The Green Dolphin

By Sara Ware Bassett

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Title: The Green Dolphin

Author: Sara Ware Bassett

Release date: February 22, 2026 [eBook #78005]

Language: English

Original publication: Philadelphia: The Penn Publishing Company, 1926

Credits: Steve Mattern and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GREEN DOLPHIN ***




                               THE GREEN DOLPHIN

[Illustration: PEGGY HAD HER HANDS FULL BEHIND THE SCENES]





                          _The Green Dolphin_

                                  _by_
                           _Sara Ware Bassett_
                   _Author of “The Harbor Road,” etc._

                          THE PENN PUBLISHING
                         COMPANY · PHILADELPHIA
                                  1926



[Illustration]



                               COPYRIGHT
                                1926 BY
                                THE PENN
                               PUBLISHING
                                COMPANY

                             [Illustration]

                          _The Green Dolphin_

                   _First Printing, September, 1926_
                    _Second Printing, October, 1926_
                    _Third Printing, October, 1926_
                   _Fourth Printing, December, 1926_
                    _Fifth Printing, February, 1927_

                 _Made in the United States of America_




                               CHAPTER I


Probably the thought most remote from the mind of Asaph Holmes, as his
dingy wagon gritted along the ribbon of sand that bound together the
hamlets of Belleport and Wilton, was matrimony.

He was a shy man with only a limited acquaintance among women. Moreover
he considered himself to be well enough off as he was. His small
cottage overlooking the horseshoe enclosure of Belleport harbor was
cosy as a schooner’s cabin and within it he could do as he pleased
without running the risk of being nagged, prodded or reformed.

Just why Asaph should have associated a wife with this trilogy of vices
was an enigma, for his mother, gentle soul, had never been a nagging,
prodding, or reforming woman and hers was the only marriage he had had
opportunity to study at close range. Certainly the theory had not been
deduced from viewing her tyrannies, and from what source Asaph had
evolved it was a puzzle difficult of solution.

Perchance Hannah Dole was responsible for the credo.

She was a lean, stern-visaged Cape Codder who came periodically from
the village to clean him up. Asaph Holmes dreaded her visits as he
dreaded the Day of Judgment and would joyfully have done away with
them had they not become indispensable. Gradually, however, it had
developed that whenever his solitary existence waxed too complex and
he found himself face to face with a state of things he was powerless
to untangle, he summoned Hannah Dole, that paragon of method and
orderliness, to extricate him from his unhappy dilemma.

The feat sounded simple enough and under ordinary conditions would
doubtless have proved so, but in Asaph’s case the conditions were not
ordinary.

Unfortunately he was possessed of two hobbies: an admiration for Daniel
Webster abnormal in its proportions; and a passion for horticulture
in consequence of which he collected everything having even a remote
connection with this delightful pursuit. He sent far and wide for
flower catalogues; he invested in patent seed shakers, pruning shears,
and self-watering window boxes; he dabbled in every heralded variety
of fertilizer and insecticide; he spent his last jingling copper
for perennials that never came up. To these heterogeneous treasures
he added reels of wire, tags, balls of twine, markers, volumes of
garden lore, not to mention innumerable clippings culled from every
periodical he could lay hands on.

It was these latter intellectual wisps that complicated his existence.
He could have managed very well had he not had them to reckon with.
But as they were of a precarious nature and must be guarded against
the gusts that howled through his wind-swept abode, he found it
necessary to make them secure by weighting them down with books, vases,
candlesticks, or any other object that chanced to be within reach. He
tucked pearls of wisdom beneath the clock, behind the mirror, under
the chair legs. He was never separated from his pocket scissors and
whenever he read (and he read a great deal), snip, snip, snip they went
and more information was added to his mounting pile of knowledge.

As a result his dwelling was a place perilous of habitation. Whenever
the door opened a snowstorm of whirling paper greeted the visitor,
forcing him to grope his way through its blinding thickness as through
a winter’s blizzard. Ordinarily Asaph was a mild-tempered person who
seldom raised his voice in anger; but on such occasions he would bawl
shrilly:

“Shut that door, can’t you, you blasted idiot! Don’t you see you’re
turnin’ loose all my cuttin’s?”

Then the unlucky invader, startled by this wrathful reception, would
bang the door with a vim that did but increase the havoc he sought to
check. What a scramble would ensue forthwith, what a chase to recapture
the winged fragments of learning! Behind pictures they skimmed; they
lodged in odd cracks and unfrequented corners, sailing away as if
bewitched. Often, in the excitement of the moment, the hunters would
inadvertently release wisdom already imprisoned and this would augment
the squall.

When at length as many items as it was possible to corral had been
gathered together and anchored, Asaph Holmes would drop panting into a
chair, if he could find one not already preëmpted as a paper-weight;
but when it proved that every seat the room possessed had been pressed
into service and the interior rendered uncomfortable he would gaze
about him for a moment in helpless irritation, then sigh deeply,
and tiptoeing out would turn the key in the door and move into the
adjoining apartment where in due time he repeated the drama.

A month of hoarding would usually throw the four modestly proportioned
rooms on the ground floor out of commission and another month serve to
make the bedrooms uninhabitable; and then, chagrined and mortified,
Asaph Holmes would creep out the back window to the shed roof, drop
softly to the ground, lock up his abode and flee to Lemmy Gill’s,
from which haven he would telephone Hannah Dole to come and set him to
rights.

Hannah was quite accustomed to the summonses; indeed she looked
for them as a means of making both ends meet and would have been
disappointed enough had they not been received. It was never necessary,
therefore, to explain details or give her instructions. She arrived
with her apron under her arm, took the key from behind the kitchen
blind, and opening the door just wide enough for her spare body to
wriggle through the crack she went to work. She knew before leaving
home exactly what she would find and she invariably found precisely
what she expected.

Her only comment was a muttered: “Humph! At it again!”

With that she would start in unceremoniously gathering up the clippings
and jamming them along with hundreds of their predecessors into the
faded blue sea chest beneath the stairs. It mattered not to her that
they were gems of learning. Helter-skelter, in they went! Then she
would collect the stray trowels, shears, envelopes of seed, boxes of
sifted loam, and, having sorted the collection, would transfer it to
the destination she deemed most suitable. The tools she carted to the
shed; armfuls of pamphlets and catalogues were borne to the attic;
boxes of sprouting plants were thrust out of doors. Afterward, having
emptied the various poisonous sprays out of pails, teapots and pitchers
and scoured the premises from top to bottom, she would return the key
to its accustomed peg behind the blind and telephone the master of the
house that he might come home.

She never supplemented the permission with social pleasantries nor did
he. There was a quality in her tone that discouraged airy nothings even
had Asaph been skilled to utter them. The crisp timbre of her voice
and her scantily worded message was courteous enough but somehow it
conveyed a rebuke that caused the proprietor of the estate to shrivel
and feel sheepish as a whipped schoolboy. To carry off the situation
and make possible a continuance of their relations he habitually
scrawled a jaunty line of commendation and, enclosing it with his
check, sent it promptly away to the autocrat by mail.

He could as well have left the money behind the blind in advance,
for Mrs. Dole was unimpeachably honest, and, being a rutty creature,
never varied her charges by the fraction of a cent. But, although
he knew beforehand what the bill would be, he invariably mailed the
wage. The more formal method restored to some extent his injured
dignity and at the same time avoided the possibility of an encounter
with his rescuer. He had not looked Hannah in the face since he could
remember. The acquaintance of these two being of such limited and
laconic a character, it can easily be seen that to accuse Hannah Dole
of _naggin’, proddin’ an’ reformin’_ was base injustice. And yet so
cameo-cut are certain personalities that all unvoiced their opinions
emanate from them. Thus it was with Mrs. Dole.

Never in her life had she been guilty of uttering the assertion that
Asaph Holmes was a disorderly old fogy or framed the sarcasm that he
never would glance a second time at the litter of printed matter he
amassed. Yet in spite of her forbearance she might as well have voiced
the charges, for they breathed in the very corner-to-corner precision
with which the seed catalogues were stacked and the firmness with which
the cover of the sea chest was clamped down.

Nevertheless, if the spirited and flawless performance of her task was
intended as an example, the lesson she sought to convey made but a
shallow imprint on Asaph Holmes’s conscience, for, beyond the fact that
he shrank more timidly each time from sending for his deliverer and
confessing he had again perpetrated the crimes he knew her to deplore,
he did no better for all her teaching.

Whenever he returned from exile he would beam upon his domain from the
threshold and after a second or two of pleased contemplation would
proceed to search out the sprouting seeds and the dislodged trowels.
Other penates, too, he would restore to their accustomed haunts until
before an hour had elapsed one might well have questioned whether the
beneficent presence of Hannah Dole had pervaded the place or not.

Still, there undeniably was in the interior a subtle sense of
spaciousness that awakened in its owner a feeling of luxury and the
impulse to expand. With zeal he immediately set about culling more
clippings, mixing fresh sprays, recruiting additional catalogues even
though all the time he was doing it he was dimly aware of the abyss
of disgrace into which such backsliding would lead him. Hence by the
end of the allotted two months he was again an outlaw and compelled to
subpoena Hannah Dole.

As this cycle of events made its rotation, he resolved every time
that this visit should be her last. He would no longer submit to the
ignominy of being chided by a supercilious female. Tomorrow he would
begin to peruse, classify, and arrange his cuttings and paste them into
books. He would sort his bulb from his seed catalogues and tie them in
bundles. But the utopian tomorrow he pictured never came.

Having been born into the world with a personality of this ilk, is it
to be marvelled at that Asaph Holmes prized his bachelorhood as his
brightest jewel and in no unmistakable terms derided matrimony?

As he bowled along to Zenas Henry Brewster’s to haggle about the wood
he proposed to purchase, who would have imagined an event of such
stupendous proportions impended? Certainly not he. He turned into the
yard trustingly as a child and, pulling up at the back door, dismounted
from his wagon. Even when he entered the kitchen he had no premonition
that Fate stood jeering impishly at his elbow.

Then without warning he spied the woman!

She was, as it happened, washing dishes, but she might as well have
been gathering the apples of the Hesperides, so glorified seemed her
task.

Meantime Abbie, Zenas Henry’s wife, came forward.

“Good-mornin’, Asaph,” ejaculated she. “Why, we haven’t seen you for
weeks. Where have you been keepin’ yourself? Pity Zenas Henry or the
Captains ain’t in. They were speakin’ of you only the other day. Draw
up a chair. I want to make you acquainted with my friend Althea Morton
who’s up from Provincetown visitin’ me.”

In a haze of wonder such as that in which Adam must have first surveyed
Eve, Asaph turned toward the woman. He had, however, one advantage over
his distinguished progenitor--he had previously beheld the sex. But
alas! his superiority did him no good for the woman he now confronted
was like unto no other woman he had ever set eyes upon.

Not that she was so different in appearance, although with her bright
color, vivacity, encouraging smile, and well-proportioned figure she
presented a bewildering ensemble. The characteristic he found novel
and appealing was the gracious simplicity with which she welcomed
him. Females were wont to scent out the fact that he was shy in
their presence and make scant effort to draw him out. But this one
either failed to recognize his limitations or, having detected them,
overleaped them as matters of no consequence. Never had he been
approached with such a degree of understanding, never addressed with
so much courtesy and ease. Under the genial spell he waxed fluent or
thought he did until he afterward discovered that it was Circe and
not he who had done the talking. But he could have talked, that was
the miracle. His tongue was unloosed and to its tip came a score of
observations he might have uttered had the conversation lagged.

Half an hour later he drove home conscious that he had been transformed
into another being altogether. The silent, serene man who had gone to
Wilton to bargain for wood--where was he?

Next day he went to the Brewsters’ again, having recollected that he
had forgotten in his confusion to stipulate that he wished the wood
split, and once more he beheld Althea Morton. How full of spirit she
was! How wholesome and natural! He could not recall ever having met so
enthralling a woman. Asaph’s mental processes, however, were slow and
therefore the possibility of securing the continual companionship of
this peerless creature did not occur to him until a fortnight later,
during which interval he had repeatedly pondered on what a desirable
wife Althea would make for some lonely, quiet man like himself. How her
alert, ingratiating personality would enliven a home! Then gradually
out of these abstractions the realization took form that he was quiet
and lonely and Althea Morton might enliven him. It was a new and
disturbing idea yet withal a pleasant one. Idly conceived, it grew
until it assumed such compelling force that might became must and Asaph
set resolutely to work to possess himself of this gem of womanhood.

There was nothing to hinder the marriage, for he was well-to-do and
his solitary home stood ready to receive a mistress. Moreover, he had
neither kith nor kin to oppose the match. There was no one to object,
no one to rate the inspiration as preposterous except Lemuel Gill.

Here Asaph paused, his enthusiasm experiencing a check.

What was Lemmy going to think of the amazing move--Lemmy, who up to
the present moment had been the paramount consideration of his life?

He knew all too well without asking and if he entertained doubts he
could have them forever set at rest by inquiring, for not only was
Lemmy honesty itself but between the two men existed a friendship tough
of fibre and redolent with frankness. Lemmy could be depended upon to
state without reserve exactly what his opinion of the venture was.

Then of a sudden it came over Asaph that he did not want to know
what Lemuel thought, did not care. Should his crony’s judgment be
unfavorable to the plan it would in no way hinder it. It would merely
create disagreement and hard feeling. For Lemuel would disapprove, that
he knew perfectly well. Had they not often exchanged felicitations
on their untrammeled independence and dwelt with satisfaction on the
compensations of single blessedness?

Furthermore, his friend knew him through and through and was acquainted
with every quirk of his character--his absorption in books, his
horticultural bent, his unmethodical habits. These idiosyncrasies he
would feel it his Christian duty to drag into the daylight as barriers
to any matrimonial enterprise.

Indeed Asaph himself had been obliged to acknowledge there was
something to be said for such arguments. Having granted this, however,
he considered he had done all that honesty required and finding the
facts disagreeable he forthwith swept them aside. Much better reflect
on Althea and her varied charms.

But although he valiantly attempted to do this the thought of Lemmy
Gill would persist. It was going to be awkward to explain his change
of heart to Lemuel; to make clear just why he, who had revelled
in pursuing his tastes unmolested, should now prefer a stranger’s
continual companionship. Besides, Lemmy was sensitive and easily
aggrieved. It was going to cut him to the quick to have a third person
come between them.

Asaph frowned.

The entanglement in which he found himself was embarrassing and
unluckily it was not one from which Hannah Dole could deliver him. He
must face the perplexity alone.

He admitted it was only just, only decent, to consult Lemmy before
taking a step so revolutionary. Why, the two had never so much as
planted a rose-bush without first discussing for a good half-day all
the pros and cons of the project. But with regard to this larger and
more vital issue he confessed, after searching examination, he had not
the courage to take Lemuel into his confidence. He was determined to
wed Althea Morton whether or no, with Lemuel’s consent or without it.
That was what the matter sifted down to.

The discovery of this monstrous breach of friendship appalled and
dismayed him. What enchantment was upon him? What magic spell? It was
the first time during the long span of years they had known one another
that he had ever kept a secret from Lemuel Gill.




                               CHAPTER II


Asaph’s mighty secret would have been less easy to guard had Althea
Morton been staying at Belleport, for gossip travels quickly in a small
Cape Cod village and before a day had elapsed all the town would have
been cognizant of the romance. As it was his pilgrimages to Wilton had
to be explained.

“I’m negotiatin’ with Zenas Henry about some wood,” announced he in
offhand fashion at the post-office, and forthwith the excuse sped about
the hamlet and further speculation was silenced.

But to satisfy Lemuel Gill’s curiosity was not such a simple matter.
Friendship granted him the privilege of asking questions, any number of
them, and no snub or subtle display of reticence discouraged him in the
least.

“Goin’ over to Zenas Henry’s about that load of wood again?” queried
he. “But you’ve been to the Brewsters’ about that blamed wood twice
already. What you goin’ a third time for?”

The sharp little eyes bored like gimlets through his colleague.
Nevertheless there was nothing offensive in Lemuel’s gaze. He was
interested, that was all, and the inquisitiveness he now manifested
was no greater than that in which he had habitually indulged for
the past quarter of a century. Under other circumstances Asaph would
scarce have noticed it or would even have welcomed the interrogations,
cheerfully replying to them with a good-humored grin and a statement
as to his exact reason for making another journey to the adjoining
village. Furthermore he would, in all probability, have urged Lemuel to
accompany him.

But today he did none of these things.

Instead he flushed irritably and tried to shift the conversation into
another channel.

“So I have,” he murmured. “Still, you can’t get nothin’ in this world
without takin’ some trouble about it.”

“But a load of wood,--” pressed Lemuel. “Why ’tain’t worth goin’ eight
miles for once, let alone travellin’ the distance three times. You’ll
double its cost in wear to your wagon.”

“Mebbe. Still the ride’s a pleasant one an’--”

“Oh, if you’re just goin’ a-ridin’!” sniffed the inquisitor. “But with
the work you’ve got laid out--cultivatin’, weedin’ an’ the like, I
didn’t look for you to go ridin’ out. You said yesterday you figgered
on sprayin’ your roses this mornin’.”

“So I did! So I did,” hedged Asaph.

“You certainly don’t expect to do it when you get back; ’twill be near
noon.”

“Likely I may not be gone that long an’ if I am I can do my sprayin’
tomorrow.”

“You told me I could use the sprayer tomorrow,” came from Lemmy in an
aggrieved tone.

“You can an’ welcome.”

“But I’ve no notion of borrowin’ it when you’re plannin’ to use it
yourself.”

“I can wait. It don’t matter a mite when I do my roses.”

Through wide-open blue eyes Lemuel Gill scanned his friend’s
countenance.

“Why, Asaph Holmes, you were declarin’ not three days ago that every
one of them roses in that front bed bid fair to be et up by aphids
unless you got after ’em straight away.”

In sickly fashion Asaph grinned.

“I reckon I was sorter het up when I made that statement, Lemmy.”

“Still, there’s aphids on your Dorothy Perkins’s. I saw ’em myself.”

“I’m goin’ to tend to ’em.”

“When?”

“Late this afternoon, mebbe.”

“’Tain’t good to spray roses toward nightfall. You read that to me out
of one of your clippin’s once and cautioned me against doin’ it.”

“Did I? I’ve got so many of them confounded clippin’s I can’t for the
life of me remember what half of ’em say.”

The jauntiness of the tone more than the words that accompanied it
caught Lemuel’s attention, and spreading his legs far apart, he riveted
his eyes on his comrade’s face.

“Say, Asaph, what’s the matter with you anyway?” he demanded.

Here was Asaph Holmes’s golden opportunity! If he was ever going to
impart to Lemmy Gill the great tidings of his contemplated change of
plans, a natural opening now presented itself. In one sentence he could
clear his conscience of the load that weighed it down. The secret
trembled on the tip of his tongue. He glanced furtively at Lemmy.

Standing there in the sunshine, his eyes starry with curiosity and his
sandy hair up-ended in the breeze, his crony’s short figure appeared
ridiculously youthful--too youthful to be entrusted with such important
intelligence. Moreover, Asaph remembered his artlessness, and how prone
he was to prattle ingenuously to the first person he met any news that
interested him. No, he dared not impart so fragile a tale as his love
affair to Lemuel. Indeed, when all was said and done, what was it but
a dream, a mad and beautiful imagining? Why, he had only seen Althea
Morton twice! On the strength of those two short interviews it would be
preposterous to assert he was going to marry her.

Therefore he fumbled with the button on his cuff and responded
nonchalantly:

“Nothin’ in the world. Mebbe after all I had better put off the Wilton
trip till afternoon an’ do my sprayin’ now.”

“You’d much better,” beamed Lemuel, wholly satisfied. “Delay goin’ till
after dinner an’ I’ll flax round an’ go with you.”

“Oh, I’ll have to be leavin’ before that time,” Asaph hastened to
protest. “I’ve got a peck of errands to do. Were I to wait till noon I
wouldn’t get ’em done before nightfall.”

“What you goin’ to buy?” asked Lemmy, too much interested to let the
rebuff he had received ruffle him.

“Collars, chicken-feed--lots of things.”

“Goin’ to get ’em at Wilton?”

“I may’s well, long’s I’m drivin’ through.”

“’Twill hurt Eben Snow’s feelin’s to have you go patronizin’ the Wilton
store instead of his.”

“He won’t know nothin’ about it.”

“Oh, he’ll know all right. Everybody knows everything in this town.
Folks read your inmost thoughts almost before you think ’em.”

At the words Asaph colored uncomfortably.

“Nobody’s goin’ to read my inmost thoughts,” he answered with a touch
of humor. “Eb Snow ain’t goin’ to be the wiser for any shoppin’ I do
unless you tell him.”

“I sha’n’t tell him nothin’. But he’ll know for all that. People will
see you drivin’ home an’ spy the bags of grain in the wagon.”

“I can’t help it,” returned Asaph with a mild suggestion of impatience.
“I’ve got the right to buy things where I please, ain’t I?”

“It’ll be nuts for Silas Nickerson to have you comin’ to Wilton to
shop. He’ll make no end of talk about it. He’ll tell folks you couldn’t
get no collars nor chicken-feed in Belleport an’ so had to tote over
there for ’em. He’s always crackin’ up his town. I thought he’d never
have done talkin’ when Bijah Sole picked a Wilton wife. Si said that
evidently our place couldn’t boast a smart woman. But when Lyman Bearse
up an’ answered that the trouble was the Belleport women were too smart
to marry Bijah he kinder quit braggin’.”

Asaph, however, failed to echo the guffaw that concluded the story.

