. I'd like to know whatyour folks think I'm goin' to do if I hain't got no work, and my wifehelpin' you, and my house shut up, lettin' me without no home?"

  The arm-and-leg movement waxed furious, and the wailing voice brokealtogether as the forlorn creature fell like a scarecrow in a gale,doubled up on a chair, his arms on the table, while he cried into them,face downwards.

  Happie felt painfully embarrassed, not understanding the intention ofthis appeal, but Rosie proved herself equal to this, as to all otheroccasions.

  She took her limp husband by the shoulder and shook him together like afeather bed, the same movement bringing him to his feet.

  "Here, you git ap!" she said emphatically. "I hain't goin' to have themdirty coat sleeves that you wear 'round the pigs on my clean tablewhere I'm goin' to make biscuits, and Happie's goin' to bake cake fersupper yet! And you cryin', like a I'd-know-what! I bet you what youdare they got tired already chasin' you round over there to make youwork! I guess I know how you dig--take out one shovelful, and thenstand five minutes and admire the hole! Happie hain't goin' to bebothered with you. If you want her Aunt Keren to leave you work ferher, you've got to ask her yourself. My days, Mahlon, you look and actmore like a roll of carpet rags when I hain't seen you fer a while thanever. You go out and see'f you can't do nothin' towards helpin' Bob awhile. He's cleanin' the horse's stall and beddin' him down. You go outonce and find out. Supper'll be ready till you come bac
k. If you hain'tgot nothin' you _must_ do, git up and do somethin' you _kin_ do!"

  Mahlon acted on this strong hint, and departed barnward. Happie hidher face by stooping down to get out the cake tins from the deepestrecesses of the kitchen closet. Rosie sighed, then she laughed; she wasan unconscious philosopher of the school that holds it best to smile atthe misfortunes which cannot be cured, that being the one way in whichthey can be endured.

  "If ever you git married, Happie," she said--"and if you take my adviceyou'll think it over hard before you set the day, and then set anotherday twenty years later, and think it over again till that one, and Iguess till then you'll have seen enough to know you hadn't ought to bein no hurry--but if ever you do git married, for the goodness' sake gita man you don't have to order round! I never give Mahlon orders but Ifeel 'sif I'd ought ter be broomsticked! My days, I've thought alreadyI'd ruther have a man take a broomstick to _me_ then lop 'round so! Awoman hadn't orter give the orders, but when you've got to, you've gotto. Don Dolor would look well drivin' you, now wouldn't he? That's theway 'tis: the one that's fit to drive's got to drive, if you want togit anywheres. But don't you never git that kind. I guess you've got toput that there bitter ammon in your cake; the vanilla's all."

  Happie made her cake and Rosie made her biscuits, and Mahlon returnedwith Bob--who had learned to milk--in time to enjoy their steamingfragrance and more substantial qualities.

  Miss Bradbury saw at a glance that Bob welcomed the assistance of eventhe dilapidated Mahlon, for Pete and Jake were uncertain, whereas theduties of each day were as certain as the rising of the sun. MissKeren therefore engaged Mahlon "to paddle around the Ark," as Bobexpressed it, to the ridiculous delight of that abject person, whofully appreciated the gain he had made in insinuating himself into theArk. "Only," said Miss Bradbury whimsically, "if we could have knownit was he who haunted the place by nights we could have dispensed withDundee's services."

  After tea the heavy clouds which had been gathering all the afternoonin white curled masses in the west, mounted higher with the sunset, andturned black and purple, emitting low growls, and occasionally partingto show long, jagged stripes of flame.

  "It will be a good one when it gits here," remarked Rosie, putting theremaining biscuits into the bread box. "It's goin' to come sudden, too.If you've let anything to do after supper, Bob, you'd better be aboutit."

  "Everything is battened down and tight caulked for the gale, CaptainGruber," replied Bob in nautical, but indistinct terms, his mouth beingoccupied with a postscript to supper, in the form of a stolen piece ofHappie's cake.

  It was nine o'clock, however, before the storm burst with sudden furyout of a greenish-blackness of sky and atmosphere that added to thehorror of the vivid lightning.

  Miss Bradbury sat erect on a straight chair with her feet on another,in rigid contempt of her own undeniable fear. Mrs. Scollard held Lauraand Polly, one in each arm, and Bob and Happie tried to sing, butthey missed Margery's sweet alto, and succeeded less well than usualin distracting the family attention from the storm. At its height acarriage dashed up the driveway, and a woman's voice cried: "Whoa!"

  "Some one's got caught," observed Rosie, as the family looked at oneanother, the younger ones with a natural tendency to find somethingportentous in this arrival out of the wildness and blackness of thenight.

  "It's like Guy Mannering," whispered Happie to Bob.

  Rosie opened the door. They heard her exclaim: "Well, for goodness'sake!"