He had started precipitately for the house.

“I must get to sprayin’,” called he, “before the sun rises higher.”

As he disappeared into the shed he caught a glimpse of Lemmy jogging
off down the lane, and to make sure no hard feeling existed between
them he waved cordially to his comrade. Then as he bent to stir into a
can a turquoise mixture of Bordeaux his brow wrinkled.

It was not pleasant to reflect that Silas Nickerson would probably
make similar assertions with regard to his marriage. Still Belleport
would be more ready to forgive him for wedding a Provincetown wife than
if she were a native of Wilton. That was some comfort.

Feverishly he sprayed his roses, and by keeping a tight rein on his
inclinations and not allowing himself to be led into hunting cut-worms,
thinning out his poppies, which sorely needed it, or weeding his iris
border, by eleven o’clock he was ready to set out for the adjoining
town. As he stole off as quietly as he could in his wagon he felt
guilty and selfish not to have delayed until afternoon and taken Lemmy
with him. The little man had no horse and keenly enjoyed a drive.

“But I just can’t take him today,” replied he to his conscience.
“Things are too ticklish. He might mess up everything. Some day I’ll
make it up to him. He shall have three or four rides--half a dozen.”

Thus quieting the accusations that assailed him, he turned into the
highway that edged the Belleport shore.

It was a day when to the very horizon the ocean was a dazzling reach of
blue flecked into splendor by the gold of the sun and the snowy sails
of scudding schooners. Little creeks that gave back the azure of the
sky cut paths across the marshes, dredging channels for themselves amid
swaying sedge, tough, salt, and vividly green. Inland in the bordering
swamps azalea was just coming into bloom and purple flags stained to
amethyst the dark pools of tide water. A vague satisfaction in this
beauty mingled with Asaph’s reveries as he drove along. The sea, the
ships, the tiny winding inlets were things he loved, things he would
not have been parted from at any price and yet things he every day
passed by with nothing more than a subconscious realization of their
existence.

Today his mind was much more engrossed by the thought of Althea or even
the collars and chicken-feed than by the glory of the world about him.
Nevertheless, he could not have been oblivious to it for he drank in
the cool breeze with pleasure and was dimly aware of the perfume of
sun-dried pine and budding roses.

The riot of color had faded into dull mist when he returned, and Lemuel
Gill was sitting on the front steps awaiting him.

“You’ve been an awful while,” called he in a tone of relief. “I was
’most afraid somethin’ had befell you.”

“Oh, no.”

“But you’ve been gone so long. I s’pose you ran afoul of Silas
Nickerson an’ couldn’t make your escape. What a critter he is for
wormin’ gossip out of folks! He’d keep a man in that store till
doomsday pumpin’ him. Get your collars?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Don’t tell me Silas didn’t have the size! My eye! Sorry as I am you
should be disappointed, I’m tickled to death he was out of ’em. Reckon
he was peeved enough to have somebody from Belleport ketch him nappin’.
He prides himself no end on never lettin’ his goods run out of stock.
Wait till I tell Eben Snow there warn’t a sixteen collar in the place.
He’ll be so pleased ’twill mor’n make up to him for your goin’ to
Wilton to shop.”

As Lemuel rubbed his hands and smiled, a dull red flush rose to Asaph’s
forehead.

“Silas warn’t out of collars fur’s I know.”

“What?”

“I didn’t ask for ’em.”

“O-h! Forgot ’em, eh?”

Receiving no answer he waited; then his face, clouded with ebbing
triumph, brightened.

“But you got your chicken-feed,” ventured he.

“I didn’t get anything. I didn’t go near the Wilton post-office.”

“What on earth have you been doin’ till this time of night?”

“Visitin’ at Zenas Henry’s.”

“You mean to say you’ve been at Brewsters’ ever since eleven o’clock
this mornin’?”

“I didn’t get there till close onto noon,” explained Asaph, a warning
note of annoyance giving crispness to his embarrassment.

“An’ you’ve been hangin’ round there till now?”

The picture presented was so unflattering the lover flinched.

“I’ve been there, yes.”

“What doin’?”

“Talkin’.”

“Zenas Henry must have had an awful lot to say. What was the news?”

Lemmy drew closer, his eyes avid with interest.

“I warn’t talkin’ with him. He warn’t home.”

“Oh, the Three Captains were holdin’ forth, were they? Benjamin Todd’s
a great gossip. He can spin a yarn out of most anythin’. I like to
listen to him myself when he gets well a-goin’.”

There was no help for it. Asaph saw the truth must out.

“None of the Captains were home, neither. They’d gone fishin’.”

“Wal’, Abbie Brewster is an entertainin’ woman but I never knew of your
spendin’ hours in her company before.”

“She warn’t there. She’d gone to Brockton.”

Mystified, Lemmy stroked his chin.

“Then who in tunket was you talkin’ to?” he burst out.

“A friend of Abbie’s who’s a-visitin’.”

“A woman?”

Asaph nodded.

Lemuel looked dazed.

“Seems to me I did hear down to the store the Brewsters had somebody
stayin’ with ’em,” said he slowly. “But you certainly warn’t talkin’ to
her from high noon till most supper time.”

“’Twarn’t really long when you come to think of it.”

“’Twas about five hours.”

“Mebbe.”

“’Twas all of that.” Lemuel appeared for a moment to be bereft of
words. Then he added with a touch of malice: “She must ’a’ been
almighty interestin’.”

“She was,” was the curt retort.

Something in its tartness, something in his friend’s flushed
countenance and the sudden movement he made to bend and pull a blade of
grass from the roadside caused Lemuel Gill to crumple up weakly against
the picket fence.

“Lord!” he murmured.

“It ain’t goin’ to make a mite of difference twixt you an’ me, Lemmy,”
his companion declared eagerly. “We’re goin’ on with our gardenin’ an’
all same’s before. Althea’s got to expect that. In fact as I figger it,
I’m goin’ to have more time for diggin’ round an’ workin’ at my plants
married than single. More leisure for readin’ too, I hope. Althea’s an
awful nice woman, Lemmy. You’ll like her. You can’t help it. She’s a
fine cook, too. I had a chance to sample some of her bakin’ this noon
an’ ’twas good as any I ever ate. Take everything together seems to me
I’m goin’ to be better off than I ever was in my life. If only you--”
The onrush of his words was halted by sudden timidity.

“If I don’t mind, you mean?” Lemmy contrived to stammer. “Pshaw!
’Course I don’t. ’Most everybody marries--some of ’em two an’ three
times. I’d be a great kind of a friend if I was to stand in the way of
your bein’ happy. Don’t go worryin’ about me. Most likely I sha’n’t
give the matter a second thought.”

For all his bluster, the bravado the little man tried to maintain
weakened toward the final clause of his sentence and there was a quaver
in the words.

A wave of self accusation swept over Asaph.

Only too well he realized his happiness had been purchased at a
price--the price of Lemmy Gill’s.




                              CHAPTER III


It was July when Asaph Holmes made Althea his wife and brought her home
to Belleport. The marriage was a quiet one, taking place at Abington,
the residence of her sister, and even Lemuel Gill did not attend it.

“’Course I’ll go, Asaph, if you say the word,” asserted the little man,
“though it does seem kinder foolish for me to traipse way up there for
a ten-minute ceremony. Nevertheless if there’s aught of comfort in
havin’ me at hand I’m ready to stand by.”

“I know you are, Lemmy,” was the earnest reply. “But there wouldn’t be
the least use in your goin’.”

“I ’magined there wouldn’t,” Lemuel answered with evident relief.
“It’s one of them times, I guess, when only heaven can help you. So I
reckon the best thing I can do is to stay behind an’ keep a weather
eye on your belongin’s. There’ll be ice to get in against your return,
an’ butter, too; an’ should the weather be dry the garden will need
waterin’. You can’t leave the whole place to go to the dogs even if you
are gettin’ married.”

The tart comment that concluded Lemuel’s words was the first he had
uttered and his crony generously passed it by.

“It will be mighty reassurin’ to know somebody’s at this end of the
route,” declared he. “A house gets musty when it’s shut up an’ though I
don’t plan to be away mor’n a few days I’ll feel a lot easier with you
on the spot. Of course there’ll be Hannah Dole. I had to send for her
to come an’ straighten things up. There’s been so many odds an’ ends
round lately owin’ to spring plantin’ an’ all that I’ve run into one of
them crowded spells. However, this visit will be her last--thank the
Lord for that!”

For the first time he smiled into the eyes of his colleague--one of his
frank, whimsical smiles--and Lemuel smiled back.

“Under those conditions you may’s well give Hannah your blessin’ an’
let her do her darndest,” drawled he.

Each man drew a breath of relief that the delicate situation had been
so amicably adjusted.

Lemuel never went on journeys now-a-days. In the past he had been a
continual wanderer, cruising as cook on a freighter to almost every
port under the sun and having no permanent abode. But now that he
had abandoned the sea and had a domicil of his own he could not be
coaxed away from it. For years he had not been out of Belleport.
Having indulged himself in this stay-at-home habit he had become
so unaccustomed to travel that its complexities terrified him until
even a short detour from his own threshold assumed the nerve-racking
proportions of a voyage round the globe.

In the particular instance of Asaph’s marriage, he not only dreaded
going away but also shrank from braving through in the presence
of strangers an event which at best could be nothing for him but
an ordeal. Besides, he had nothing to wear--a feminine reason, he
humorously conceded, but in his case a very real one. His wardrobe
was not a thing that normally interested him. Indeed it was the last
consideration in his budget (if he boasted a budget). So long as his
garments could be coaxed to hang together he wore them regardless of
their appearance, rating such accessories as shirt and collars of very
slight importance when weighed against the possession of a Lafayette
rose. It was calamity enough that so large a percentage of his meagre
income must be expended for bread and butter; but he had long ago
discovered one could exist with astonishingly few coats and trousers.

All these facts Asaph understood far better than Lemmy could have
explained them and therefore was only too glad to spare his pal not
alone the expense but also the exactions the Abington trip would
entail. Moreover, everybody did not appreciate Lemuel and he had
a premonition that perhaps Althea’s relatives might not. He was an
unconventional creature. Too sincere for pretense, he made no effort to
appear other than he was--a shabby, simple-minded, ingenuous fisherman
into whose cheek was burned the brine of the deep and whose eyes were
faded by the glitter of its dancing waters.

Asaph Holmes was not ashamed of Lemmy. On the contrary he was far
too proud of him, too sensitive to his worth to place him where he
might not be appraised in his true value. Abington was a bigger town
than Belleport and the Tylers liable to be governed by more worldly
standards than those that prevailed in his own village. But more
weighty than any of these arguments was the fact that Althea had never
yet seen Lemuel and he was eager the first impression she received
of his friend should be under the most favorable of circumstances.
Lemmy, awkward and ill at ease in city clothes and irritated by the
unaccustomed restraints of collar and tie, would, he realized, present
anything but an ingratiating appearance.

Even Asaph himself winced before the prospect of the approaching
festivities and inwardly confessed he should be heartily glad when they
were over and he and his bride safe at home. However, the tomfoolery
had to be gone through with, and buoying up his courage by the
philosophy that everything has an end he struggled not to betray to
Lemuel his perturbation.

“Thank goodness I ain’t got to stay at Abington with them Tylers
forever,” muttered he when alone. “I guess I can manage to stand ’em
for a couple of days. Once I get Althea away from ’em I don’t plan
to do much visitin’ in that quarter, nor mean she shall neither.
Abington’s a good distance off. I’m almighty thankful it’s no nearer.”

Yet, in spite of this stoical point of view, when the moment for his
departure came he was obviously nervous and so was Lemuel Gill who,
fighting to conceal his emotion, bravely watched him out of sight down
the road that edged the harbor.

Everything had been left in what the prospective groom termed apple-pie
order. The key for Hannah Dole hung on its peg behind the blind; a
saucer of fish had been put out for the cat; the annuals sending
up delicate green shoots in the shelter of the hollyhocks had been
carefully cultivated.

“The place is in the pink of condition, Lemmy,” he asserted as the two
friends parted. “I’ve sprayed every rose an’ pulled up every durn weed.
You won’t find a thing to do.”

Notwithstanding the declaration, however, no sooner was the owner of
the establishment out of sight than Lemuel decided to investigate.

“He’s so addle-pated ’bout that woman he much as ever knows which way
he’s goin’,” soliloquized he. “He ain’t been himself since first he
clapped eyes on her. An’ tellin’ me his marryin’ warn’t goin’ to make
no difference. Lord! Why, he’s changed a’ready. He’s begun to worry
even now lest Althea won’t like this an’ won’t like that, an’ will go
shiftin’ things around when she gets here. An’ she will, too--mark my
words. She’ll start straight in reformin’ the premises before her hat’s
off. See if she don’t. All women do. It’s in their blood.

“Look at Hannah Dole. Is she content to kinder dust off Asaph’s
possessions an’ leave ’em where she finds ’em? Not she! Nothin’ will
satisfy her but to heave round every article in the place an’ whisk a
broom where ’twas standin’. Let a room just get so’st things are handy
an’ easy of reach an’ in she comes an’ begins cartin’ off everything in
sight till it’s a marvel Asaph ever finds ’em again. She relishes doin’
it, too, even if she does pretend the job is almost mor’n she can bear.”

There may have been an element of truth in Lemuel’s accusation.

Certainly when Mrs. Dole came hither on this, her final pilgrimage, the
weathered cottage on the bluff received an extra overhauling. Her zeal
was as the zeal of ten. She beat and brushed, mopped and scoured with a
zest never before equalled.

“Poor Asaph!” lamented Lemuel, who had crept up to peep through the
blinds at the unconscious toiler. “He’ll be a month locatin’ his tools
an’ catalogues. The very devil seems to be at Hannah’s heels this time.
Most likely she realizes it’s her last chance; or mebbe she has a
notion to demonstrate to another woman what she can do in the cleanin’
line when once she puts every ounce of elbow grease she’s got into the
job. Anyhow she’s scrubbin’ like a demon. Almost before light she was
out emptyin’ all the sprayin’ mixtures into the glory-hole an’ rinsin’
out the cans. Asaph won’t thank her for that. He’ll just have to stir
more together soon’s her back is turned. But there’s no use tellin’ her
so. Once she sets out on a course there’s no stoppin’ her. Besides,
Hannah ain’t one you’d dare meddle with. Were I to object to what she’s
doin’ she might up an’ leave an’ then where’d I be? No, she better be
left free rein to do her worst unmolested. The foundations of the house
are firm an’ the roof’s nailed on.”

Hence Lemuel placed no restraining hand on Mrs. Dole’s efforts. But
after her sweeping orgy was over and she had hung the key in its usual
place he came to get it, and viewing with consternation the spotless
stark interior she had left behind her, exclaimed:

“My eye! It looks more as if there’d been a funeral goin’ on here than
a weddin’. It actually seems as if I’d oughter strew somethin’ round
to make the place seem homelike. Still, I figger I’ll not tinker with
Hannah’s handiwork; she might come back an’ discover it. Besides,
’tain’t as if the rooms were goin’ to stay this way. Once Asaph returns
he’ll have ’em all easy an’ comfortable again in no time.”

But when Lemuel beheld Althea he did not feel so certain of this
sanguine prophecy coming true.

He was at the gate to welcome the newly wedded couple on their arrival,
having spent the entire morning in preparation for the event. Awake at
sunrise, he resolved to offer on the altar of friendship his dearest
treasure, and steeling himself to the sacrifice he cut an armful of
his choicest peonies and delphinium and arranged the flowers in a vase
beneath the red worsted motto: _God Bless Our Home_.

Then he aired the house; purchased ice, bread, butter and sufficient
provisions to tide over the mistress of the domain until she should
have opportunity to assume for herself these domestic cares. Afterward,
having plucked the last straggling weed from Asaph’s garden, clipped
from the rose bed the fading blooms, and watered the window boxes, he
sat down to wait, turning his back on the house lest he yield to the
persistent temptation to strew a few catalogues and clippings about the
interior.

As the moment of meeting drew nearer misgivings assailed him. Suppose
he did not like Althea? Or, what was more terrifying, suppose she did
not like him. The latter was the possibility that alarmed him, for he
was determined to vanquish the former contingency. Indeed, he would not
give the thought of not liking Althea harborage. He was going to like
her. Asaph did. Why should not he?

Nevertheless, stoutly as he maintained this attitude he realized full
well that do what he might he could not control Althea’s preferences.
What if she should regard him with animosity and make no effort to
check the impulse?

That was the dread that weighed on his spirits and that was why he
today donned collar and tie, put on fresh overalls, plastered his
rebellious locks sleek to his forehead, and cut the spires of larkspur
that it wrung his heart to sever from the stalks.

“I’ve got to expect to make some effort to please her,” reasoned he.
“Then if I do my full part an’ fail to make a go of it, I’ll have
nothin’ to cuss myself for. A lot depends on the three of us startin’
right.”

Apparently Asaph also realized this truth, for during the homeward
journey, naturally as an April shower falls from the clouds, the name
of his crony fell from his lips.

“You’re goin’ to like Lemmy, Althea,” he remarked as they drove along.
And later he said:

“I’m bankin’, Althea, on you an’ Lemmy bein’ great friends.”

And when at last a curve of the shore was reached from which the
silvery grey cottage could be seen, with an anxiety he could no longer
conceal he ventured earnestly:

“I do hope you are goin’ to take to Lemmy for he’s the best friend I
have on earth--that is, outside of you,” he amended with haste. “You
won’t, mebbe, find him much at first. He ain’t great on appearances,
Lemmy ain’t. But the heart inside him--” Emotion halted further
utterance and to bridge his embarrassment Althea inquired kindly:

“Tell me about him.”

“Lord! I thought I had. Seems to me I’ve been talkin’ of him most of
the time I’ve been away. You mean his looks? Wal, I ain’t sure’s I can.
I’ve never thought much about ’em.”

“But you know whether he’s short or tall.”

“He’s short, I guess. Yes, he must be, ’cause I recollect he’s always
havin’ to take a slice off the legs of his new overalls quick’s he buys
’em.”

The bride laughed. She had fine white teeth and was at her best when
showing them. Asaph liked to see her laugh.

“He’s short, then; that’s settled. Now for his complexion. Surely
after all these years you should know whether he is light or dark.”

“I reckon I should,” agreed her husband, “but I’m not certain I do. You
see I’ve never picked Lemmy to pieces. I’ve just taken him as he was.
Mebbe his eyes are blue. They’d oughter be ’cause his hair is sorter
light--carroty, some folks call it; but I don’t consider it that color.
It may be sandy an’ I reckon ’tis. But it ain’t carroty--it certainly
ain’t that.”

“Does Mr. Gill--”

“Oh, for pity sakes don’t call him Mr. Gill, Althea. Nobody ever called
him that in his life an’ should you begin doin’ it ’twould scare him
so’st he’d most likely start runnin’ an’ never stop. Furthermore, he
ain’t Mister. If you must put a handle before his name (which I pray
you won’t) make it Captain.”

“Oh, he has commanded a ship, has he?”

Asaph looked disconcerted.

“Wal’, no--not quite that--at least, not exactly. But he was somethin’
important aboard a freighter once an’ so folks have dropped into
speakin’ of him as Cap’n.”

It did not seem opportune just then to explain to his wife precisely
the nature of the important post Lemuel had held aboard the _Clara D_.

“I hope he’s goin’ to like me,” mused Althea aloud.

“Like you! ’Course he is. Lemmy likes everybody.” Then, sensing the
assurance contained no great compliment, he foundered on: “Furthermore,
my likin’ you will be enough for Lemmy.”

“But I want him to like me for myself,” protested Althea prettily.

Here was a chance for a courtier’s tongue, and had Asaph been skilled
in making graceful speeches he would doubtless have seized on the
opportunity to bestow on the lady beside him a few words of delicate
flattery; lacking this training he answered instead:

“Oh, he will; don’t you fret about that. Lemuel ain’t hard to please.
Give him a little time. Folks can learn to like anything if they keep
tryin’ long enough. I remember as a lad I never could abide turnips;
but my mother fed ’em to me till now I’ve come to relish ’em most as
much as any other vegetable.”

Althea drew in her chin. Then her sense of humor came to her aid, and
reaching over she patted the hand of the big, clumsy man at her elbow.

There was time for no further demonstration for just at this juncture
the stage drew up before Asaph’s door, and Lemuel Gill, hatless and
smiling, came forward to greet the travelers.

His welcome carried something that would instantly have disarmed
antagonism had Althea been armed with it. Good will spoke in his every
gesture, and even a tender solicitude was evident in the care with
which he helped her out of the grimy wagon and took her bag.

His eyes, as Asaph had surmised, were blue, and they shone now with
bright, unwavering friendliness. But prejudiced indeed must one have
been who failed to recognize his hair as carroty. Yet, notwithstanding
the hue of his locks and the casualness of the garments that covered
his loose, slouching figure, there was a buoyant youthfulness about
him, a warmth and sincerity that charmed.

Althea gave him her hand and felt the color flood her face as with
curiosity his artless gaze swept it.

Then Asaph put to rout the tension of the moment by exclaiming jovially:

“Bless my soul, Lemmy! If you ain’t all dolled out in a collar an’
necktie! Althea can’t say you ain’t paid her the highest honors.”

“I meant to,” was the grave retort.

What woman could resist such homage?

Certainly not Althea, who saw in the little man a quality all women
love.

“I hope we’re goin’ to be friends--you an’ I,” she responded timidly.

“We’re goin’ to if it rests with me,” beamed Lemuel.

They had gone indoors and the bride turned to look about her.

“My, Asaph, how neat your house looks!” commented she. “I’m glad to
find you such an orderly housekeeper. If there’s anything I can’t abide
it’s dirt an’ untidiness.”

Lemuel cast a quick glance at his comrade, and seeing him on the brink
of a confession interrupted with feverish haste:

“Asaph’s an all-right housekeeper in his way, marm; but his biggest
talents show outdoors. Did you twig his garden as you came along?”

“Phoo, phoo, Lemmy--nonsense! Why, I ain’t ever raised a thing could
compare with your lilies an’ delphinium.”

They were sauntering from the hall into the sitting room and a cry from
Althea cut short the argument.

“Oh!” murmured she, pointing to the mass of bloom that all but
concealed the motto opposite her.

“You didn’t cut down your larkspur, Lemmy,” gasped Asaph, aghast at the
sight.

“I snipped some of it off,” answered Lemuel, lightly. “Folks ain’t
married every day.”

“But your best hybrids--an’ the peonies!”

“They’re beautiful,” broke in Althea softly. “I couldn’t have had,
Lemmy, a present that would have pleased me more.”

With feminine understanding she laid her hand shyly on the arm of the
little man.

The Rubicon had been crossed. They were friends.

       *       *       *       *       *

“I reckon ’twas worth it,” drawled Lemmy Gill, when, that evening,
alone in his garden, he ruefully surveyed the naked stalks that towered
into the gloom. “Flowers have a way of sayin’ for you things you can’t
say yourself. Had I tried a lifetime I couldn’t ’a’ made clear to
Althea what them delphiniums did.”




                               CHAPTER IV


Belleport experienced no slight shock in the whirlwind courtship and
marriage of Asaph Holmes, and immediately the romance became the chief
topic of interest in the town’s social calendar. Curiosity to see the
bride and hear about her obsessed old and young.

A few of the villagers had been fortunate enough to meet Althea at the
Brewsters, and these found themselves besieged with queries concerning
her. She must be a paragon indeed to have transformed a confirmed
bachelor like Asaph into a benedict. Why, nobody dreamed he would ever
marry. He wasn’t the marrying sort. Moreover, were not he and Lemuel
Gill almost twin souls?

What did poor Lemmy think of the affair? It must have been a staggering
blow to him.

Thus they whispered and speculated together.

It was not malicious gossip, merely the chatter of neighbors who
had known Asaph from boyhood and known his father and mother before
him. Not a twist of his character was there with which they were not
familiar. They knew of his veneration for Webster; his garden, his
clippings, his catalogues; knew, too, of the visitations of Hannah
Dole with an intimacy that would have appalled the shy man had he been
aware of their knowledge. Oh, there was little about him they did not
know. Hence when it came to checking him up there was no need for them
to give his personal history more than a cursory glance.

But the woman he had married, this outlander from down the Cape, who
was she and what was her ancestry? These were the burning questions.
The seal of friendship set upon her by the Brewsters counted, to
be sure, for something, for they were persons of standing whose
sanction carried weight. Sensing this and hopeful of wresting from
them more information, some of the more inquisitive Belleporters made
a pilgrimage to Wilton to glean from Zenas Henry and his wife such
facts as were procurable. Zeke Barker, in the meantime, outdid them in
enterprise and became the hero of the hour by driving to Provincetown
and acquiring from Althea’s neighbors additional data with which to
augment the common fund. By piecing these scattered fragments together,
and putting with them items contained in a letter Mattie Bearse
received from her Abington cousin, a fairly accurate idea of Althea
Holmes and her forebears was obtained, and, disappointed that the
investigation yielded such a meagre foothold for scandal, the populace
was obliged to concede there seemed to be nothing in the past of
Asaph’s bride for which she need blush.

Apparently she came of the same rugged Cape stock as did they
themselves, and her history paralleled that of the average New
Englander of sea-faring ancestry. This summary must content them until
such time as she should make her advent into the community and they be
granted a more intimate glimpse of her.

When, therefore, the happy pair arrived in town the waiting hamlet was
a-tiptoe with excitement, and immediately a stream of visitors began to
flow toward the silver cottage on the bluff. Some came to bear friendly
greetings; others to invite the wedded couple to supper or urge Althea
to join the Ladies’ Sewing Circle, the Eastern Star, or the Reading
Club.

To the master of the house this influx of guests was a novel and, it
must be owned, a not altogether welcome experience. Shy by nature and
having fostered the tendency by a hermit-like existence, he found the
rôle of jovial host a difficult one to portray. He had at his command
little talk that did not relate to his hobbies and it hardly seemed
worthwhile to offer this to the flitting herd that swarmed his doors.
Furthermore, years of solitary living had solidified the ruts in
which he moved until to be jolted out of them by intruders jarred and
irritated.

When at last he had been constantly interrupted until the weeds were
knee deep in his iris border and his roses showed signs of blackspot,
he felt it necessary to offer the suggestion of an apology to Lemuel
Gill.

“’Course I s’pose it’s to be expected folks will come troopin’ here at
first,” remarked he. “Likely they consider it polite. Their galavantin’
will soon be over, though, an’ their curiosity gratified, an’ then I’ll
have a chance to get to work. I’m about beat out with company an’ I
guess Althea is, too.”

Later he ventured to commiserate his bride on their common misfortune.

“It’s too bad you’ve been so pestered with folks comin’ to see you,”
he said sympathetically. “I reckon, though, there’s nothin’ to be
done about it but brave through the hurricane till it blows over. Our
marryin’ seems to have stirred up quite a tempest. But it’ll calm down
before long an’ the public will leave us alone.”

Althea glanced quickly into his face.

“I hope not,” answered she. “I like visitors. At home folks were always
droppin’ in to talk or borrow somethin’. It livened us up an’ kept us
from gettin’ lonesome.”

Her husband sobered.

“I hope you ain’t goin’ to be lonesome here, Althea,” he returned, a
note of anxiety in his voice.

“I don’t look to be,” was the grave response. “I’ve my housework, an’
plenty to do don’t leave a body leisure for mopin’. Besides, ain’t you
here to cheer me up?”

The great fellow colored with pleasure. Until lately Althea had
maintained toward him a piquing reserve that continually left him
speculating as to the heights and depths of her regard; but since
marriage, although still charmingly elusive, she had gradually lowered
the bars that held him in check, a fact that delighted her husband.
Had he been of more intuitive a nature he would have understood that
this change of demeanor was largely the result of his own attitude
toward her. Asaph Holmes had been brought up under the tutelage of a
good mother, who early in life had instilled into him both chivalry and
consideration for all womanhood. Hence, although his circle of feminine
acquaintances did not extend any great radius beyond his own doorsill,
he was much better versed in what constituted a happy marriage than
was many a man of wider experience. This Althea was learning, and in
proportion as the truth seeped in upon her she gave freer rein to her
affection, congratulating herself that her union with this silent,
awkward man had been no mistake. To marry was at best a venture, and to
embark on the experiment late in life was, her level head told her, a
madness to be matched by no other human undertaking. Yet in her sudden
romance there had been qualities that convinced her the affair could
not culminate in disaster.

Had Asaph Holmes been an ardent, hot-blooded wooer she would have
feared to trust his promises. But this man, earnest, pleading,
self-effacing, scorning to pledge himself to more than he knew he could
honestly perform, appealed to her truth-seeking heart. What mattered
it that his words were few; that he was studious, matter-of-fact, and
a good ten years her senior? He could be trusted, and experience told
her every man could not. Long ago, in girlhood, a lover dashing and
debonair had crossed her path, and the black shadow he had left behind
him caused her even yet to shrink from any repetition of his type.

But Sarah Tyler, more worldly-minded and eager for family advancement,
could see in the match little to commend it.

“I can’t for the life of me, Althea, understand why you should want to
go marryin’ that big, hulkin’ fisherman. Not only is he years older
than you but he’s dumb as an oyster. A whistlin’ buoy off the coast
would be cheerful company compared to him. With your looks and figger
you ought to be able to do better’n that.”

Althea did not vouchsafe to this criticism any of the several retorts
she might have been justified in offering. She did not, for example,
reply that Asaph Holmes had plenty to say to anyone who had the brains
to talk with him; neither did she utter the tart response that when it
came to husbands she did not see that Sarah herself had selected from
the myriad masculine varieties with which the universe was peopled, a
particularly flawless specimen of the sex. She did not even trouble to
lay bare for her sister’s inspection the heart that like a jewel lay
beneath Asaph’s prosaic exterior. Instead, she laughed off the comment
by declaring good-humoredly:

“After all, Sarah, it’s I and not you that’s got to live with him,” and
ruefully acknowledging the truth of the assertion, Mrs. Tyler said no
more.

In Belleport, however, where Asaph was known and universally respected,
judgment assumed precisely the opposite tack.

“A woman don’t half know how lucky she is to get a husband like Asaph
Holmes,” announced Marcia Snow to the assembled sewing circle. “He
may be deliberate and scant of talk, but he’s kindness itself an’ as
dependable as the sun. He won’t go whiskin’ round an’ start chasin’ off
in some other direction after he’s married. The wife that’s got him has
got him for life.

“But what’s he drawn, I’d like to know? Oh, I’ve seen her an’ I
don’t deny she’s pleasant to meet; good lookin’, too, with her curly
hair, red cheeks an’ all. But what kind of a wife is she goin’ to
make him--that’s the question I’m askin’? She must be younger than
he by a dozen years an’ is evidently one of those chatty, sociable
creatures that’ll drag him round a-visitin’ an’ break up all the
quiet of his home. She ain’t a-goin’ to be no person to live out on
that lonely point of sand with a bookworm like Asaph Holmes. She’ll
never be contented there in the world. Before a year’s out there’ll be
ructions--you see if there ain’t!”

The pair concerning whom this dubious prophecy was uttered were in
the meantime evidently oblivious to their impending fate, and not
anticipating any violent domestic upheaval Althea took possession of
her new home with interest. She hung ruffled curtains at the windows,
invested in additional china, put plants, table-covers, and bric-à-brac
about, made fresh sofa cushions.

With conflicting emotions her husband surveyed her innovations.
There was no disputing the fact that they rendered the cottage more
pretentious and up to date. But did they make it more homelike? Amid
the galaxy of objects that now adorned the rooms little space was to be
found for his catalogues and clippings. To be sure he still collected
them, tucking them into obscure corners, since he dared not weight them
down with Althea’s bridal ornaments. As a result they more frequently
took wing. For these literary cyclones he was always apologetic and
his wife forgiving. Nevertheless, beneath their courtesy simmered
mutual irritation.

Then there were the tools, the cans of insecticide, the boxes of
loam, the strings, wires, and markers that gradually stole beyond the
confines allotted them by Hannah Dole. Althea did not allude to their
presence at first, and mistaking tolerance for sanction her helpmate
gave his repressed impulses freer scope and proceeded to drag out
his entire array of agricultural paraphernalia. He splashed Bordeaux
and Pyrox about the shed until its floor was blue; he brewed bottle
after bottle of evil brown, yellow, or black liquids and whistled
with complete contentment as he stirred the deadly mixtures, thinking
all the while what a fortunate marital choice he had made and what a
blessing wedlock was under conditions such as these. Had a woman been
created purposely for him she could not have been a more perfect wife.

Occasional clouds, to be sure, blurred his sunshine. There was no
denying Lemuel Gill was sensitive, and Althea--well, perhaps all
women were jealous. Be that as it may, jars did occur and moments of
tension when he was compelled to flit solicitously between the opposing
factions, soothing Lemmy and comforting Althea. Gradually he realized
that this rôle of peacemaker was to be a more or less permanent one.
It was a taxing post, the office of interpreter between the two
individuals who loved him best; but since the friction rose because of
him, he granted he was preeminently the one to bear its annoyances.
Moreover, the strife never expanded into open warfare; it remained
petty and unacknowledged, taking vent in a toss of the head, an upward
tilt of the chin, or a whiffle out the front gate.

In the meantime, notwithstanding these rifts in the general serenity,
the months wore tranquilly along, and by the time winter came the trio
had learned to adapt themselves more amiably to one another’s crooks
and corners. This was indeed fortunate, for as the Holmeses and Lemuel
Gill were the sole residents of the bluff where their houses stood,
they had few outside resources and were continually thrown upon each
other’s society.

Asaph had never found cold weather irksome. Incontestably gales did
howl round his cottage, and a northeaster with the ocean lashed into
fury and sending the spray high in air was a sight not to be lightly
contemplated. Nevertheless, there was grandeur and exhilaration in the
spectacle as well as awe and terror. Besides, the sea was not always in
cruel humor. Often it was merely sullen, its leaden expanse flooding
out to meet a lowering sky. Or the sun shone on it from a cloudless
heaven flashing on waves that curled white and fretted with feathery
beauty the vast sweep of sapphire. Oh, there was many and many a
winter’s day when in spite of snow-buried dunes and tingling fingers it
was good to be alive!

These kaleidoscopic moods of the deep Asaph Holmes knew and loved, and
the season meant to him a warm kitchen; a high-backed rocker before
the fire; chowder steaming on the stove; and a well-thumbed volume of
Webster or one of his precious seed annuals before him. At such moments
Paradise had seemed very near, and now, with Althea and her knitting
added to the picture, it seemed nearer than ever.

Each morning Lemuel Gill dropped in to bring the mail and retail
the village gossip, and while the men talked, smoked, and built air
castles around their summer gardens, Althea baked, cleaned, and mended.
Sometimes she would join them; but more frequently she seized the
opportunity to steal off by herself and pursue interests of her own.

She always returned, however, in time to press Lemmy to remain to
dinner, which he usually did after having protested there were a
hundred reasons why he must immediately return to his shanty.

Thus the winter passed, and with spring all unforeseen came the
earthquake that turned peace into chaos and the grey cottage on the
Belleport sands into a maelstrom of activity.

Alas for Asaph! Alas, too, for Lemuel Gill!

Out of a sky placid as a noonday in June fell the bolt that left the
former man dazed and breathless and the latter murmuring to himself:

“Certainly marriage does lead folks into unexpected byways!”




                               CHAPTER V


Of course it was all Althea. But for her it would never have happened.
One must, however, be just, and taking the bitter with the sweet
concede that had Asaph Holmes never ventured upon matrimonial seas he
would have missed immeasurable depths of happiness. Indeed, he himself
granted that after having once been blessed with such a wife he looked
back on the empty years that preceded his marriage and marvelled how he
had even contrived to get on without this peerless woman.

It was not yet a year since the wedding, and in that brief interval
Althea had become a prop he could not well have lived without. How
capable she was! What a caretaker!

Before her advent he had often been wont, when engrossed in
horticultural pursuits or the allurements of a Websterian oration, to
become oblivious to the milk bottles, the ice card, or the pan beneath
the refrigerator. Now these nagging duties along with a score of others
like them Althea had taken into her keeping. She never suffered lapses
of memory; never even tied strings round her finger to help her to
remember details. Responsibility came so easily to her one felt she
could carry in her head ten times the number of things she did, and
still not be conscious of having anything on her mind.

Care, on the other hand, nettled her husband. When in addition to
weeding and transplanting he had the milk bottles, the ice card and
the refrigerator to remember, he veered as close to irritation as his
phlegmatic temperament ever approached. This Althea speedily sensed,
and after her arrival it took her not more than twenty-four hours to
shift from his shoulders to her own all the harassing routine of the
household.

She did not, however, make the transfer to the blowing of trumpets.
That was the delightful part of it. So quietly was the exchange
accomplished that Asaph could not have told the moment when the
burden slipped from him. All he was conscious of was his wife’s voice
announcing with a finality not to be questioned:

“I will attend to the ice-chest and the other things in future, dear.”

And yet for all her amazing executive ability Althea was very modest.
She did not perch herself on a pedestal and from its elevation look
down with superiority on her less capable helpmate. In fact it is
doubtful whether the idea that she was superior ever occurred to her.
She was a proud woman, to whom the bare notion of being linked with
an inferior husband would have been unendurable. No, she certainly did
not hold Asaph to be lower down the evolutionary ladder than herself.
Instead, she evidently considered he maintained the intellectual
balance of their union by making up in information with regard to
Saturn’s rings, the campaigns of Napoleon, and Webster’s reply to Haine
what he lacked in knowledge concerning the catch on the back door or
the leak in the shed roof. She was immensely proud of his learning. Not
every woman in Belleport was married to a man who could tell offhand
the name of the hero who first glimpsed the Pacific. To be sure, Balboa
and his discoveries offered no remedy for the door that continually
blew open, nor were they of assistance in tarring over the shed roof.
Nevertheless as a background they lent dignity to these commonplace
phenomena.

When, therefore, such a pillar as Althea casually declared on an
afternoon in late May: “I’ve had a letter from Sister Sarah, Asaph,
an’ she sounds to be in such a sea of trouble that I’ve decided to go
up to Abington an’ straighten her out,” what wonder the blow was more
overwhelming than the fall of Sebastopol or the destruction of the
Spanish Armada?

Asaph cringed before it in consternation.

Not that Abington was far away. In actual miles it was no great
distance off. But it might as well have been at the other end of the
world if Althea were to betake herself hither. As Mercutio remarked of
his death wound, _it would serve_.

Deep in his heart Asaph cursed Sarah Tyler. She was constantly
foundering into calamities that all but submerged her, and then
appealing to Althea to rescue her from them. He did not for the moment
appreciate that he himself committed dozens of similar offenses, and
if he had he would doubtless have offered the excuse that a husband’s
privileges were very different from those of a sister. If he chose to
amble into seas of tribulation and then shout to Althea for help he had
a perfect right to do so; but Sarah Tyler should keep her troubles to
herself.

Possibly had the hapless Sarah been born with a relative less capable
she would have pursued this very policy; but to be linked with Althea
by ties of blood and aware of her ability was fatal. Why endure the
slings and arrows of outrageous fortune when succor so potential was
within reach? In every crisis of her life Althea had been her guiding
star. Why shift pilots at this late hour? Therefore, if the children
had the mumps (and they had a faculty for catching everything within
catching distance); if Jabez was out of work; if her taffeta silk had
to be made over, Sarah sat down and graphically described on paper the
nature of her dilemma; then having gummed her trials up in a pale blue
envelope and hurried them into the mail box she sat serenely down to
await the magic solution which experience had taught her would surely
follow.

Asaph had come to dread the appearance of those blue envelopes. Had he
dared, he would have burned them unopened as fast as they arrived. Not
possessing this measure of courage he habitually delivered them to his
wife with the edged interrogation:

“Well, what’s up with the Tylers now?”

For it was safe to assume something was up. When affairs went
prosperously Sarah never wrote at all.

This time a heavier thunderbolt than usual assailed her. Teddie had
had a bad fall and his mother must take him to Boston for an X-ray
examination. Could Althea come in the meantime and keep house for the
family? There was no one else she dared leave the children with. Surely
in such an emergency she could be spared, especially as she would not
be long away.

Asaph grunted ungraciously. How ready some people were to settle
everybody else’s affairs for them! Nevertheless he was a tender-hearted
man and of all the Tyler brood Teddie was his favorite. The present
catastrophe certainly justified Althea’s being summoned, and under
ordinary conditions he would have urged her to go and do what she
could. But just now the conditions were not ordinary. Althea herself
must realize that. Was it not she who was responsible for them?

Vividly Asaph called to mind the fatal evening when the adventure of
the Green Dolphin had first been presented to him. He and his wife had
been sitting together in the March twilight, he absorbed in the Bunker
Hill oration and she silent over her knitting. The click of her needles
and the faraway sobbing of the surf were the only sounds in the room,
and he had thought how delightful the stillness was. Often through
the winter they had sat thus, and his serenity had been so profound
it had not occurred to him that Althea was not finding their wordless
companionship as satisfying as did he.

Then suddenly, without warning of any sort, she had burst out:

“I wish to goodness, Asaph, this house stood on the main road!”

Startled not alone by the words, but by an unusual quality in her
voice, her husband crashed down from the heights amid which he was
soaring.

“W--hat?” stammered he.

“I say,” repeated Althea, “that I wish to mercy we lived on the main
road; then there’d be some passin’.”

“It wouldn’t be so quiet,” objected the man uncomprehendingly.

“I don’t want it so quiet,” was the sharp answer. “It’s all very well
for you to have it still, readin’ as you do day in an’ day out. But I’d
like somethin’ goin on--like to see folks an’ talk to ’em.”

Aghast, Asaph stared.

“Why, Althea, I never dreamed but you were contented enough.”

“I am contented,” returned his wife. “Nevertheless, that doesn’t
prevent me from wantin’ to get a look at my kind once in a while, does
it? A woman enjoys a bit of gossip an’ an occasional peep at what the
rest of the world is doin’.”

“My soul an’ body!” was all her spouse contrived to ejaculate.

“It ain’t no crime as I see,” went on Althea, gaining eloquence now
that the subject was fairly launched. “We ain’t all made alike. You
could sit in one spot an’ read that talk of Daniel Webster’s till
the chair dropped to pieces under you; but I’m different. I like
sociability, meetin’ people an’ hearin’ what they have to say. I can
put up with a certain amount of quiet; but when it nears spring I begin
to long for some sound besides the boomin’ of the sea.”

“My soul!” reiterated Asaph under his breath.

“Now if we were on the main road there’d be folks goin’ by from April
till October--Enoch Morton in his fish cart, the butcher, an’ Ephraim
Wise with the mail.”

“Humph!”

“They’d be better’n nothin’,” asserted Althea, instantly on the
defensive. “Besides, there’d be the summer people--streams of ’em in
their automobiles.”