  Then she led the way into the library, as it had been decided to callwhat had been the parlor, and what Rosie still designated "the room."

  She was followed by Miss Eunice Neumann, her sister, and an olderwoman; all three were very wet and looked as disgusted as mortals couldlook.

  "We thought we'd git home ahead of it," remarked Eunice Neumann byway of greeting, not specifying what they had hoped to outstrip. "Butit came up faster than what we thought it would, and when we got hereEmmaline said she'd know it if she'd go further, so we come in here.Mahlon took the horse," she added to Rosie, as if she had the firstclaim to an explanation.

  "I'm glad you did not try to go on," said Mrs. Scollard, rising. "Eventhe distance to your house is too great to travel in weather such asthis is. Shall Bob make a fire, a wood-fire on the hearth, Miss Keren?And Rosie will take Miss Neumann up-stairs and lend you dry garments,while yours are hung in the kitchen."

  "No, sir; I hain't goin' to bother changin'," said Eunice emphatically."We'll sit on these wooden chairs. 'Twon't hurt them none to git wet."So saying she drew forth three cherished old chairs which had been MissBradbury's grandmother's, and established herself on the first one,setting her sister and her friend an example.

  "Bob, please make a fire," said Miss Bradbury. "We do not know thisthird lady?"

  "That there one with 'em is Emmaline Gulick," said Rosie, supplying thedeficiencies of introduction, as Eunice disregarded Miss Bradbury'sreminder. She spoke, to Mrs. Scollard's embarrassment, in her usualtone, but the reason for this speedily developed.

  "She's as deef as a whole row of posts," Rosie continued. "She usedto live around here, but she moved down country; she's visitin' theNeumanns now."

  "Yes," said Reba speaking unexpectedly. "We feel sorry fer her."

  "Is Gretta at home alone?" asked Happie, shrinking from a particularlyvivid flash of lightning as she looked out of the window.

  "Yes, she is, and lucky to be there yet; I wisht I was," said Eunice."You've got it nice here now. I wonder you hain't afraid, takin' whatbelongs to an orphan girl."

  "Now, Eunice, you keep still!" interposed Rosie sharply. "They don'tknow nothin' about that there story, and no one knows if there's a wordof truth in it."

  Neither of her hostesses were paying very strict attention to thevisitor's remarks, but Happie came forward at once from the window."Aunt Keren," she said, "this is the second time Miss Neumann hashinted that this house is not rightfully yours, only the first time shedid more than hint--she said straight out that it belonged to Gretta.I asked Gretta what it meant, but she said nothing at all. Now Rosieseems to have heard of it. Wouldn't you like to understand it?"

  "Of course," said Miss Bradbury sharply, forgetting to keep the currentof electricity in safe directions, and endangering her life by lettingher feet slip from the round of her second chair. "Tell us what youknow, Miss Neumann--or Rosie."

  "I know all there is to know, and it's all foolishness," said Rosie,forestalling Eunice. "Suppose I git Emmaline Gulick a cup of tea, she'sthat wet."

  "By all means the tea, and for us all, please, but what is the story?"insisted Miss Bradbury, alert as she became convinced there really wasa story.

  "Gretta's grandmother owned this house," began Eunice, nothing loathto tell the tale which Rosie would gladly have suppressed. "She ownedit before she went and married a second time, married old Bittenbenderyet! Everybody knew what he was, they say. She found out her mistake,and it didn't take long neither, but 'tain't so easy cuttin' thehangman's rope as 'tis tyin' it. She had to make the best of whatthere wasn't no best to. She said often and often that she'd made awill leavin' everything she had to her son--that was Gretta's father.But when she come to die her son was dead and buried before her, andthere wasn't no will nowheres. So old Bittenbender he took the house,and there wasn't nobody to stop him. We couldn't go to law about it;we hadn't the money nor the time to be on the court for dear knowshow many years. Gretta hadn't no other relations to make a fuss, so itstood the way 'twas. If they'd found the will old Bittenbender couldn'thave took it, but as 'twas, he did. Then when he'd had it as long's hewanted it, and he was goin' off to live with his folks in NorthamptonCounty--he'd had a stroke and couldn't live on alone--why, didn't he upand give over the place to you instead of payin' you what he owed youin money, and lettin' the place for Gretta, who'd ought to have had itby rights in the first place! The Bittenbenders had plenty money, sothere wasn't no reason why he couldn't have paid up if he'd had a mindto. He's dead now himself, and yo
u've got the place, but you hadn'tought to have had it, and if 'twas me I shouldn't want it, knowin' how'twas."

  Miss Bradbury and Mrs. Scollard exchanged perturbed glances, while thechildren watched them anxiously.