“Precious little good they’d do you, shootin’ by as if the devil was at
their heels,” sniffed the man with sarcasm.

“They’d do me good if I was on the main road,” was the significant
response.

“I don’t see how.”

“I’d open a tea-room. Other women do it an’ make money hand over fist.”

“But you ain’t in want of money, are you?” inquired her husband,
concern evident in his face. “I thought--”

“No, Asaph,” answered Althea more gently. “No, I don’t lack anything.
You’ve been very generous an’ given me whatever I needed ever since we
were married. ’Tain’t that. It’s just that I’d like the fun of havin’
folks comin’ an’ goin’ here same’s they do over at Mattie Bearse’s
Yaller Fish. Why, there’s days when Mattie has much as a dozen or
fifteen people at the house drinkin’ tea an’ laughin’, talkin’, an’
havin’ a good time. It’s most like livin’ in a hotel.”

Without intending to, Asaph shuddered.

“Mattie has opened up every room in the house; an’ she’s usin’ her pink
lustre china as well as her gold banded set. An’ what do you think? The
first day she had the lustre out some lady from the city wanted to buy
it right off the table--offered fifty dollars for it an’ would hardly
take no for an answer. Of course Mattie didn’t sell it. She told me
she was afraid the woman warn’t right in her head to set such a price
on that old stuff. Moreover, Mattie warn’t anxious to part with it,
it havin’ belonged to her Great-aunt Experience Howland. Still, it
was gratifyin’ to have outsiders take a fancy to it. It gave Mattie
somethin’ to talk of for days.”

“An’ you’d like to have a parcel of strangers come here an’ try to buy
the dishes you were eatin’ off of?”

Althea laughed good-humoredly, showing her strong white teeth.

“Yes, I would,” admitted she without a blush. “It would amuse me same’s
readin’ Daniel Webster amuses you. This ain’t the first time I’ve
thought of it. All winter I’ve been kinder drawin’ plans in my head as
to how I could manage. It’s been most entertainin’. While you were busy
with that long history of the Civil War, I’ve been doin’ it.”

Asaph opened his mouth; then uttering only a faint gasp closed it again.

It was incredible that anyone presenting the peaceful appearance Althea
had displayed should in the meantime have been engaged in so monstrous
a mental mutiny. While in imagination he was marching through the South
with Sheridan, he had not thought to question what she was doing. Had
he speculated at all on her pursuits he would have rated her as being
intent on fashioning socks to ward off the winter’s cold. And all the
time her mind had been on teacups, gossips, and silliness! He could
scarcely credit her with such frivolity.

“Yes,” continued his wife, shamelessly, “I planned it all out just how
we could arrange tables on the screened-in porch, the sittin’-room an’
the dinin’ room. There’d be space enough to do things real tasty.”

As with rapidity she sketched her plans Asaph became wordless before
the magnitude of her conception. The screened-in porch--his favorite
refuge on a July day! And the sitting room where he always took his
afternoon nap! Of course the possibility of these quiet corners being
infested by unending tea parties was preposterous, but the thought
nevertheless disquieted him.

Meanwhile, mistaking the trend of his silence Althea hastened on:

“There’s quite a few broken chairs in the shed that you could fix up
an’ paint--old ladder-backed things that came from Provincetown along
with my other stuff. Mattie says folks like ’em an’ they’d save buyin’
more. I’ve figgered that for a hundred dollars, or a hundred an’ fifty
at most, we could get all that would be necessary to make a start.”

Spellbound the man listened.

Why, she actually spoke as if the enterprise were a practical scheme
and as if she meant to drag him into it with her! The absurdity of it!

“You know I’ve never touched a penny of the money that belonged to
Mother,” she went on, “though you’ve urged me times without number to
spend it for somethin’ I’d really take pleasure in doin’. Up to the
minute I’ve never found the thing I wanted to use it for. But now I’ve
decided I’d like to lay out part of it startin’ the Green Dolphin.”

“The--the--what?”

“The Green Dolphin,” repeated Althea, impatient at his stupidity. “A
tea-room has to have a name, you know. They all do. Mattie’s is the
Yaller Fish an’ the one over at Sawyer’s Falls is the Blue Whale.”

“An’ darn silly names they are,” retorted Asaph, his scientific
mind offended by the inaccuracy of the terms and his irritation
accumulating. “There ain’t any such thing as a blue whale.”

“That’s just it!” agreed the undaunted Althea. “Of course there ain’t.
But that’s no hinderance. Folks like queer names. The queerer they are
the better. They attract attention.”

“An’ you think a Green Dolphin would catch people’s eyes?”

“Yes, I do,” nodded his wife with spirit. “The very sound of one would
set me wonderin’; wouldn’t it you? We’d have to do more, though, than
just call the place that. We’d have to have a carved dolphin over the
door an’ mebbe one in the front yard.”

Of what avail were feeble protests before such a perfectly constructed
plot? As each new horror his wife’s fertile brain had conceived passed
before Asaph’s vision the blood froze in his veins. For behind the
fantasy lay the terrifying realization that this embryonic monster,
the Dolphin, would certainly be born. No power could prevent it. It
was already alive, the child of Althea’s imaginings, and her face was
alight with the joy of its coming. To strangle it before its birth
would break her heart.

“I don’t see--” began he helplessly.

“You don’t need to, dear,” came that reassuring voice that up to now
had meant comfort and consolation. “Just leave the whole thing to me.
You needn’t worry about any of it. I’ve thought out every detail an’
will tell you exactly what I want done. All you’ll have to do will be
to do it.”

And that was the way the Green Dolphin came into being!

Opposition was futile. As soon object to the sunrise which despite your
languor steadily crimsons the east; or the setting of the young moon
which for all your amorous pleading drops like a bow of silver into
the blackness of the night. Althea, alert and armed to vanquish every
difficulty, mowed to earth each obstacle as soon as it was presented.
The only mountain Asaph failed to put in her path was his personal
detestation of the whole undertaking; his hatred of tea-rooms in
general and this one in particular; his repugnance at having his peace
and privacy invaded--selfish reasons when his just mind came to analyze
them.

If he preferred solitude what was it after all but a matter of taste?
Althea apparently liked sociability and for months had been deprived of
it. Was it not fair that she should now have her fling?

As inch by inch he surrendered his ground the Green Dolphin took on
bodily form. Tables were purchased, and curbing inward rebellion he
painted them emerald as the caverns of the sea. He repaired decrepit
chairs and tinted them a like hue, after which Althea stencilled
dolphins on their backs. She stopped at nothing. The dolphin pattern
was all cut and ready, and as she flew to fetch it there seeped into
his consciousness the realization that for a long time she must have
been preparing these accessories against the great day when her dream
would be fulfilled. Had he vetoed the project his veto would have been
overruled. The Dolphin was to be and acquiescence to its existence was
merely an empty courtesy.

Hence preparations for the adventure went steadily onward.

“I don’t see how you’re goin’ to get folks to your tea drinkin’,” he
grumbled one day. “We’re so far off the highway nobody’ll know there’s
a tea-shop within miles.”

“Oh, yes, they will,” contradicted Althea cheerfully. “I’ve thought
that all out an’ prepared for it.”

Into the shed she bustled to return a moment later with a good-sized
wooden dolphin set on the top of a bar of steel. As she held the object
up to his astonished gaze she murmured modestly:

“It seemed to me I did a rather neat job.”

Words failed Asaph. Was there any contingency she had not foreseen?

“Say,” interrogated he, when at last he summoned breath to speak, “how
long have you been gettin’ ready for this thing? An’ when under the sun
did you make all this stuff?”

“Oh, off an’ on. When you were readin’ mostly. An’ sometimes when Lemmy
Gill was here.”

The historian cursed Sherman, Sheridan, and Lemuel Gill along with them.

“We can put up this dolphin where the cross roads branch, over toward
Wilton,” explained Althea. “I’ve printed out a notice to go with it,
tellin’ just where our house is situated an’ the hours the tea-room
will be open.”

She heard a faint groan but did not heed it.

“You won’t mind walkin’ over there an’ settin’ the sign in place, will
you?” she coaxed. “It isn’t far.”

The assertion that it was a good mile to the Wilton fork if it was a
step trembled on the victim’s tongue, and but for the grace of God
would have fallen from it. But a power greater than himself helped him
to nod acquiescence.

Althea beamed upon him.

“I knew you’d come to the rescue,” said she. “It’s twice the fun for us
to run the Dolphin together.”

“I ain’t runnin’ much of it,” was the grim retort.

“You’re doin’ your full part,” comforted his spouse, mistaking irony
for an apology. “Of course a man can’t do so much at a scheme of this
sort as a woman--especially at the outset. Still, it’s nice to have you
sympathetic an’ later on there’ll be more for you to do.”

The sobering effect of the latter clause prevented Asaph from refuting
the commendation contained in the former. He would have proclaimed in
no uncertain terms that when the Dolphin was once launched he intended
to wash his hands of it had not Althea’s eyes shone so brightly.

“I’ve set my heart on openin’ the place the first of June,” went on his
wife. “I reckon we can manage to get things ready by that time.”

Sadly he agreed. Althea’s efficiency! Alas, how he had prided himself
upon it and lived secure within its shadow; and now what a boomerang
it was proving! With all his heart he wished she had been a helpless,
clinging parasite instead of this mountain of ability. However, such
wishes were futile now.

Meanwhile, as the tea-room materialized, wonder, admiration, and awe
hypnotized mutiny into subjection. He finished the chairs, stencilling
the last hateful dolphin upon them, and when his wife declared herself
pushed for time he heard his voice volunteering to hang the chintz
curtains. He had not meant to be beguiled into this concession and was
surprised to discover he had been.

Later in the same somnambulistic mood he found himself at the Wilton
cross roads, the wooden dolphin in one hand and in the other the
invitation to all the world to come and drink tea on his veranda or in
his sitting room. The indignity of it! What peace would there be for
him henceforth, he mused. What possibility of quiet with his books?

If only Althea had not clung so tenaciously to the word we and the
delusion that they were partners in the venture! Or if, even at this
eleventh hour, he had the courage to rise up, repudiate the Dolphin and
its attendant ignominies, and flee to Lemuel Gill’s! Lemmy would grant
him a refuge. Lemmy always granted everybody everything. But alas! this
avenue of escape disappeared like a mirage even as the thought of it
came before his imagination, for to cast off the Dolphin would mean
to cast off Althea as well, and to such an alternative he refused to
subscribe.

Jealously as he resented the fact that her fate and that of the hated
cetacean were irrevocably intertwined, there was no denying it. He
loathed the very thought of the monster. Moreover, it really wasn’t a
dolphin at all. Althea’s zoölogical knowledge had its limitations, and
so, too, had her artistic prowess. What she had actually created was a
mongrel habitant of the deep, a fictitious combination of sea-serpent
and whale--interesting, perhaps; decorative--but in no way true to life.

Althea had always attacked science from this casual angle. It was
the outstanding flaw in her. Zealously as he had tried to correct it
and mold her mind into grooves of greater technical accuracy, he had
failed. It seemed not to matter to her how far away Mars was, whether
a mastodon was a mammal or an aquatic. She listened, to be sure,
when the matter was discussed, but afterward she either forgot the
information vouchsafed her or garbled it so heedlessly one regretted
having imparted it.

Perhaps no defect a wife could have been born with would have been more
patience-trying to a person of Asaph Holmes’s peculiar bent of mind
than was this vice of Althea’s. Nevertheless, human nature has its
idiosyncrasies, and we are what we are.

Althea had not many corners to be avoided, excused, and made light of.

Certainly loyalty to her own flesh and blood could scarcely be
condemned as a blot on her character. And yet in the present instance
this devotion took on the guise of a flagrant crime. At least the
result of it appeared heinous, for to be left alone with a tea-shop
on one’s hands--a tea-shop to which he had never whole-heartedly
subscribed--was no small calamity to face, and that was the dilemma
that now confronted Asaph Holmes.

“It’s too bad I have to go to Sister Sarah’s just when the Dolphin is
booked to start,” apologized the promoter of the project. “Still, I’ve
no choice in the matter. My relations, of course, come first. I guess
you can manage somehow. It’s early in the season yet an’ most likely
folks won’t have seen the sign.”

“You--you--don’t mean you’re intendin’ to open the shop same’s if you
were at home?” quavered her astounded helpmate.

“What else can we do? The date is all announced.”

“’Tain’t much announced,” was the quick argument. “It’s only posted on
the board at the cross roads an’ I can go over there double quick an’
take it down.”

“But it’s announced in other places besides,” returned Althea bending
intently over her sewing.

“What places?”

“Now, Asaph, what use would it be to start a thing unless folks knew
you’d done it? I stuck some notices in the papers.”

“Papers? The newspapers? Which ones?” demanded the man in a
high-pitched voice.

“Oh, the Wilton _Trumpeter_; the Sawyer’s Falls _Clarion_; the Eastport
_Signal_--quite a few of ’em. I can’t name ’em all now. I can get you
the list.” List! There was a whole list of ’em? Good Lord!




                               CHAPTER VI


Althea’s parting admonition as she drove down the sandy road bound for
Abington was:

“Now, Asaph, you’ll do the best you can with the Dolphin till I get
back, won’t you?”

And then she disappeared behind the curving shore and was lost in the
depths of the plumy-tipped pines crowding one another for a peep at the
highway.

Asaph was still half resentfully pondering her injunction when Lemmy
Gill’s droning whistle reached his ear and his crony was seen turning
in at the gate.

Now for the last two days Lemuel had been occupied carting kelp from
the beach to spread as fertilizer on his lawn, and therefore tidings of
Althea’s proposed visit had escaped him. Hence in high good humor he
hailed Asaph with the jovial salutation:

“Well, at last the great day’s come, Asaph. It’s certainly a prime one
for business, I’ll say that. The Dolphin couldn’t set sail under a
fairer sky. I s’pose Althea’s in the seventh heaven.”

Lemuel knew all about the Green Dolphin, oh, yes, indeed! Had he not
followed its progress step by step? He always knew everything with
which Asaph Holmes was concerned, and Asaph expected he would. But
today, for some reason the Captain’s leisurely attitude toward life and
the inquisitive gleam in his sharp blue eyes irritated his comrade,
who turned away and began bustling about the piazza in the hope of
conveying the impression that he was too busy for gossip.

“Althea’s gone away,” he called over his shoulder with crisp brevity.

“Gone--gone away!”

“Yes. She had to go up to Abington.” He imparted the news in offhand
fashion struggling to make it appear that such visits were every-day
events and that he regarded them as matters of no importance.

But Lemuel Gill was neither to be rebuffed nor deceived.

“Land alive!” ejaculated he, drawing nearer and dropping expectantly
down on the steps. “Must have been somethin’ magnitudinous that would
coax her to Abington today. I s’pose the Tylers are in the fryin’ pan
again. Wouldn’t you know that Sarah’d contrive to get herself into hot
water just when ’twas least convenient? What’s the matter now?”

When Lemuel Gill wished to know a thing he adopted the direct method
of asking; and if this means failed to bring forth the information he
sought, he asked again. He saw no reason why he should not, since for
almost thirty years Asaph’s affairs had been quite as much his property
as his own. Did he not reciprocate the courtesy by recounting to his
colleague all his doings? He had, to be sure, little to tell, for
Lemmy’s horizon was not an extended one. How many eggs his Plymouth
Rocks laid each day; what he had had for supper; the number of buds on
his Regal lilies; the size of the lobsters caught in his traps; these
together with the gossip picked up at the store formed the boundaries
of his world. Nevertheless, had he been blessed with weightier concerns
he would as unreservedly have prattled them into Asaph’s listening ear.

Such being the case, it was beyond his understanding that the advent
of a woman should in any way interfere with the former arrangement. To
condone with his comrade as he habitually had done seemed only to be
expected; and when the misfortune included wife as well as husband,
why, his interest was simply doubled.

Meanwhile, Asaph, the apex of the triangle, found his position a far
less complicated one to maintain. On the one hand was Lemmy, who,
sensitive as a girl, was deeply wounded by even a hint of reticence
on his part; on the other was Althea, reserved to the verge of
secretiveness, in whom the discovery that every thought emanating from
her mind, every observation that crossed her lips, was passed on to
Lemuel Gill, awakened a disconcerting degree of indignation.

“I do wish, Asaph, you hadn’t told Lemuel about my makin’ over my
weddin’ dress, an’ how I painted the furniture in our bedroom. It’ll be
all over town. You tell him everythin’ that goes on in this house, I do
believe.”

Her husband did not refute the charge.

“Lemmy’s interested,” replied he mildly.

“’Tain’t likely he cares hearin’ how I managed to eke out my sleeves,”
retorted Althea sharply.

“Yes, he does.”

“Well, I ain’t goin’ to tell him,” protested his wife with spirit;
“Lemuel Gill’s a perfect sieve; whatever goes in his ears comes
straight out his mouth. He’ll retail every word told him down at the
store before nightfall.”

“I don’t believe so,” came from Asaph.

“Well, whether he does or not I don’t want you should babble to him all
our doin’s. What goes on in this house is no concern of Lemuel Gill’s.”

For an instant the man was silent.

“I’ve always been in the habit of tellin’ Lemmy everythin’,” he said
presently. “Were I to stop doin’ it now ’twould hurt his feelin’s.
Besides, he never does any harm with what he hears.”

“Didn’t he go blabbin’ all over Belleport about the Dolphin before the
paint was dry on the tables?”

“He did kinder spread the news around. But that was only ’cause he was
tryin’ to help. Remember you did worse yourself, Althea--you put all
about the tea-shop in the newspapers.”

“That was different. I was advertisin’.”

“So was Lemmy. There ain’t a better advertiser to be found in town.
Tell him what you want told an’ he’ll strew the tidin’s about like
wildfire.”

“Tell him what you don’t want told an’ he’ll strew ’em just as far.”

“Not always,” corrected Asaph stoutly. “There’s things wild horses
couldn’t drag out of Lemuel. He ain’t, for instance, ever uttered a
word about the dance your Uncle Ben led the family, or how he skipped
to Mexico with the money from the Allentown bank.”

The blood shot scarlet to Althea’s cheeks.

“He knew?” she whispered.

Asaph nodded.

“Some feller who came down here from Boston told him. But Lemmy’s never
mentioned it to me an’ ’twas only by accident I found he’d heard the
story. A corkscrew couldn’t twist it out of him.”

Althea’s expression softened.

“Lemuel Gill may go round boastin’ how smart you were to cut over your
dress so’st ’twould look like new; but you’ll never find him breathin’
to a soul any scandal of Uncle Ben an’ how he ended up.”

The wife turned away. She had fineness enough to appreciate the
distinction contained in Asaph’s defense of his friend. Moreover, she
was born with sufficient worldly wisdom to realize that her family
escutcheon was in Lemmy’s hands to sully or leave spotless as he saw
fit. The result was that henceforth she seldom cautioned her husband as
to what information he should or should not impart to Captain Gill.

Nevertheless, the episode served as a warning, and when Asaph found
himself confronted by opposing loyalties, the devil on the one hand and
the deep sea on the other, he exercised as great a degree of prudence
and restraint as Lemuel Gill would permit him to.

Such a dilemma now faced him.

At the thought of Althea’s desertion Lemmy could scarcely contain his
ire. He stood primed to take up the cudgels in his friend’s defense,
and assert in no uncertain terms that she who had instigated the Green
Dolphin should have remained at home and attended to it. Asaph saw
war in his eye, and admitted that even a less interested person would
doubtless have held the same view. It did seem reasonable.

Evidently Lemuel sensed that right was on his side and had no
intention of surrendering his ground.

“What’s got the Tylers that they must see Althea today?” persisted he,
after he had waited a proper length of time and received no answer to
his first question.

Inwardly Asaph sighed. There was no help for it. Unless Althea was to
be misjudged and berated he must divulge the facts.

“Teddie’s had a fall an’ has to go to the city for an X-ray.”

“Humph! I don’t see what Althea can do about that.”

“Sarah wanted she should come up an’ keep house for the family while
she took the little chap to a Boston hospital.”

“Keep house!” blazed the Captain. “Keep house! An’ in the meantime
what’s to become of her own place an’ this infernal Dolphin? Who’s to
look out for them, I’d like to know? What’s Althea thinkin’ of? She
can’t clear out an’ leave you high an’ dry now.”

“But she has cleared out.”

“She’s gone already?”

Timidly Asaph nodded.

“An’ ain’t comin’ back today?”

“She feared she mightn’t be back for a week. There’s reasons why--”

“My soul! What in mercy does she think is goin’ to become of her
tea-shop in the meantime? Ain’t she advertised it in ’most every
newspaper on Cape Cod? I’ve read the notices--trudged way up to the
village readin’ room a-purpose to see ’em in print:”

  “‘_The Green Dolphin will open June first for tea an’ light
  refreshments. Hours three to six. Come for a quiet hour to the Sign
  of the Dolphin, Shore Road, Belleport._’”

“Quiet hour!” broke in Asaph. “Did she say that? She ain’t givin’ ’em
leave to stay an hour, is she?”

“Oh likely that was just her way of wordin’ it,” consoled Lemuel on
witnessing his companion’s horror. “Most of ’em wouldn’t want to stay
an hour anyway. City folks can’t sit still that long; they have to keep
movin’.”

“But if she’s promised ’em they can stay an hour they’ll have the right
to,” insisted Asaph, his sense of equity to the fore. “’Twouldn’t be
square to shoo ’em out short of their full time. It’ll mean dishin’ ’em
gallons of tea, though.”

“Oh, they won’t be drinkin’ tea all that time,” was Lemmy’s answer.

“But what’ll be the use of their hangin’ round here if they ain’t?”

“They’ll be lookin’ at the view, smellin’ your flowers--”

“She didn’t tell ’em they could do that, did she?” cried the man
indignantly.

“No, not in so many words.”

“Then I sha’n’t let ’em,” snapped out Asaph. “Smellin’ my flowers! I
guess not. I ain’t goin’ to have every Tom, Dick, an’ Harry treadin’ my
garden down an’ mebbe spoilin’ it.”

“I don’t blame you for feelin’ so,” agreed Captain Gill. “If folks was
to go pickin’ them irises of yours now--”

“They ain’t goin’ to pick ’em,” shouted his crony. “Ain’t I sent far
an’ wide to get them plants? There ain’t a garden anywhere round here
that has so many kinds of iris as mine. My iris an’ my hollyhocks can’t
be beat. Roses I ain’t so much on. That feller up to Bridgewater has
me skun to a finish. Still I ain’t so bad on Ramblers; an’ my Silver
Moon will reach the ridgepole this season, see if it don’t. How’s yours
doin’, Lemmy?”

“Growin’ like a queen. Some of the blossoms are a good seven inches
across.”

“Huh!”

“What?”

“I just said nonsense. You can’t stuff me with a yarn like that. No
Silver Moon livin’ ever had a seven-inch blossom.”

“Mine has.”

There was no reply.

“I tell you it has!” blustered Captain Gill in a louder tone.

“There, there, Lemmy--don’t go gettin’ het up. Have it your own way,”
soothed his peaceable host.

“You don’t believe it, though.”

“I didn’t ’xactly say that.”

“But you don’t, do you?”

A menacing silence followed.

“In other words you put me down for a liar. All right, Asaph Holmes. If
that’s your ratin’ of me I may’s well go back where I come from.”

Magnificently the Captain rose and drawing his spare little figure up
to the last quarter inch he strode with dignity toward the gate.

“You might at least have told me your Madonnas had come out,” called he
in an aggrieved tone as he passed into the road.

“I didn’t know they had,” declared Asaph hurrying after him. “I’ve been
so upset about Althea goin’ I forgot to look at ’em.”

“They’re out--every durn one of ’em,” exclaimed Lemmy, forgetting his
anger in the excitement of the moment. “Even the little sickly one that
we thought was goin’ to dry up an’ not blossom at all is bloomin’ like
a star. Did you ever see a prettier sight? How white they look against
the sky! That big one on the second stalk must be full as large as my
Silver Moon rose,” concluded he magnanimously.

“It can’t be,” protested the delighted gardener, who, proud as a father
glimpsing his first son, triumphantly surveyed the flower.

“Yes, it is--every mite. How much should you say it measured across?”
pressed Lemmy.

“I don’t know. Five inches, mebbe.”

“I reckon that after all my rose ain’t bigger’n that,” admitted the
horticulturist. “Sizes are misleadin’.”

“So they are.”

For an interval the two men stood bending over the lilies, drinking in
their perfume. Then as if nothing had occurred Captain Gill wheeled
about and sauntered with his friend back to his place on the steps.

“Say, Asaph, how you goin’ to manage without Althea?” questioned he,
abruptly.

“I don’t know,” confided the proprietor of the Dolphin, ignoring in
his turn the recent unpleasantness. “She was of the opinion that folks
wouldn’t be comin’ for tea much at first. You know it always takes the
public a while to get started on a new idea. In case, though, anyone
should straggle in she baked a lot of cake an’ stuff an’ I’m to give
’em that.”

“Most likely nobody’ll come,” was the comforting retort. “Should they
heave in sight remember you can signal me. I can brew tea an’ coffee
that’s good as anybody’s; an’ I can turn out a rip-snorter of a clam
chowder--if I do say it myself.”

“I’ll back your chowder makin’, Lemmy,” attested his friend. “You have
the world beat on that dish. I’d like some this minute.”

“What do you say we go dig a bucket of clams an’ make one?” suggested
Lemuel, catching up the idea. “’Twould seem like old times. We ain’t
had a chowder together--I don’t know the day. The tide’s goin’ out an’
’twill be low water soon. Let’s make a spree of it. Come on over to my
shack with your pail an’ fork an’ we’ll stew up such a chowder as never
was!”

“Oh, I couldn’t do that, Lemmy,” objected Asaph. “What would become of
the Dolphin?”

“Lock it up.”

“Althea wouldn’t like it.”

“Why not?”

“Somebody might come.”

“Let ’em pound. If you warn’t here you’d be saved that much trouble.”

“They might break in an’ take somethin’.”

“You ain’t carin’ if my things are stole,” responded Lemuel, reproach
in his tone.

“They wouldn’t be. Who’s goin’ to wade waist high through a jungle of
tick grass an’ sand to overhaul a shanty that ain’t ever locked day
or night, an’ that’s been invitin’ thieves to come an’ carry it off
for the last quarter century? But it’s different with the Dolphin.
Everybody knows Althea must have laid in knives, forks, an’ spoons, an’
while I ain’t boastin’ they’re solid silver, still they’re skun over
with it thick enough to attract some mean cuss.”

“So you ain’t goin’ to have the chowder after all.”

“Sure I’m goin’ to have it,” contradicted Asaph, unable to endure the
disappointment in Lemmy’s face. “You didn’t think I intended to give
it up, did you? No, siree! Only we’ll make it here, Lemmy, instead of
over to your place. We’ll dig the clams an’ shuck ’em in our shed. I’ve
pork, crackers, potatoes, and onions in the house, an’ luckily plenty
of milk, too. I’ve got all the fixin’s right in the pantry.”

Lemuel beamed until his beady blue eyes threatened to be swallowed up.

“You know, now I come to think of it, that Silver Moon rose of mine
ain’t a mite more’n four inches across,” announced he irrelevantly.




                              CHAPTER VII


Probably the person who would have been most concerned could she
have known what was happening at home would have been Althea, who
while entertaining for Lemuel Gill a warm esteem was not blind to his
happy-go-lucky standards of living. She was a realist, and to pretend
to one of her unimaginative temperament that Lemmy was not idle,
shiftless and shabby would have been futile. Although an ocean rolled
before his door into which he might have dived for pearls; dropped
nets for food; and plunged for cleanliness and refreshment, he seldom
troubled its waters for any of these services, contenting himself
merely with gazing at its flashing foam.

Day after day and year after year he had looked upon the vast expanse
before him, delighting in its smiles and frowns and failing to
appreciate the material advantages of its proximity. Nevertheless he
must have derived something of value from its presence, or he would not
have remained where its surge and swell all but lapped his doorsill.

Just what the immensity of blue meant to him he could not, perhaps,
have put into words. There were golden June days when a spray of his
Dorothy Perkins, pink with blossoms and swaying against the sweep of
sea and sky, sent a throb of delight pulsing over him; the fairness of
a lily opening its chalice to the sun was lovelier, in his opinion,
when its perfumes mingled with the salty air; and the whisper of the
tide was a song he never tired of hearing.

Lemuel Gill may have been careless and untidy of body, but over his
soul there broke a hundred times a day floods of beauty that kept it
pure and unspotted.

Then there was his code of honor, for casual as he was he had his
own particular credo. He did not hesitate to borrow a clam fork and
forget to return it; or borrow money, either, in the same irresponsible
fashion; and he gossiped like a magpie. But the town agreed he never
passed on a slander or failed a friend.

“Lemmy’s made up of a streak of fat an’ a streak of lean, Althea,”
explained Asaph to his wife; and possibly this characterization of his
crony was as just a summary as any that could be made. At least Althea
accepted Lemuel at this baconian rating.

Yet notwithstanding the admission of the little man into her circle of
intimates, she would not at all have relished the idea of his cavorting
unrestrained about her orderly kitchen and making chowders therein,
and no sooner had the artist begun culinary operations than Asaph,
semi-educated out of his bachelor abandon, experienced a realization of
the fact.

For once launched on a project Lemuel forgot all else; and since in
this case his aim was to open clams, the utensil he used to perform
the office mattered not a whit; neither was it of moment to what
bourne the shells hurtled. He had pounced on Althea’s favorite paring
knife as a desirable weapon, and gone zealously to work, while his
companion trembled to see the slender blade writhe and quiver in his
resolute grasp. The shells he strewed about could be picked up from
the shed, lawn, driveway, and kitchen after Lemuel’s departure, but if
Althea’s treasured knife was injured the damage was not to be so easily
repaired. Nevertheless, he knew Lemmy’s disposition too well to risk
even the most delicate suggestion that the tool he wielded might break.
But he did contrive to frame some fable about the hens’ needing shells
and gather those most distantly lodged into a basket. Then having done
all he deemed prudent, he set about producing the ingredients that were
to go into the kettle.

Lemuel liked an early supper, and by four o’clock the mixture on the
stove was sending heavenward an aroma which the chef who bent over the
kettle affirmed was enough to make the mouths of the four-and-twenty
elders water.

  “_But now th’ month is up, ol’ Turk!_
    (_An’ we says so, an’ we hopes so_)
  _Get up, you swine, an’ look for work!_
    (_Oh, poor--ol’--man!_)”

roared he. “I ain’t thought of that chanty of the _Dead Horse_ for
years. Let’s see! How does it start off?”

It started off in a fashion so different from that either Asaph Holmes
or Captain Gill anticipated that the hair rose erect on their heads.

There was a crunching of wheels on the driveway, the tooting of a horn,
a babel of voices, and a loud rap at the screen door.

“Who’s that?” demanded Lemmy in a tense undertone.

“Hush!”

“Of course they’re at home,” piped a shrill feminine voice. “I can
smell cooking.”

“Clam chowder--or I’ll eat my hat,” a man asserted.

“I guess that’s all you’ll get,” laughed another woman.

“Clam chowder! M--m! I haven’t had a real one in years. I’d pay five
dollars for a plate of it.”

“Nonsense, you’re not so starved as all that, Eric.”

“I am, too. Haven’t you coaxed us past every tea-room on the road,
Mother, promising us a delicious meal at the Green Dolphin? There was a
fish of some fantastic color back there on the border of the town that
we might have gone to. But nothing would do but for us to hunt up this
place.”

“You won’t be sorry you waited, son. Someone told me Mrs. Holmes was a
marvellous cook.”

“What good will that do us if we can’t get in?”

“Of course we can get in. Isn’t the shop advertised to open today?”

“You may have been mistaken in the date, my dear,” suggested her
husband.

“It was posted in black and white at the Wilton cross roads; you saw it
yourself.”

Asaph held his breath, but Lemmy Gill, who had raised the cover to give
his _chef d’oeuvre_ a stir, caught the words and dropped the tin with a
crash that reverberated through the silence like a charge of artillery.

“We’re done for now,” whispered Asaph angrily. “Why on earth couldn’t
you have kept still?”

“I was tryin’ to.”

“Well, you didn’t succeed very well. I’ll have to go to the door now.”

“An’ tell ’em Althea’s gone?”

“Of course not--let ’em in for tea.”

“Tea!”

“Ain’t that what they’ve come for?”

“But--but, Asaph--hold on a minute. How can we? There’s two great cars
swarmin’ with folks. I can see ’em through the blind.”

“That can’t be helped now. If you hadn’t welcomed ’em with cymbals--”

“Quit bawlin’ me out. I tell you the confounded cover slipped.”

“Well, it’s of no account now what happened to it. You might as well
have tossed it up to the ceilin’ in joy fur’s the Dolphin’s concerned.
We’ll just have to open the door an’ let the whole crowd in. Althea’d
never get over it to her dyin’ day were I to send ’em off.”

“But the chowder--it’s ’most ready,” wailed Lemuel.

“Shove it back where it won’t burn an’ bear a hand.”

As the reluctant host disappeared through the doorway and Lemmy
grudgingly shifted his masterpiece from its position of honor, he
overheard Asaph saying:

“To be sure, marm. Come right in. Yes, the Dolphin’s open today. Mebbe
you’ll make yourself comfortable at some of the tables on the porch
while I fetch the dishes. The flowers in the garden? Yes, I raise
’em myself. What’s that? Sell you the Madonna lilies? I’m afraid
I couldn’t. No, not for five dollars or ten, either. No, nor the
larkspur. The flowers ain’t for sale. Only the food.”

Even in the distant kitchen Lemuel quailed before the indignant voice.
It did not sound like Asaph’s. He waited anxiously until it again
modulated into his friend’s customary tone:

“What have we got? Well, I ain’t thought that fur. I’ll have to take a
look round. Of course there’s--there’s water, an’ bread, an’--”

“We’re not convicts, Cap’n.”

“I’m not the Cap’n,” explained Asaph, simply. “He’s out in the kitchen
makin’ chowder.”

“Chowder!” A shout went up from the hungry motorists.

“I told you I smelled clam chowder,” put in one of the women
triumphantly.

“It was the crash of the tin cover that convinced us somebody was at
home,” explained a laughing voice.

Lemuel cursed his awkwardness.

“Well, fetch us something,” a male visitor interrupted with impatience.
“We’ve been on the road since morning with only a few sandwiches
’twixt us and starvation. We’ll have your whole menu from beginning to
end--price be damned.”

“Henry!”

“I tell you I’m hollow to my ankles,” her husband declared. “A dozen
muslin sandwiches and an egg don’t go far with an able-bodied man.”

“I’ll fix you up some victuals fast as ever I can,” answered Asaph.
“Just make yourselves at home an’ be patient till I can flax round a
mite.”

Then he bustled back into the kitchen.

“You’ll have to come to the rescue, Lemmy,” whispered he. “I’ve got ten
folks in there who don’t ’pear to have eaten since they turned their
teens. We may’s well make the tea in the wash boiler. Althea’s little
toy teapots ain’t goin’ to make no impression on ’em.”

“What do you want I should do first?”

“Clear the deck of the chowder an’ set some water a-boilin’,” returned
the flustered proprietor of the Dolphin. “My eye, but I’m thankful
you’re at hand! I hardly know where to ketch a-holt. Let me think.
There’s fruit cake somewhere; I remember hearin’ Althea say she’d
baked a batch of it ’cause ’twould keep. An’ there’s molasses cookies,
too. I ain’t sure but there’s pies tucked away under some of the big
yaller bowls; there often is. You might cut up some bread while you’re
waitin’. Give ’em good thick chunks--not those little lace slices you
can see through such as Mattie Bearse deals out. If folks are comin’
here to eat I mean they shall get their money’s worth.” He paused to
wipe the perspiration from his dripping forehead, then continued: “The
tea dishes are in the pantry. You’ll spy ’em on the shelf. They’re
green. Tote ’em out.”

With alacrity Lemuel leaped to obey orders.

“Found the china ware?” called Asaph, when after a reasonable pause his
assistant did not reappear.

“Aye, aye! But the cups ain’t bigger’n thimbles an’ they’re thin as
scallop shells. I’m scat of my life to meddle with ’em. Were I to grip
’em tight enough to hold onto ’em they’d cave in.”

“Don’t smash ’em, Lemmy! Don’t smash ’em, whatever else you do. Althea
bought a pretty close pattern an’ ain’t got one extra piece.”

“I ain’t layin’ to, the Lord knows. But they’re so slippery. Oh,
say, you’ll have to come an’ set me loose from this one. I’ve got my
forefinger through the handle an’ can’t budge it.”

“Hold on an’ don’t pull at it. I’ll be there in a minute.”

With anxious haste Asaph put down the loaf of cake he had just
dislodged from beneath a great earthen bowl and sped to his comrade’s
aid.

But to extract Lemuel’s plump digit from the ring of frail porcelain
through which it had forced itself proved to be no simple task. He was
shackled as firmly to the green cup as if he were a manacled prisoner.

“You can’t pull it off with your hands all buttery,” fretted the
captive. “Go wash ’em so’st they won’t slip.”

“What’d you jam your whole joint through the handle for, anyway?”

“You don’t s’pose I did it a-purpose, do you?” snapped Lemuel. “Them
cups have a glaze on ’em like ice. I slid through the hole unawares.”

“I wish to mercy you could slide out as easily. Well, it’s no use
putterin’ here. Come out to the sink an’ douse your hand in some hot
suds. That’s the only remedy I know,” sighed Asaph impatiently. “All is
if you can’t manage to get the thing off you’ll have to set down an’
wait till we have more time to tackle it.”

“S’pose it won’t come off?”

“Then you’ll have to tag Althea to Abington an’ let her get you free;
or else wear it till she comes home.”

“You don’t mean you’d expect me to wear this trinket hangin’ to me a
week,” fumed Captain Gill, splashing the soapy water wildly about.

“What would you do--smash it? I don’t know what Althea’d say if you
did. She counted noses on them cups. Besides, if you break the cup you
throw out the saucer too.”

“But how can I go round with a sea-green teacup clingin’ to me like a
barnacle?” whined Lemmy.

“Ain’t it stirrin’ at all?”

“No, not a peg. An’ what’s more my finger’s swellin’ up bigger every
minute.”

In spite of his annoyance Asaph smiled.

“You’re weddin’ the Dolphin, Lemmy, like the Doges of Venice used to
wed the Adriatic,” observed he drily. “It beats me how you contrived to
wriggle that ring on in the beginnin’.”

“I told you it slid onto me. I had a notion I’d string a few cups on my
hand an’ bring ’em out that way. I thought ’twould save time.”

“Humph! Well, I reckon the old-fashioned method of carryin’ ’em is good
as any,” was the brutal comment.

A pause followed the words.

“You ain’t goin’ to leave me like this, are you?” Lemuel presently
wailed in a reproachful tone.

“I can’t go botherin’ with you any more just now. I’ve wasted a full
ten minutes as ’tis. ’Fore we know it them folks will be out here
hollerin’ for their tea. You sit down somewhere, Lemmy, out of harm’s
way an’ leave me to feed ’em. Once I’ve filled ’em up I’ll launch in on
you again.”

Reluctantly the abashed victim sank into a chair.

“I ain’t a-goin’ to fuss to cut up the cake or put the cookies on
plates. There ain’t time,” continued Asaph as if thinking aloud. “They
can slice what they want off the loaf an’ help themselves out of the
cookie jar. Let me see--cake, bread, butter--” he checked the articles
off on his fingers. “Seems if some beach plum preserve would go good
along with the rest.”

“The tea ain’t made,” suggested Captain Gill, rising timidly from his
corner.

“Sit--down, Lemmy!” thundered his friend. “I know the tea ain’t brewed.
I’ve got it in mind. The water’s boilin’ an’ I can make it in a jiffy.
What I want to do is to hunt up that special tea Althea ordered from
Boston. She got it a-purpose an’ ’twas supposed to be pretty fine. It’s
only fair to give them folks the best we’ve got. Now where’d she tell
me she was goin’ to stow it?” He scratched his head.

Search, however, as he might, effort failed to reveal this very
necessary commodity. He pulled out the contents of neatly arranged
drawers and boxes, scattering his wife’s possessions recklessly high
and low; he swept bowls and tin cans from the pantry shelves. The
tea was not to be found. And not only was it missing but none of an
inferior quality came to light to take its place. At last having
overturned a pitcher of sour milk into the ice-chest he halted his
frenzied chase.

“I can’t find the durn stuff,” fumed he, wearied out. “An’ now the
ice-chest’s awash with milk.”

“S’pose I was to--”

“Do set down, Lemuel Gill. Ain’t I got trouble enough without you
instigatin’ more? The kindest thing you can do is to keep out of
this clutter. I know you want to help; but how can you when you’re
handcuffed? All is I’ll just have to break the news that there ain’t
no tea. They’ll have to content themselves with water.”

“But Althea advertised tea,” objected Lemuel. “’Twas the chief thing
she promised people. A tea-house without tea is like a weddin’ without
a bride.”

“Don’t I know it? If you can’t offer comfort cheerier than that you
better hold your tongue.”

For an interval nothing was heard in the kitchen but the frantic
bubbling of the kettle.

“You--you--ain’t goin’ to give ’em those kitchen plates to eat off of,
are you?” Lemmy inquired, when he could contain himself no longer.

“Yes, I am,” came curtly from his crony. “I don’t mean to run the risk
of wearin’ rings on my fingers--nor bells on my toes, neither. One of
us has got to remain able-bodied an’ seaworthy an’ that green china’s
wicked slippery. Besides, if I don’t use it none of it will get broke.”

The mention of the offending porcelain brought freshly to Lemuel’s mind
his tribulation.

“My finger’s all purple an’ numb as a dead fish,” lamented he.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t help it,” was the meagre comfort Asaph hurled
over his shoulder as he disappeared on to the veranda. “You’ll have to
grin an’ bear it.”

Left to himself Captain Gill settled gloomily back into his rocker
and with indignation surveyed the fragile barrier that stood betwixt
him and liberty. He revelled in gossip and would dearly have loved to
behold the visitors and mingle in the general hilarity.

“I knew this infernal Dolphin would ketch Asaph,” grumbled he in an
undertone. “From its christenin’ I felt squeamish about it. Dolphins
bring bad luck. I never sighted a school of ’em at sea that the breeze
didn’t die down afterwards. Asaph will be a slave to this critter all
summer--see if he ain’t! Take a dolphin into your home an’ you’ve
annexed a boarder that’ll leave you no peace. What chance is he goin’
to have henceforth for fishin’, clammin’, gardenin’, or readin’? Fur’s
that goes what chance am I goin’ to have myself?”

He was still mulling over these depressing thoughts and ruefully
regarding the calamity into which his initial encounter with the Green
Dolphin had plunged him when the door opened and his pal appeared.