  "Miss Neumann," said Miss Bradbury at last, "this is a most amazingstory. Of course you realize that it is based on mere rumor; there isno proof that Gretta's grandmother made a will, and it is possiblethat it was she who failed in her duty of providing for the child.It is possible that Mr. Bittenbender had a legal right to the place.Certainly I am guiltless of so much as a suspicion that any one waswronged by his holding it and relinquishing it to me. All that I cando is to try to discover the truth. You may rest assured that I shalldeal entirely honestly, not merely according to the letter of the law,but according to its spirit, and should do so were it a stranger whowas affected by this issue, and not Gretta, of whom we are so fond."

  "It don't do much good to talk," said Eunice defiantly. "I meant tocome up and tell you about this, come a-purpose, but now the rain'sdrove me in here I thought I might as well leave you know what's onmy mind when I'd got the chance. Gretta's less good than ever to us.She's all took up with you folks here, and she's gittin' more and moreungrateful to us, who's done all she's had done fer her since she wasfive years old."

  "And that hain't much," Rosie burst forth. "You hadn't ought to talk,Eunice; you had ought to remember we was all lookin' on, and everybodyin Crestville knews Gretta's more'n earned the interest on the timebefore she could do anything. You come out in the kitchen with me andI'll give you some tea. Then I guess, Miss Bradbury, they might as wellgo up-stairs and go to bed. It's ten o'clock already, and the storm'sas fierce as ever, and it'll be late till it stops, if 'tain't morning.You make Emmaline understand, Eunice, and you and Reba kin go to bed inmy room."

  "I guess I won't drink tea at this hour!" exclaimed Eunice indignantly,"and I hain't a-goin' to bed. Emmaline's kind of feeble; if you wantto take her up to your room and leave her lay till she's called, Idon't care, but I hain't goin' to bed, nor Reba hain't. I won't keepyou folks up; you kin let us with Rosie, and go to bed if you want to.I wanted to tell you about this house, and now I'm satisfied."

  "I'll take 'em out in the kitchen," whispered Rosie, rigid withindignant loyalty to Miss Bradbury. "Don't you worry about that story;nobody don't know the truth, anyhow."

  Miss Bradbury nodded, quite unperturbed, and said aloud: "I shall makeit my business to learn the truth, Rosie."

  Poor old deaf Emmaline Gulick was taken up to Rosie's little room torest, and soon fell comfortably asleep, unconscious of the roar ofthunder.

  Laura and Polly fell asleep with Jeunesse Doree on the couch, and theirmother, with Bob and Happie, discussed in all its bearings the excitingtale they had just heard, Miss Bradbury much less disturbed than any ofthem.

  The children discovered that they had grown fonder of the Ark than theyknew, and it was not wholly pleasant to find any one, even Gretta, itsowner instead of themselves--for so thoroughly had Aunt Keren weldedthem into one family that the Ark seemed as much theirs as hers.

  It was midnight when the storm finally broke away sufficiently to allowthe refugees from its fury to continue the short remainder of theirjourney.

  Reba went up to awaken Emmaline Gulick. It was not an easy task.Deaf to all sounds, sunk in the first heavy sleep of wearinessand increasing years, Reba's voice could not penetrate Emmaline'sconsciousness.

  She laid her hand upon the sleeper's arm. "Emmaline, Emmaline, wakeup!" she cried. "It hain't raining now and we're goin' home. Hurry up,Emmaline!"

  Emmaline had one abiding dread, and that was fire. As she struggled tothe surface of the waking world, that fear asserted itself. She couldnot hear a word that Reba said; she did not know where she was, but ofone thing she was instantly certain. Wherever she was the place was onfire, and she must run for her life!

  She snatched a blanket and threw it around her, although she had laindown completely dressed. Wrapped in this blanket, with its stripedred border wandering fantastically around her thin, small figure, sheran down-stairs, followed by Reba vainly shouting to her to stop, andentirely at sea as to what ailed her elderly friend.

  The family had gathered at the foot of the stairs waiting to see theirguests depart; Eunice was already in the carriage at the door. Theyheard Reba calling frantically to Emmaline to stop, heard her say: "Oh,she's gone crazy! Stop her, Eunice!" They saw the little gray-hairedcreature, with the gorgeous blanket enveloping her, fly down the stairsand out of the front door, hotly pursued by Reba, and the walls echoedto the children's irrepressible whoop of delight.

  It was too dark outside to see clearly the violence with which Emmalinethrew herself into the buggy, falling on her knees and getting woundup in the blanket in her haste, but the amazed inmates of the Arkheard Eunice cry: "Git ap!" as Emmaline pulled Reba in after her withthe strength of terror and saw the horse start off, probably no lesssurprised than the human beings behind him. Then they saw Eunice's headthrust out of the side of the buggy, and heard her voice call back inprofound disgust: "I'll send the blanket back to-morrer! She thinks thehouse's afire!"

  With that the unexpected visitors made their hasty exit, and all theyoung Scollards fell in a heap on the lower steps of the stairs,rolling and rocking in agonies of laughter.