“The feller they call Henry has offered me a five-dollar bill for a
dish of clam chowder,” cried he excitedly. “’Pears he comes from Denver
an’ ain’t visited New England for years. He says he ain’t seen a clam
since he can remember. An’ no sooner did he pipe up for chowder than
all the rest of ’em, findin’ there was no tea, did the same. They’re
ready to pay ’most any price for it.”

“Is there enough?”

“Oh, there’s plenty of it. I poured in a generous lot of milk so’st
we could warm it over. There’s no danger of it fallin’ short. I just
didn’t know how you’d feel about sellin’ it. You see ’twas you made it.”

“I’ll own I didn’t have in mind feedin’ it to a gang of starvin’
motorists,” retorted Lemmy. “Still, I dunno but we may’s well let ’em
have it. You’re in a tight place an’ I ain’t been able to help you
none.”

“You were tryin’ to, anyhow, Lemmy.”

The glance Asaph flashed his friend widened into a smile and with it
the cloud of irritation that hung between them vanished.

“Bail out the chowder, pardner,” ejaculated Captain Gill, instantly in
his normal spirits. “Don’t spare it. I can make another one tomorrow.”

“I reckon you’ll have to,” was the melancholy forecast.

This prediction proved to be only too true a one. Plate after plate
of the steaming viand disappeared through the kitchen door never to
return. Then at last, hot and exhausted, the panting host of the
Dolphin poked his head in at the window.

“They will have you out, Lemmy--there’s no stoppin’ ’em. Mr.
Hollingsworth--that’s Henry, from Denver--says there warn’t ever a
chowder made that could match this one. He insists on meetin’ the cook
who concocted it. An’ there’s a girl here, a Miss Margaret Davidson
(Peggy, they call her), who’s so plumb crazy over the garden she can
scarcely eat. You’ll have to come an’ tell her about the flowers.”

“But--but--how can I?” With a wan expression Lemuel held up his captive
finger.

“That? Pooh, never mind that blasted teacup, Lemmy. Smash it!”
responded Asaph with high-pitched gaiety.




                              CHAPTER VIII


Peggy Davidson, it subsequently proved, had forgotten more about
flowers than both Lemuel Gill and Asaph Holmes put together had ever
known. She had studied landscape architecture and her intelligent
comment soon had the two men enthralled, and as oblivious to the trials
of tea-shops and Green Dolphins as if they never existed.

“Your lilies are lovely,” exclaimed she. “And you’ve placed them
beautifully--just in front of that larkspur and blue veronica.”

“Bless your heart, I didn’t place ’em,” honest Asaph protested. “I only
planted ’em where they’d show up. White things have to have somethin’
behind ’em or they’re lost.”

“That’s placing them.”

“Is it?” queried the man in surprise. “I just call it usin’ common
sense. If you like posies you want they should grow where they’ll look
their best. Clim’in’ roses, now, ain’t ever so satisfyin’, to my way
of thinkin’, as when twinin’ over grey shingles or a cedar post; pink,
white, red, yaller--they all look fine that way.”

“So they do,” agreed Peggy, with a delighted nod. “They’re nice against
the sky, too, and the blue of the water.”

“They are, marm--they are indeed!”

Asaph did not address Miss Davidson by this austere title either
because her age demanded it, or because there was condescension or
superiority in her manner. Rather the word dropped from his lips as
an involuntary tribute of respect and admiration. Perhaps the girl
realized this and was the more pleased. At least she smiled into
his eyes with an unaffected camaraderie that instantly established
a sympathetic bond between them. She was wont to bestow this frank,
radiant smile on the especially favored, and adamantine indeed would
have been the recipient of it had he not experienced a thrill of
pleasure when it was flashed upon him. Such a response now stirred
the blood of both Asaph and Lemmy Gill. There was a wholesome,
appealing quality in the girl that was irresistible. Young as she
was (and she could not have been much over twenty) she already had a
remarkably clear-cut personality. The shifting gravity and laughter
in her grey eyes held one captive, and so did the curving mouth with
its mischievous dimples; even her hair rippled with venturesome
independence, refusing to stay primly in place. As Lemuel Gill remarked
afterward, she was winsome.

“I have a garden of my own in Cambridge,” explained she, “and so I know
what it means to raise flowers like these. I spend hours digging and
weeding. Mother says I drudge like a day laborer and is continually
imploring me to hire a man to do the cultivating. But you know how it
is. You can’t pass your flowers over to strangers to take care of. How
would they know which ones needed coaxing along?”

“That’s right,” chimed in Lemuel Gill. “Why, I’d no more turn my garden
over to hired help than I’d send somebody to represent me at the Day of
Judgment.”

Peggy laughed.

“So you have a garden, too, have you?”

“Oh, Lemmy has a regular Eden down by the shore,” interpolated Asaph.
“He’s carted loam an’ worked no end. If once you clapped eyes on his
place you’d pass mine by without a second glance.”

“Pooh, Asaph, pooh!” blushed Lemuel. “Nonsense!”

“But it’s true,” maintained his friend stoutly. “Why, marm, Lemuel can
hypnotize plants into growin’ big as cabbages. They clean forget when
to stop. I believe,” continued he with impressive solemnity, “that was
he to put ’em in the ground roots uppermost they’d grow for him.”

“I’d love to see your flowers, Captain Gill.”

“I’d be proud as ’lection to show ’em to you. Mebbe you’d like to step
over now an’ take a look at ’em. ’Tain’t far--just down that little
lane toward the shore.”

“I’m afraid I can’t,” answered the girl with genuine regret. “You see,
I’m with the Hollingsworths and must not delay them.”

“That’s a pity. If you were only summerin’ somewheres on the Cape you
might come another day an’ see ’em.”

“Oh, I am summering here. I’m close by. Mother and I are staying at the
Belleport Inn, your village hotel.”

“Don’t call it my hotel,” objected Captain Gill. “I ain’t runnin’ no
boardin’ house--no, nor tea-shop neither,” added he, a mutinous gleam
in his eye.

“You can’t, however, deny having some connection with one,” retorted
Peggy, dimpling, “for I spy its trade-mark right on you.”

Lemuel glanced down and for the first time realized that from the
finger with which he was gesticulating dangled the green teacup.

“Haw, haw!” roared Asaph. “Haw, haw, haw! That’s a good one, Lemmy!
Trade-mark indeed! My soul! I’d forgotten you were still in the stocks.
Why didn’t you bust your fetters? I gave you leave.”

“I know you did. But when it come to actually doin’ it I hadn’t the
heart. I knew Althea’d feel bad to get home an’ find her china broken.
Besides, I tore outdoors in such a hurry I didn’t wait for nothin’; an’
once out here, with the talk of gardens an’ all, the thought of the
pesky cup went clean out of my head.”

“Why do you keep it on there?” questioned the mystified Miss Davidson.

“’Cause he can’t get it off, marm. When the crowd of you hove into
sight he was that flustered he rammed his finger through that handle
like you’d run a sword through something ’way up to the hilt. He could
never do the trick again, I’ll wager. How he managed it this time beats
me. We’ve tried an’ tried to wriggle his joint back through the hole
again but it’s no use.”

“Can’t you start it with warm suds?” asked Peggy with incredulity.

“We’ve experimented with soap an’ water but it don’t do nothin’,” Lemmy
returned with a wry smile. “I reckon the damn thing is on there for
life.”

“Pledged to the Dolphin ’til death do you part, ain’t you, Lemmy?”
taunted Asaph.

“You bet I ain’t,” shot out Captain Gill.

“Maybe I could get it off,” ventured Peggy.

“Oh, leave it on him, marm,” drawled Asaph. “He may find a teacup
handy; or p’raps he can make his fortune by goin’ in a show.”

“It would serve you right, Asaph Holmes, if I never helped bail you out
of your troubles again,” exploded Lemuel, stung to the quick by his
comrade’s jests.

Suavely Peggy stepped between the two men.

“Certainly,” declared she, “no person who can make such wonderful
clam chowder should be on the disabled list. Suppose we come into the
kitchen and see if we can’t release him.”

“A capital idea,” Asaph rejoined with good humor. “The two of us
together ought to be able to put him out of his misery.”

Even Lemuel, ruffled as he was, smiled as he followed them indoors.

“My scheme is to oil him up good an’ slippery with kerosene an’ then
slide the thing off him,” announced Asaph. “What do you think of the
notion, marm?”

“We can try it and see how it works. But there--how silly of us to
blunder round when young Doctor Hollingsworth, who’s a surgeon, is
right here and will know exactly what to do.” She sped to the door.
“Eric!”

“Now ain’t that lucky, Lemmy? There’s a live surgeon right here on the
premises an’ he can operate on you. Will he need ether, Miss, or will
it be painless?”

“Oh, do shut up, Asaph,” pleaded Lemmy.

“Don’t you s’pose I feel a big enough fool as ’tis without you jokin’
an’ jibin’ at me?”

But for once his colleague was deaf to his appeal.

“Won’t this be a yarn to tell Althea when she gets back?” he went on.
“She’ll laugh her head off to hear the mess her Dolphin got you into,
Lemmy.”

“Oh--h! Then the tea-room isn’t your own venture,” said Peggy, quickly
glancing up.

“Did you think it was?” grinned Asaph. “Do I look like I could run a
tea-shop?”

“Well--” she hesitated.

“No, I ain’t so stuck on teacups as my friend Captain Gill is.” He
nudged Lemuel in the ribs. “’Twas my wife started the Dolphin. She was
kinder lonesome an’ wanted company.”

“But where is she?”

“Gone to Abington to haul her sister out of an unlooked-for dilemma.
’Twas a pity, too, she had to go just now for she’s been weeks gettin’
this place ready for the openin’.”

“And you?”

“Well, tea-shops ain’t in my line,” was the simple answer. “Still, I
promised her I’d do the best I could till she got back. To be honest
I warn’t bankin’ on much trade. When you folks hove in sight my knees
most crumpled up under me.”

A peal of musical laughter came from Peggy.

“I don’t wonder,” she answered, instantly sympathetic. “And then you
couldn’t find the tea! Oh, it was a shame! And now we’ve eaten up all
the chowder you had made for your supper.”

“I ain’t doin’ no kickin’,” smiled Asaph.

“But I am. I think we’ve been horrid. Oh, here comes the doctor. What
on earth have you been doing, Eric?”

“I went out to the car to rummage for my instruments--gauze an’ stuff.
What’s the matter?”

“Cap’n Gill’s kinder laid up,” explained Asaph. “Had he got the noose
round his neck he has round his finger he’d be a dead man by now.”

“Don’t laugh at him any more,” implored Peggy, who saw rage again
gleaming in Lemuel’s eye.

But mirth already convulsed young Hollingsworth.

“You don’t think there’s danger of this provin’ fatal, do you, Doctor?”
Asaph inquired. “I’m afraid Lemmy ain’t drawed up his will.”

“If I had an’ had left you anythin’ in it I’d revoke it,” snapped the
little man.

Professional skill speedily proved its ascendency over amateur methods
and it did not take long for the surgeon to remove the Dolphin’s
insignia from the luckless Captain. And no sooner was complete release
effected than Hollingsworth Senior called from the lawn:

“All aboard, youngsters! Come, Eric, and start your engine. Come,
Peggy! Now, how much do we owe you, Mr. Holmes?”

“Eh?” repeated Asaph. “Oh, the food, you mean? I don’t see as you owe
me anything. You had no tea an’ that was what we contracted to give
you.”

“But we had something better--the chowder.”

“That? I’d be a nice cuss to charge you for chowder me an’ Lemmy were
goin’ to have anyway. The clams didn’t cost us a cent; an’ fur’s the
potatoes an’ onions go I raised ’em myself.”

“But you had the trouble of doing it,” laughed the stranger.
“Furthermore, the chowder was to have been your supper and we’ve
devoured every smitch of it.”

“’Tain’t all gone,” was the prompt protest. “There’s dredgin’s in the
bottom of the kettle yet.”

“You’ve forgotten the cake, cookies, and preserves.”

“Now, see here,” interrupted Miss Davidson, sweeping them aside with
a pretty gesture of authority, “I’m going to make out this bill. I go
round to tea-rooms much oftener than you men do and therefore know
more about them. Will you trust me to square the account for you, Mr.
Holmes?”

“I’d trust you to do anything on earth,” was the fervent response. “But
don’t you see it ain’t money I’m after? We’ve had the pleasantest kind
of an afternoon talkin’ gardens an’ operatin’ on Lemmy. Let’s call it
quits.”

“You shall do nothing of the sort,” Peggy asserted. “What would
Al--your wife say to such an arrangement?”

“Oh, Althea ain’t in it for money; she said so at the outset.”

“That’s fortunate, if you are to have the handling of the finances,”
chuckled the Westerner.

“Well, Peggy, you and I will just have to settle the charges ourselves.
I can see that. Good-bye, Mr. Holmes, and we thank you for your
hospitality. Some day you’ll see us driving back for another chowder.
Come, Peggy!”

Amid hurried adieux the visitors rolled away, the two men silently
watching them out of sight.

Then as if reflecting aloud, Asaph murmured:

“Mebbe, after all, it’s goin’ to be as Althea said.”

“What is?”

“The Dolphin. P’raps it will kinder shake us up an’ give us somethin’
to think of. Spite of the mess the kitchen’s in an’ the bother ’twill
be to clean it up, the afternoon’s been worth it.”

“Worth it! I should say it had!” announced Lemmy, holding before his
companion’s gaze a crisp ten-dollar bill.

Dully Asaph stared at it.

“Where’d you find that, Lemmy?” interrogated he.

“They left it under a stone on the gate-post.”

“My soul an’ body! Why, they must ’a’ made a mistake. ’Tain’t right.
The very notion of anybody payin’ ten dollars for that chowder, cake,
an’ stuff. It’s ridiculous. Take it, Lemmy. It’s yours. ’Twas you made
the chowder an’ you who got disabled in the Dolphin cause. You can
consider it a sort of veteran’s pension.”

But Lemuel shook his head.

“When you see me takin’ money from this Green Dolphin, Asaph Holmes,
you’ll see me nearer poverty than I am now,” returned he with dignity.
“Why, ’twas worth every cent of that greenback to meet that girl.”

“So ’twas, Lemmy--so ’twas!” agreed the other man heartily.




                               CHAPTER IX


“Say, Lemmy, do you know I’ve been mullin’ this Dolphin business over
in my mind since sunrise,” announced his friend after the two had
exchanged greetings the next morning. “I woke up an’ couldn’t get to
sleep again for thinkin’ of it. I’m beginnin’ to feel panicky. I don’t
for the life of me see how we’re goin’ to swing the thing till Althea
gets home. We squeaked through alive yesterday, to be sure, but that
was chiefly ’cause the folks was reasonable; but s’pose today a load of
those nose-in-the-air city boarders should loom up in the offin’? We
couldn’t hope to fool ’em with the chowder game. To begin with it’s et
up; an’ if ’twarn’t they mightn’t hanker for it. To advertise tea an’
hand out chowder instead is much like givin’ a man a pair of overalls
when what he wants is a collar. It makes the Dolphin sail under false
colors.”

“Humph! You made ten dollars yesterday, didn’t you?” grunted Lemuel
comfortably. “If you can contrive to mint money at that rate what do
you care what colors the Dolphin sails under? They could be Zulu well’s
Irish fur’s I was concerned.”

“Irish?”

“It’s a green Dolphin, ain’t it?”

“That’s got nothin’ to do with its nationality,” objected the literal
Asaph.

“It ain’t?” scoffed Lemuel. “Did you ever see anything green sailin’
under another flag?”

“Quit your nonsense, Lemmy,” broke in his comrade impatiently. “I ain’t
in no mood for it. What I’m tryin’ to tell you is that I mean to set
sail today on a different tack. I’m goin’ to be prepared to ration
folks properly on bread an’ tea.”

“You ain’t layin’ for another crowd this afternoon!”

“I ain’t a-goin’ to be caught nappin’ like I was yesterday,” was the
grim retort. “Already I’ve got tables out on the porch spread with the
green china. No automobiles are comin’ tootin’ into the driveway this
afternoon an’ have me rushin’ hither an’ yon till I don’t know which
way my head’s aimin’.”

“’Tain’t likely anybody’ll come.”

“That’s their hunt. I shall have the kettle bilin’ an’ my part done.”

“You’ll have to tote out somethin’ for ’em besides tea, an’ where are
you goin’ to lay hands on it? As I remember it there warn’t no twelve
baskets full of fragments gathered up after last night’s spree.”

“Somethin’ was salvaged from the wreck. Miss Davidson told me, though,
I made a mistake to give em’ the cake an’ let ’em hack what they
pleased off the loaf. She said I should ’a’ sliced it, allowin’ half a
slab to each person.”

“It certainly would ’a’ gone farther.”

“But it’s such a durn stingy way to do. Besides, s’pose they were
minded to have more?”

“That’s what these folks were, I guess,” grinned Lemuel drily.

“Well, I’m thankful they liked what we gave ’em well enough to want a
second helpin’. ’Twill please Althea. She’s mighty proud of her cake
makin’.”

Captain Gill did not reply immediately. To judge from the frown
puckering his brows the conversation was not taking the turn he had
anticipated.

“I kinder hoped,” ventured he at last, “you’d got your fill of tea
parties an’ would be ready to shut up shop today. You see I hauled two
of the handsomest lobsters you ever clapped eyes on out of the traps
this mornin’ an’ I was calculatin’ we’d turn the key on the Dolphin, go
over to my house, bile, an’ eat ’em.”

A reckless light blazed up in Asaph’s eyes; then flickered and went out
as he answered dully:

“But I can’t, Lemmy. The tea-shop--”

“Leave it to itself.”

“It wouldn’t do.”

“Shucks! What would be the harm? Drinkin’ tea ain’t a matter of life
an’ death, is it? ’Twouldn’t hurt those city swells to go without tea
one afternoon, I reckon. Like as not it keeps ’em awake, anyhow,” urged
the tempter.

“But Althea--”

“Huh! Don’t you s’pose she’d a sight rather have her Dolphin quit
swimmin’ altogether than waller amid the high seas it foundered through
yesterday?”

“I--I dunno.”

“Well, I bet you dollars to doughnuts she would. What she’s after is to
make a name for herself an’ build up trade. That bedlam of yesterday
ain’t a-goin’ to add to her reputation. She promised folks tea an’ a
quiet hour. What they got was clam chowder an’ a hullabaloo side of
which a typhoon in the Indian Ocean would be peace itself.”

“It was kinder noisy an’ confused; but I warn’t rigged for visitors,”
argued Asaph. “They come on me unawares, you know that. Besides,
we weren’t the ones made all the clatter. They made some racket
themselves.”

“That’s just the point!” cried Captain Gill, triumphantly. “They made
the devil of a noise. They didn’t want a quiet hour. So why give it to
’em?”

“I promised Althea I’d--”

“Oh, Lord! Well, go ahead then. Have it your own way since you’re bound
to. I can eat my lobsters myself,” and turning on his heel Lemuel
sailed out of the yard.

“There!” ejaculated he, gazing after his crony in dismay, “now he’s
miffed an’ gone whifflin’ off in a rage. I wonder if I oughtn’t to run
after him. When he’s mad there’s no knowin’ what he may do. Lemmy!” he
bawled. “Lemmy! Hold on a minute.”

As if expecting an olive branch to be extended, the Captain slackened
his pace.

“Say, Lemmy,” cautioned his anxious comrade, “don’t you go eatin’ both
those lobsters just out of spite. They’ll make you sick.”

“Hope they do,” piped the little man with evident disappointment. “Hope
they kill me.”

For a second Asaph stood watching the departing figure as it moved
unrelentingly down the lane. Then with a sigh he came back into the
kitchen.

“Well, I can’t help it,” he murmured. “If he’s determined to put an end
to himself he’ll have to do it. Tore as I am ’twixt him an’ Althea an’
this blamed Dolphin, it’s a marvel I ain’t dead myself. Most likely,
too, spite of tryin’ to do the right thing my trouble will go for
nothin’ an’ I’ll not only miss the lobsters but find I’ve riled Lemmy
all to no purpose.”

Asaph’s preparations, however, proved not to be futile, for at five
o’clock a motor car containing an old gentleman and his two daughters
stopped before the door and these guests were soon followed by a group
of college girls.

“There, now! Ain’t I thankful I didn’t desert the ship,” soliloquized
the chef. “An’ ain’t I glad I’m armed for ’em?”

The bread was at hand, the butter, too. The cake was sliced and on a
plate; and on the stove steamed the water. Only the tea remained to be
made. It was, to be sure, not the tea; but it was the best to be found.
With tranquillity Asaph set about brewing it. Why, running a tea-shop
was child’s play when one was primed and ready.

Proudly he bore the beverage in and put it down before the primmer
of the two ladies, who placed her hand on the pot, drew it away with
a little scream, and complimented him on the hotness of it. In sheer
delight he lingered awkwardly while she turned it out and passed the
cups around. It steamed up amber from the green china. Then the old
gentleman, after putting in cream and a plentiful supply of sugar,
gulped down a swallow, gasped, and made for the piazza rail, where he
wrathfully dashed what remained in his cup over a syringa bush.

“Pa!” cried his daughters in chorus.

“What in goodness is the matter with him?” inquired Asaph. “Does he
think to still spite the British that he’s heavin’ his tea overboard?”

“You--you--sir!” sputtered the visitor. “Do you call this tea? And do
you consider it the part of a gentleman to play practical jokes on your
patrons?”

“Jokes?” Helplessly the proprietor of the Dolphin wheeled on the lady
who was nearest. “What’s got him?” he whispered.

“I said jokes,” thundered the stranger. “Do you mean to pretend you
were ignorant of the contents of that teapot?”

The consternation suffusing Asaph’s honest countenance bore more
emphatic testimony to his innocence than any argument could have done.

“What is it, Pa?” cried the lady with the cameo brooch of Caesar
Augustus beneath her chin. “What was in the teapot?”

“I don’t know,” responded the old gentleman with dramatic solemnity. “I
don’t know what it is I’ve drunk.”

“It couldn’t have been poison, could it?” demanded the elder daughter,
of Asaph, in a quick undertone.

Her father caught up the word.

“Poison!” repeated he. “Maybe it was. I have no way of knowing. But if
these are my last moments I mean to spend them--”

“Better spend ’em sendin’ for a doctor,” cut in Asaph. “There’s a good
one over to the Inn who can be fetched in a jiffy. Meantime I’d advise
you not to fly all to pieces about the stuff you swallered. You can
rest easy ’twon’t hurt you. Althea always keeps everything labelled
an’--”

“Was this labelled?”

“Wal,--no. The dampness had kinder peeled the writin’ off it. ’Twas
just in a tin box I found on the pantry shelf. But I thought much as
could be it was tea. I’d ’a’ staked my oath on it. It looked like it.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” came testily from the victim.

“What could it ’a’ been?”

During the dialogue the lady of the cameo had lifted the cover from the
teapot and now sat sniffing the thin vapor that rose from it.

“I’ve smelled this smell before, Clara,” declared she. “What is it?”

The other lady took a whiff.

“M--m,” she reflected, as she drew in her nostrils. “Yes, Sophie, I
have smelled it too; the odor is perfectly familiar.”

“That doesn’t help anything,” cut in her father. “The point is, have
either of you ever drunk the mixture as I have just done?”

The lady of the pin, who apparently was the more daring of the two,
bent over the untasted liquid in her cup; then with sudden resolution
she raised it to her lips and sipped a little of it.

“Clara!” remonstrated her sister.

“It’s sage--sage tea,” announced she calmly. “I knew I couldn’t be
mistaken. It’s only sage, Pa, and won’t hurt you at all; on the
contrary it may do you good.”

But the old gentleman, instead of rejoicing at this eleventh-hour
deliverance from a premature grave, only waxed more angry than ever. He
apparently did not relish finding himself suddenly transformed from the
hero of a tragedy to the dupe of a comedy.

“I’ll have you prosecuted, sir,” roared he. “I’ll warn all Cape Cod
against you and your Green Dolphin. You’re a swindler, a miserable
swindler. I told you, Sophie, I had no opinion of all this promiscuous
tea drinking. It’s a foolish custom. When I want anything to eat I want
a square meal and not a cup of milk and water.”

“You didn’t get milk and water this time, Pa,” put in Clara demurely.

“I’d have been better off if I had,” snapped her father.

“Say,” drawled a gentle voice from somewhere in the shrubbery, “you
wouldn’t like to forget your troubles in a nice fresh lobster, would
you?”

Beaming up from among the roses stood Lemuel Gill, jauntily dangling
from either hand a great scarlet lobster.

His coming was so unexpected that even Asaph Holmes was startled. As
for the fuming old gentleman, surprise cut short his anger. He gazed
with astonishment down on Lemuel and the mammoth lobsters.

“Say the word,” continued Lemmy, holding one of the shellfish
enticingly aloft in the air, “an’ I’ll open her up for you an’ have her
on the table before you can say Jack Robinson.”

Something in her father’s eye must have warned Sophie of impending
danger, for she ejaculated:

“Now, Pa, you know lobster always disagrees with you.”

“It will give you indigestion and keep you awake all night,” asserted
Clara.

“I think I’ll have the lobster,” announced the old gentleman,
determination crystallized into stubbornness by the opposition of his
daughters.

“Pa!” came in horrified tones from Sophie and Clara.

“That’s the talk,” applauded Lemuel. “What’s the use of livin’ if we
don’t get some pleasure out of it?”

As he hastened away to prepare the feast the four college girls called
after him:

“We couldn’t have the other lobster, could we?”

“Sure you could, ladies!”

Nothing had been farther from Lemmy’s intentions when leaving home than
to part with his trophies. The temper that had so quickly flamed up
had been as quickly extinguished, and as the day wore on he decided to
postpone his treat until evening and share it with Asaph, when both of
them would be at leisure to enjoy it. But happening in and beholding
his colleague in the toils of disaster banished every consideration but
that of rescue from his mind.

“What do I care about lobsters,” sniffed he, with a contemptuous shrug,
when the two men met in the kitchen. “I set no great store by ’em.
Besides, I can fish more out of my traps any time.”

“’Tain’t so easy to waylay fellers like these.”

“They ain’t swimmin’ in all waters, I’ll admit,” confessed the
altruist. “Still, ’tain’t probable I’ve cleared the sea of ’em. They
must have sisters, cousins, or aunts. Anyhow, somethin’ had to be done
with that cantankerous old codger; he was just in the mood to go out
an’ run down the Dolphin if he warn’t muzzled, an’ we couldn’t let that
happen. We had to square things with him, live or die.”

“I had to--you didn’t.”

“It’s all the same,” returned Lemmy.

“Lemuel, you’re the best friend I’ve got on this earth,” Asaph burst
out, a wave of emotion sweeping him out of his habitual reserve.

“Pooh, Asaph. Don’t go gettin’ theatrical. Them lobsters are yours as
much as mine. I was bringin’ ’em over to you, anyway.”

Thus ended, or appeared to end, the second day of the Dolphin’s career,
but the effect of it was far reaching, for Asaph Holmes, intimidated
by his initial failures, could no longer be prevailed upon to pursue
conventional tea-shop methods and serve tea.

“I’ve had bad luck with drinks,” he explained, a remnant of old
sea-faring superstition cropping up in him. “Twice now tea has proved
my undoin’. The third time I’d likely poison somebody outright an’
later swing for it. No, siree, Lemmy! Nobody’s goin’ to coax me into
dishin’ up more tea. We’ll leave that to Althea. I’ll stick to the
things I’m used to.”

Thus it came about that the Green Dolphin was metamorphosed into a
mongrel variety of eating house, where, with Lemuel Gill’s help, Asaph
served chowders, fried clams, clam fritters, and the sea foods with
which he was familiar, and as a result its fame travelled broadcast the
length and breadth of the Cape. Lines of cars, like gigantic serpents,
stretched down the narrow, grassy lane, and every seat at the tables
was filled.

The owner of the place puffed and panted in frenzied attempts to care
for the legion of guests.

“Land alive, Lemmy!” murmured he. “What have we set a-goin’? There’s
more folks crowdin’ in here than we have chairs for. I can’t account
for it no way. There ain’t any tea. I’ve explained that. An’ there
ain’t no lace mats, flowers, or one of the fixin’s Althea maintained
was necessary to draw trade; an’ still the people come.”

“Mebbe it’s the garden,” suggested simple-minded Lemmy Gill.

“Mebbe.”

“Or mebbe the sage tea done the trick.” The Captain darted from his
small, beady eyes a quizzical glance at his friend.

“There, I’m glad you spoke of that tea,” rejoined Asaph. “I’ve been
meanin’ to have a look at the syringa bush. ’Twill be interestin’ to
see what effect a tonic like that has on flowers.”




                               CHAPTER X


On Saturday, to the consternation of the tea-shop managers, a letter
from Althea arrived announcing that owing to a tangle of circumstances
too complex to explain, she should be forced to prolong her absence
from home for an indefinite period; she was both sorry and apologetic
and she offered half a page of regrets. Nevertheless in spite of them
it was evident she had not the least intention of shortening her stay.

“Them Tylers!” wrathfully exploded Captain Gill. “Them damn Tylers! I
wish to mercy Althea had either been born without relations or else
without such a conscience. What does she gain by bendin’ herself
backwards to do her duty? It only gets her an’ the rest of us into
trouble.”

Asaph offered no response. He dared not reply lest in this moment of
weakness and discouragement he endorse Lemuel’s philosophy.

“It will mean mannin’ the boats for another pull, I s’pose,” ventured
he wearily. “Still, I reckon we can do it; eh, pardner?”

“Folks can always do what they have to,” grunted Lemuel. “All the same
I think Althea’d oughter come home. What does she ’magine is happenin’
to her Dolphin?”

“I dunno. She ’pears to have forgotten there is such a critter.”

“Ain’t you written her how business was boomin’?”

“No. To tell the truth I ain’t had time. Furthermore I’ve been
expectin’ every day she’d come walkin’ in. I did send her one postal
but there warn’t room on it to--”

“Don’t you believe if she knew how the shop’s blossomed out she’d--”

“Hurry back?” interrogated Asaph, completing the unfinished sentence.
“No, I don’t. Once she made up her mind her duty was to bail Sarah
out she’d stand by till she was bailed. That’s the way Althea’s made.
Her sense of right an’ wrong is somethin’ prodigious. A letter would
no more move her than a charge of dynamite. She’d just say folks must
do the will of the Lord no matter what fate overtook ’em. Althea’s a
powerful good woman, Lemmy.”

“I know that,” promptly agreed Captain Gill. “If all the world was
as Christian the millennium wouldn’t be long a-comin’. Still in this
case--”

Alas, Abington was too far away to render Lemuel’s ethical opinions
of value. Thus it came about that the two cronies launched forth on a
second week of the Dolphin, and as the days dragged on and the glories
of their success began to be overshadowed by fatigue, Peggy Davidson
suddenly made her appearance.

She knocked timidly at the kitchen door early one warm afternoon.

“May I come in?” she asked.

Asaph, who with gingerly care was bringing the sacred green china
from the pantry, started at the sound of a feminine voice and all but
dropped the plates he was carrying.

Framed in garlands of climbing roses that arched the entrance and with
gown snowy against the blue of the distant sea, the girl presented a
fair and cheering picture.

Lemmy sprang to let her in.

“I haven’t come to interrupt you,” she explained with a smile. “I’ve
come to help.”

“To--to--what?” stammered Asaph.

“To help. Ever since I was here the other day I’ve been wondering how
you were getting along, and today, on hearing in roundabout fashion
that Mrs. Holmes had not yet returned, I decided to run in and offer
my services. Not that you need me. Everyone I meet is singing the
praises of the tea-house. There’s an old gentleman at our hotel who
hasn’t done talking yet of the wonderful lobster he had here last week.
Nevertheless I know it must all mean lots of work, especially when
you’re not accustomed to such duties. So I’ve come to beg a job. I
should have done so before if the Hollingsworths had not kept Mother
and me on the jump every minute until they went away.”

“They’ve gone, have they?” interposed Lemmy Gill. “I’m sorry to hear
that for I liked ’em. I kinder thought from what they said they might
turn up here again.”

“They wanted to. But the days were so full--”

“I know, I know,” nodded the little man. “Sort of a pity, though, this
sightin’ folks you hanker to see more of an’ havin’ ’em swallered up
as if by a fog. Prob’ly we’ll never glimpse ’em again this side of the
grave.”

“Oh, yes, you will. They haven’t all gone,” explained the girl, turning
pink as the rose tucked in her dress. “The young doctor is still here.
He had to remain behind on some business or other.”

A significant “Oh!” escaped Lemuel.

“You will let me help you, won’t you?” pleaded Peggy, hurriedly
changing the subject. “There must be things an extra pair of hands can
do.”

“It’s mighty kind of you to offer,” replied Asaph.

“Offer? But I mean to do it. I came on purpose. See, here is my apron
in testimony,” and she held up a wee muslin affair from which dangled
pertly starched strings.

“But the very notion--” Asaph began.

“Why not? I’m bored to death sitting round that hotel piazza with
nothing to do. It will be quite a lark.”

Resolutely she laid aside her hat and shaking out her bobbed curls she
donned her wisp of an apron.

“I’ll set the tables,” announced she, taking the plates from Asaph’s
hand. “What are you going to have today?”

“That’s what we were just cogitatin’ about,” Lemuel Gill responded.
“We’re kinder on the rocks this afternoon. We’d intended diggin’ clams;
but the tide was wrong. For an hour ’most I’ve been rackin’ my brain
for another inspiration.”

“What is there in the house?” interrogated Peggy, with businesslike
directness.

“Not much of anythin’, I’m afraid. You can come into the pantry an’
take a look around,” was Asaph’s spiritless answer. “There’s more sour
milk than anythin’ else. Seems to be seas of it. I’ve been meanin’
to stop that milkman leavin’ so much but ain’t got round to it.” He
motioned gloomily toward the array of pans and bowls scattered about
the shelves.

“Here’s cheese,” exclaimed Peggy.

“Yes, there’s plenty of that. Sour milk an’ cheese--nothin’ very
appetizin’ in that layout,” commented the disheartened chef. “I can’t
make ’em into nothin’ an’ neither can Lemmy.”

“But I can,” Peggy cried with enthusiasm. “I can make delicious
sour milk gingerbread.” Her eye traversed the cupboard. “We’ll have
sandwiches, iced tea, hot gingerbread and cheese--an excellent menu for
a warm day. Now where is the flour?”

Already her sleeves were rolled up and she was lifting down a huge
earthen bowl.

“You ain’t actually goin’ to cook?” gasped Asaph.

“Yes, I am. Why not? But I must have a good fire. Hadn’t we better put
on a little more wood?”

In a moment she had enlarged the Dolphin staff from two to three
members, and set the men to work with such spirited leadership that
their waning courage revived, and long before the fumes of the bronzing
gingerbread scented the cottage they were once more in high feather and
leaping to do her bidding.

“Was she to suggest puttin’ Pyrox in the tea I believe I’d do it,”
whispered Lemuel Gill in an aside to his confederate. “Ain’t she the
clear-headed little pilot, though? Sure of the channel as if she’d
towed a tea-room along all her days.”

She certainly was. Without hesitation she whisked the revered green
china on to the tables, arranging it daintily with some paper doilies
produced from goodness only knew where; she placed the knives, forks,
and spoons so they lay amicably side by side; then she hunted out
several small glass vases Althea had purchased and stored away.

“Could you trust me to cut a few flowers?” she asked. “I’ll be very
careful and take them where they won’t be missed.”

“You can help yourself to whatever you like,” assented Asaph. “Here’s
my scissors. Snip off anythin’ you take a fancy to.”

Oh, he had indeed been reduced to a state of utter subjection when he
gave such wholesale permission as that!

Peggy did not, however, take advantage of the freedom granted her.
Within a short space of time she returned from the garden bringing only
a few sprays of roses and mignonette, which she put in the centre of
each table. This touch of artistry, however, immediately transformed
the place.

“We might ’a’ done that, Lemmy, if we’d had the brains,” said Asaph.
“Looks pretty, don’t it? I wish Althea could see it.”

With fervor Lemmy nodded. He wished so with all his heart.

As they trooped after Peggy into the kitchen Lemuel stopped to peep out
of the window and presently inquired:

“Ain’t that Doctor Hollingsworth comin’ in the gate?”

Blushing furiously the girl bent over the stove.

“Mercy!” she ejaculated. “What do you suppose he wants here?” Then
taking refuge in the shadow of the oven door she called:

“This is no place for you, Eric. We’re busy.”

“I thought maybe--”

“You’d get more chowder and fruit cake? Well, you won’t. We’re leading
the simple life today and you’ll get nothing but gingerbread.”

“But I like gingerbread,” the unabashed intruder announced.

“Oh, do you?” retorted Miss Peggy, with a toss of her rippling locks.

Eric ventured farther into the kitchen.

“What have you done, Mr. Holmes--sold out your business?” he asked.

“He’s had it took away from him,” chuckled Lemuel Gill.

“I warn’t sorry to surrender it,” explained Asaph with a faint sigh.
“You see a dolphin’s all well enough so long as it keeps mild an’
docile; but when it turns into a whale an’ starts runnin’ away--line,
harpoon an’ all--it has you beat.”

“Fie, Mr. Holmes! You weren’t beaten,” smiled Peggy. “Instead, every
day in every way you were growing better and better.”

Eric Hollingsworth laughed, but Asaph, to whom Coué’s optimistic
philosophy was a sealed book, responded literally:

“If I have it’s chiefly due to Lemmy. The chowder was his, an’ the
lobsters, too.”

“Your clam fritters made a great hit Wednesday, I heard.”

“They didn’t go a-beggin’,” admitted the man modestly. “But we
couldn’t ’a’ remained on such heights as that forever. Our list of
accomplishments was gettin’ played out. Sooner or later there’d ’a’
been a drop to baked beans. Mebbe today, marm, if you hadn’t happened
in.”

With frank admiration he regarded the girl in the microscopic apron.

So did young Hollingsworth.

To judge from his eager glance he would have been quite content to
watch her indefinitely had she not cut short this agreeable pastime by
saying:

“Suppose, Eric, since you are here uninvited, a drone in a hive of
bees, you make yourself useful by hunting round outdoors for some mint.”

“Mint! Shades of Volstead! You’re not going to make a surreptitious
julep?”

“Nothing so good,” laughed Peggy. “Only a fourth cousin to one. I
simply wish to put some mint into the iced tea.”

“How are the mighty fallen!” groaned the doctor.

“Oh, there’s shoals of mint in the garden,” asserted Asaph. “I can get
you all you want. I don’t know, though, as I ever heard of puttin’ it
in tea.”

“After what happened Friday Asaph’s goin’ kinder slow on herbs,” put in
Lemmy Gill.

“An’ is it to be wondered at if I am?” returned his comrade
good-humoredly. “If you’d all but poisoned a man an’ two women you’d
move careful too.”

It was a merry afternoon, a day of friendly jest and nonsense. And when
it proved to be one of the most popular in the tea-shop’s history,
Asaph Holmes’s gratitude knew no bounds.

“My eye, Miss Davidson, you’ve set a pace for us now,” he beamed. “What
with your gingerbread, your mint, an’ your flowers you’ve given us a
pretty high mark to shoot at.”

“Your mint, and your flowers, Mr. Holmes,” corrected Peggy.

“Nonsense! I didn’t know enough to use ’em,” came humbly from the owner
of the grey cottage. “Most likely, too, there’s other blessin’s starin’
me in the face that I’m too stupid to see.”

“One of ’em is lookin’ you between the eyes right now,” said Lemmy
Gill, directing a gallant bow toward Peggy.

“Oh, I ain’t missin’ that one,” smiled Asaph. “I do hope you know,
marm, how grateful Lemmy an’ me are to you.”

“You needn’t be,” answered the girl. “I’ve had all kinds of fun. It’s
always been one of my ambitions to run a tea-room.”

“Queer how the notion gets women,” the man muttered.

“It does, though,” confessed Peggy. “There is fascination in the very
mention of cakes and tea. I shall be back again tomorrow. Oh, yes,
I shall. You cannot rid yourself so easily of me. Haven’t I been
satisfactory?” She dimpled in distracting fashion.

“You’re always satisfactory,” burst out Eric Hollingsworth, impulsively.

“I wasn’t talking to you,” retorted the girl with magnificent hauteur.
“I was addressing Mr. Holmes.”

“Satisfactory ain’t quite the word,” said Asaph slowly. “I met a line
would fit you like a cap in somethin’ I was readin’ lately. I wish I
could think how it went.”

“Somethin’ Daniel Webster wrote, I’ll bet a penny,” interrupted Lemuel
Gill in a proud undertone. “Asaph’s great on books, you know. Before we
launched away on this Dolphin he was always readin’. But he gets little
time for that sort of thing now.”

“I can read this winter,” returned his pal, a hint of wistfulness in
his tone.

“When the Dolphins cease from troublin’ an’ the weary are at rest,”
interpolated the irrepressible Captain.

But Asaph ignored the jest.

“’Tain’t hurt me to rest my eyes, I guess,” said he brightly. “Readin’
is taxin’ business. Besides, I’ve got my flowers. One rose will keep
you goin’ for quite a spell,” he added with a smile.

Apparently roses, combined with Peggy Davidson’s skill, Lemuel’s
constant assistance, and the daily visits of Doctor Hollingsworth
kept Asaph Holmes serene for an entire week. Then one afternoon, all
unheralded, in walked Althea. No, she did not walk in. That had been
her intention; but instead of carrying it out she halted at the gate of
her dwelling and stared incredulously about her.

As far as eye could reach there extended down the lane an array
of automobiles such as, in her limited experience, portended no
function but a funeral. They stood parked along the edge of the
bayberry-bordered meadow; they jostled each other for space beside
the vine-covered wall. She did not remember ever having seen so many
cars together at one time, and wondered what had brought them. Then
presently she observed they stretched away from her own door and a
great fear assailed her. Suppose, during her absence, something had
happened to Asaph, and through a prank of fate she had failed to
receive word of the tragedy? He would have a large funeral, for not
only was he one of the oldest residents of the village, but a deacon
of the church and a trustee of the library as well. The next moment,
however, the absurdity of the idea put her terror to flight. Of course
nobody could proceed with such a function without her. Furthermore, the
gathering had not a funereal atmosphere. Fashionably gowned women with
gay parasols loitered on the lawn or paused on the steps to exchange
laughing gossip. There were men about, too, in sporting togs. The
verandas swarmed with people.

Then it flashed upon her that the moving crowd with its kaleidoscopic
dashes of color was the fulfillment of her dream. It was the Green
Dolphin!

Yes, it was the Dolphin as she had in her maddest moments pictured
it--the Dolphin a-hum with life and joviality!

As she passed in between the little tables and beheld them tempting
with roses and her treasured green china, it seemed as if the vision
could not be real, the beauty of it so far outstripped her ideal. There
were flowers everywhere and masses of bayberry in bowls, in hanging
baskets, and in nice old blue jars. Oh, the place had an air, she
realized that immediately. But how in the world had Asaph managed it?
He had scarcely mentioned the tea-house in the one hurriedly scrawled
postal he had sent her, and from his silence she had gathered that the
enterprise had gone to rack and ruin, and been the more impatient to
get back and grasp the tiller before the chance of salvaging the wreck
had vanished forever.

Could the shop have been going on like this all the while she had been
away? Oh, it was impossible. Asaph and that blundering Lemmy Gill could
never have contrived such a triumph.

For it was a triumph--every step she took convinced her of that. She
had thought Mattie Bearse’s Yaller Fish the pinnacle of elegance. But
her own Green Dolphin--!

Dragging her suitcase after her she went on through the house. Nobody
heeded her coming. It was too busy a spot for one more visitor to be
noticed. The tables were crowded, and as she passed along she glimpsed
her husband and Lemmy Gill moving in and out the room bearing aloft
trays laden with her precious china tea-sets. There was a stranger,
too, hovering about, a handsome young city man in conventional summer
garb, who was collecting money in a smart little wicker basket. She
should never have thought of using a basket; but how nice it was! She
speculated as to who this cashier could be. Apparently he was entirely
at home, for he chatted right and left with the guests and seemed to
be a general favorite with them. For that matter, Asaph and Lemmy were
gossiping and joking with people as if they had met them times without
number, especially a wizened old man in the corner whose daughter was
objecting:

“Now, Pa, I wouldn’t drink a second glass of that iced tea if I were
you. It will surely keep you awake.”

“Didn’t I have two yesterday, Sophie, and sleep like a top afterward?
Keep me awake! I guess not!”

So there had been a yesterday and perhaps a day before! The marvel was,
then, nothing new.

Althea threaded her way on into the kitchen and there on the threshold
stood transfixed, the enigma that had baffled her plain to her quick
understanding.

Amid a methodically arranged collection of tea bags, boiling kettles,
and moistly wrapped sandwiches was a young girl, bewilderingly pretty,
placing frosted cakes on a plate with a deftness that bespoke the
practised hand.

Althea had but to look at her and the mystery was solved.

Asaph had been compelled to summon professional aid! That explained
everything.

It was just as this answer to the conundrum flashed upon her that the
creature in the ridiculous apron turned and confronted her.

“Oh,” cried she, with a smile that fairly dazzled, “are you Mrs.
Holmes?”

“I am,” was the stiff response.

“How splendid to see you home again! I’m Peggy Davidson.”

Althea scanned her critically. She was not of the cheap class of
wage earner, that was evident. Doubtless she was some domestic
science graduate who commanded a fabulous price. Poor Asaph! He was
so impractical. Likely as not he had plunged helplessly in and hired
her without so much as referring to wages. That would be his way. He
wouldn’t have an idea whether her fee was large or small or whether he
was making money or losing it. It was safe to assume he was losing it.
The establishment was without question swamped, this very minute, with
debts. She ought never to have gone away and left such a project in his
hands and in the hands of that scatter-brained Lemuel Gill.

“I don’t believe I shall need you after today,” announced she to the
girl in her loftiest tone. “Now that I’m home I can look after things
myself.”

“Of course you can,” was the cordial reply. “Mr. Holmes will be
thankful enough to have you, too. Does he know you’re here?”

“No. He was busy when I came in.”

“It’s been frightful today,” said the sprite in the wee apron. “We have
been rushed to death. If the popularity of the Dolphin continues we
shall have to be putting tables on the lawn.”

The use of the word we indicated so obvious a participation in the
Dolphin’s affairs and familiarity with its interests that Althea once
more stole a sharp glance at the girl’s face.

She had finished with the cakes now and stood idly fanning herself with
a newspaper, and every time this improvised weapon swayed it set in
motion myriad soft little curls that clustered about her forehead. Oh,
her hair was pretty, very pretty--almost too pretty, thought the elder
woman with resentment.

“How did you leave Teddie?” Peggy suddenly inquired.

So she knew about Teddie, too! Probably Asaph, simple-minded and
confiding, had told her everything. Men were weak as dish-water when a
pretty girl was concerned.

“My nephew is better,” was her chilly response.

“I am glad! Mr. Holmes will be relieved. He has been worried about
the little chap. He is so sympathetic, he can’t bear to have a child
suffer.”

Then, beaming guilelessly at Althea, she added, “What a dear he is!”

At the audacity of the compliment the woman caught her breath. Oh, it
was full time she came home, thought she to herself. Not but that she
trusted Asaph. She would have trusted him to the other end of the world
if he were let alone. But men were human and none of them proof against
the wiles of a fascinating female, especially one that talked of books,
flowers, and favorite nephews.

It should be said to Althea’s credit that so tremendously proud was she
of Asaph, it never occurred to her there was anything incongruous in a
girl, however young, being attracted to her husband. He was one man in
a thousand, and such being the case was it to be expected all the world
but herself would be blind to his exceptional qualities? This minx in
the absurd apron, for example, had evidently already discovered what a
paragon he was.

Nevertheless, commendable as was her taste, some sort of rebuke was
certainly due her, and as Althea stood hesitating whether to put the
upstart in her place or ignore her brazen observation, Asaph himself
came hurrying into the kitchen.

“More cakes, Miss Davidson!” cried he. “They’re disappearin’ like live
bait. Haven’t we had a crowd, though?”

It was then he turned and caught sight of his wife.

“Althea! In all my born days I never was so glad to see a human bein’!
When did you get here?”

“Just now.”

“I didn’t notice you comin’ in.”

“You were too busy.”

Had she cherished a shadow of doubt as to her welcome it was forever
banished by the eagerness with which the great fellow seized her bag
and kissed her. They never had been much given to demonstrative
greetings, and for a person of his New Englandism to so far forget
his reserve as to embrace her in public caused her to flush like a
schoolgirl.

“I see you’ve made Miss Davidson’s acquaintance already,” he continued.
“She’s been my mainstay--she an’ Lemmy. I’d have sunk plumb to the
bottom but for them.”

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t, Mr. Holmes,” Peggy protested. “You and the
Dolphin were getting on perfectly well before I butted in.”

“Butted in!”

“Well, that is what I did, you know. I came over here from the hotel
all uninvited, Mrs. Holmes, just for the lark of it. I’ve always wanted
to try my luck with a tea-room.”

“You could run one to the queen’s taste!” came enthusiastically from
Asaph.

Light was breaking in on Althea’s confused mind.

“Was it you, Miss Davidson, fixed the tables, flowers an’ all?” asked
she.

“I helped. I enjoy doing such things.”

“You do them well.”

Althea might have said more but she was not given to slopping over;
perhaps for that very reason her praise, scantily doled out, carried
the more significance.

“Where’s the cakes you came after?” broke in Lemmy Gill, appearing in
the doorway. “Mr. Haverford an’ his old maid daughters are beat to a
frazzle waitin’ for ’em.”

“My soul! I clean forgot,” gasped the delinquent.

“No matter, Mr. Holmes. The Haverfords will be all the better for
digesting their tea,” laughed Peggy. “Here are the cakes, Captain Gill.
You take them in.”

Lemuel, born with a sweet tooth, looked longingly down on the freshly
filled plate.

“Ain’t they cute!” observed he. “How you ever contrived to frost ’em so
smooth I don’t see. I’ll bet, too, they’re good as they look. I could
swaller the dishful at one gulp.”

“You needn’t do it, though,” ordered Peggy, holding up a warning
finger. “Wait until by and by and you shall have some. I’ve a panful
tucked away on purpose for you.”

“That’s welcome tidin’s. And--my soul an’ body--if here ain’t Althea!
That tidin’s better yet. Oh, if we ain’t prayed night an’ day for your
comin’, Althea.”

“You seem to be makin’ out pretty well without me,” smiled the woman.

“We’re makin’ out,” granted Lemmy, “with the help of Miss Peggy here,
an’ Doctor Hollingsworth; we’re doin’ fine!”

“Doctor Hollingsworth?” repeated Althea, vaguely.

“He’s number four of the crew. Guess you ain’t met him yet.”

“An’ what is he doin’ here?” demanded the still puzzled sponsor of the
Green Dolphin.

Glancing furtively at Peggy, Lemuel cocked his head and with solemnity
winked one of his sharp little eyes.

“We found ’twas safer to keep a physician on the premises,” drawled he.




                               CHAPTER XI


That evening when the grey cottage had resumed its tranquillity; when
the sea flickered silver and a broad moonglade shimmered from the
doorway straight up to heaven, Asaph, seated on the rose-scented piazza
with his wife and Lemuel Gill, told Althea the story of the Dolphin. He
spun the yarn graphically with all a seafarer’s love of the dramatic,
and Althea laughed at its lights and shadows as she had not done in
years. Then, the tale finished, he went indoors and returned carrying a
cracked blue sugar-bowl from whose azure depths resounded the tinkle of
coins.

“Here’s what we’ve made,” announced he. “I’ve been too busy to figure
out what it comes to, but you’ll find it all in here.”

“How much do you reckon ’twill add up?” speculated Lemmy Gill, the
financial angle of the venture for the first time stirring his
interest. “We’d oughter counted it an’ found out. But we were so dead
beat when night come we didn’t care. Had we taken in a million dollars
I wouldn’t ’a’ turned my hand over for it. Still ’twill be amusin’ now
to find out. Let’s give a guess.”

“Twenty-five dollars,” hazarded Asaph.

“Nonsense!” jeered the more worldly-minded Captain. “It’s nearer
seventy-five.”

“Oh, it couldn’t be so much as that, Lemmy,” contradicted Althea.

“Have a look an’ see if ’tain’t,” urged Lemuel.

“Seventy-five dollars is a mint of money, Lemmy. It would never come to
that,” rejoined Asaph. “Tip it out, Althea, an’ give us the total. Then
we’ll know without doin’ more guessin’.”

Obediently his wife tumbled the disputed contents of the sugar-bowl
into her lap and while the men sat by and in antiphonal chorus repeated
the addition after her, she sorted the bills and counted the jingling
silver. Then in awed silence she looked down upon it.

Lemuel’s mad surmise of seventy-five dollars had been modest when
compared with the little fortune her apron contained.

“I don’t see how you contrived it,” murmured she at last. “Are you sure
you didn’t make mistakes in change?”

“Folks didn’t do no kickin’,” replied Lemuel.

“Maybe you haven’t paid for everything, Asaph. Ain’t there a bill at
the store needs settlin’?”

“Nope! I squared everythin’ with spot cash. I was afraid not to, lest
I get in deeper’n I knew. So, you see, what’s here is net profit--all
’cept Lemmy’s share of the plunder.”

“’Cept what?” piped Lemuel.

“’Cept your portion.”

“But I ain’t got no portion,” answered the little man simply.

“’Course you have. The lobsters were yours, warn’t they? An’ a good
part of the fish an’ clams, too. Besides, your services come to
somethin’.”

“Who ever heard of anythin’ so plumb ridic’lous!” guffawed the Captain
scornfully.

“Asaph is right, Lemmy. Part of the money belongs to you,” agreed
Althea.

“Nonsense, marm! Non--sense!”

“But you’ve earned it, an’ neither Asaph nor I will be happy unless you
take what’s yours,” insisted she firmly.

“An’ what would I be doin’ with a sugar-bowl full of money?” blustered
Lemuel derisively. “Buyin’ a diamond ring for myself?”

“What’s the matter with your gettin’ a new suit of clothes?” suggested
Asaph.

“Clothes? I’ve got all the clothes I want to sew buttons on already,”
objected Lemmy. “Had I more they’d keep me patchin’, darnin’ an’
tinkerin’ with ’em all the time an’ leave me not a minute for weedin’
an’ cultivatin’ my garden. No, siree! Folks that want closetfuls of
clothes are welcome to ’em. I wouldn’t be bothered riggin’ myself up
in white pants an’ silk shirts like some of the jackanapes do that
come here tea drinkin’. The more things you get the less peace you
have, in my opinion.”

“You could find a use for the money, I guess,” smiled Althea. “If worse
came to worst, Lemmy, you could lay it out in rose bushes.”

“I--I--s’pose I might do that,” faltered the horticulturist, tempted by
the artful suggestion.

“Of course you could,” went on Althea quickly. “Haven’t you been
wantin’ some white Killarneys for a long time? Now’s your chance to get
’em. ’Tain’t as if the money was a gift. It’s your own earnin’s.”

“You can hand me ten dollars, then--ten dollars--not another cent.
’Twill be like manna fallin’ from heaven it’s so unexpected. In fact,
’bout all the money I’ve ever had has descended upon me without
warnin’. When I’ve gone after it an’ tried to earn it, it’s been
as hard to lay a-holt of as the end of the rainbow. Durin’ my life
I’ll bet I’ve set out to get a job a hundred times--actually gone
nettin’ one--an’ ’twas never any use; but just you let me set down an’
put money as fur from my reckin’ as Mars is an’ ’twill drop like a
meteor at my feet.” Reminiscently he smiled. “I’ve ’bout come to the
conclusion that when you chase a thing too hard an’ vow you’ll have it
whether or no you seldom capture it.”

“An’ yet we’d have nothin’ in this world if we didn’t determine to get
it,” Althea remarked. “The Dolphin, now--hadn’t I aimed for it an’
worked for it I’d ’a’ been without it to this day.”

“I reckon you would,” Lemmy admitted. “Mebbe, though, you’d ’a’ been as
well off.”

Instantly the woman bristled.

“What do you mean?” demanded she. “Ain’t it turned out well? Ain’t
folks come to it?”

“Oh, folks have come right ’nough,” answered the little man. “They’ve
trooped in here like as if their eternal salvation depended on a cup
of tea. I’m afraid you’re goin’ to think so too when once you get the
place into your own hands.”

“Oh, no, I’m not,” was the assured retort. “Crowds of folks ain’t goin’
to bother me. Warn’t it for the sake of seein’ people I opened the
tea-room?”

“If that was your reason, Althea, you’ll have enough of ’em now to
content you,” drawled the Captain. “They’ll drift past you like so many
movin’ pictures--all sorts an’ kinds. There’ll be the woman in the
pink hat who carries away the lump sugar in her handkerchief; an’ the
sharp-nosed old maid from the Inn that drinks her tea so black you feel
guilty lettin’ her have it. Then you’ll see the girl that fixes up her
drink with lemon, cloves, ginger, an’ sugar like she was intendin’ to
make it into sweet pickle. I can’t imagine puttin’ such a mixture into
my tea. I’d as soon think of dishin’ spices into an oyster stew. Still,
if that’s what city folks want, they’re welcome to it.”

“That’s what I say,” rejoined Asaph. “They can doctor their beverage up
with Paris green if they have a mind to. I don’t care.”

“Oh, I do,” promptly averred Althea. “It all interests me--the folks,
what they wear, what they eat, how they eat it--everythin’. I shall
admire to watch ’em.”

“I’m afraid you won’t get much chance to do that, penned up in the
kitchen as you’ll be,” was Lemuel’s disheartening comment. “It’ll take
’bout all your time to dish up the food an’ keep things movin’.”

It was evident from the swift change in Althea’s expression that the
assertion dismayed her. “Didn’t Miss Davidson mingle round with the
people same’s you an’ Asaph?” she questioned. Lemmy shook his head.

“Peggy had her hands full behind the scenes,” was his reply. “She was
either bilin’ water, spreadin’ sandwiches, slicin’ lemon, fillin’
cake plates, makin’ tea, or doin’ somethin’ else. I’d a notion it was
because of her bein’ imprisoned in the kitchen Doctor Hollingsworth
kept goin’ out there for drinks of water. He was continually makin’
journeys to the pump. I’ll bet he swilled down a gallon of water every
afternoon he was here.”

Althea’s laughter rippled out upon the quiet air.

“Well, he can quit his drinkin’ now,” said she.

“What do you mean?” demanded Lemmy, a startled expression dilating his
eyes.

“Why, after this Miss Davidson won’t be a captive in our kitchen. She
won’t have to be. Certainly you an’ Asaph didn’t expect a girl young
an’ pretty as she to keep right on slavin’ here all summer. She’s away
on her vacation. What rest would she get to be cooped up in the house
day after day, washin’ dishes an’ cookin’?”

“I dunno.” The little man was silent. “I hadn’t thought of it that way.
She seemed so sorter contented--” His voice trailed off and died in a
murmur of disappointment.

“We mustn’t forget, Lemmy, Miss Peggy an’ the Doctor have been awful
kind,” interrupted Asaph. “They’ve come to our rescue like Trojans. But
as Althea says, they’re young, an’ ’twouldn’t be right for us to keep
’em from enjoyin’ themselves. They don’t have the ocean to look at all
the year round, same’s we do.”

“But I thought they were enjoyin’ themselves,” lamented the Captain,
with spirits at a low ebb. “It’s goin’ to make the Dolphin awful
different to have ’em gone. They were so pleasant an’ lively! There
won’t be no more jokin’ now, nor frosted cakes, nor--”

“Yes, there will, Lemmy,” cut in Althea briskly. “Can’t I make frosted
cakes well as Miss Davidson? Besides, ’tain’t as if she was goin’ away
for good. She’ll be at the hotel an’ will come droppin’ in here now an’
again of an afternoon. She promised she would. So don’t go mournin’ her
like as if she was dead an’ buried. Most likely when it’s rainy an’ she
can’t go ridin’, sailin’ or walkin’ she’ll come visitin’ us.”

“I shall pray for rain then,” was Lemmy’s instant answer. “I’m goin’ to
raise a petition to heaven right now that it rains forty days an’ forty
nights same’s it did in the time of Noah.”

“Don’t you do no such thing, Lemuel Gill,” cried Asaph. “If you was
to send up a prayer like that what do you s’pose would become of the
garden?”

“Sakes alive! I clean forgot the flowers,” gasped Lemuel. “I reckon
I’ll have to let the weather go its own gait an’ Peggy go hers. Still
that don’t alter the fact we’re goin’ to miss her somethin’ alarmin’.
However, we’ve got Althea back so t’ain’t all loss,” added he more
cheerily. “Now if them Tylers will only keep out of mischief an’ stay
right side up I guess we can manage--Peggy or no Peggy. All the same
you can’t deny girls like her are scarce as hen’s teeth.”

“I reckon that’s what the young Doctor thinks,” returned Althea with a
significant smile.

“Eh?” questioned Asaph.

“I just said I guessed Doctor Hollingsworth was of that opinion.”

“Pooh! Nonsense, Althea. Why, them young folks are only a boy an’
girl--nothin’ but children,” protested her husband.

“The Doctor’s thirty if he’s a day. An’ Miss Davidson--”

“I never thought of such a thing,” said Asaph slowly. “The idea of
there bein’ anythin’ ’twixt ’em never crossed my mind. ’Course there
was the water drinkin’ an’ the pleasant talk but--law!”

Dumbfounded, he halted.

“Asaph Holmes, you beat the Dutch,” laughed Althea. “Still, I wouldn’t
expect otherwise. You’re that innocent should Romeo an’ Juliet go to
love-makin’ under your very nose you’d never have an’ inklin’ they
entertained a partiality for one another.”

“I reckon men ain’t as quick at smellin’ out romances as women,” was
the mild defense.

“Lemmy warn’t so blind. He saw what was goin’ on, didn’t you, Lemmy?”

“I--well, it did seem as if the Doctor was takin’ aboard considerable
water,” confessed Lemuel with caution.

“I’m glad you got that far,” answered Althea, good-humoredly. “There’s
hope for you. Why, I didn’t have to do more’n glance at ’em to size
up the whole situation. He’s dead in love with her. That’s plain as
the nose on your face. She likes him, too, up to a certain point; but
she ain’t as sure of herself as he is. She’s kinder waverin’--tryin’
to make up her mind. It bothers him no end. That’s why he laughs that
nervous, uncertain way; an’ scowls when he thinks nobody’s lookin’.”

“For the land’s sake, Althea!” ejaculated Asaph with unconcealed
admiration. “How in goodness did you find all that out? You ain’t been
in the house more’n a couple of hours.”

“’Twarn’t difficult to see,” responded his wife with a shrug of her
shoulders. “A child could ’a’ read the story. All is, now I’ve told you
the state of affairs, you an’ Lemmy must on no account go blunderin’
in. You might upset the whole kettle of fish. Remember, love affairs
are delicate as cobwebs an’ easily spoiled.”

“Oh, neither Lemmy nor me would think of doin’ any meddlin’,” was the
reassuring answer. “Fallin’ in love ain’t in my line nor yet in his.”
Musing, he stroked his chin. “Wall, wall! Just to think of it! Peggy
an’ the Doctor! They’ll make a fine couple.” Then, after an interval of
thought he continued: “Mebbe, all things considered, it’s as well, they
won’t be comin’ here every day, from now on, for I’d be so took up
with watchin’ ’em, an’ worryin’ lest things warn’t goin’ right I’d get
nothin’ done.”

“That’s my feelin’ too,” echoed Lemuel. “I figger the turn affairs has
took is all for the best.”




                              CHAPTER XII


With Althea’s return life at the Belleport cottage speedily shifted
from a summer’s idyl into more ordinary routine, and in consequence
both Asaph and Lemuel Gill had occasional mornings when, no work being
required of them, they were free to snatch an odd hour or two for
gardening.

“It’s high time, too,” Lemmy announced. “The weeds are gettin’ the
upper hand somethin’ shameful among my annuals, an’ every rose I own
needs cultivatin’. Seem’s if flowers, like children, knew when your
back was turned an’ took that chance to go cuttin’ up. Them phloxes of
mine now--they never mildewed before; why should they suddenly start
out doin’ it when I ain’t lookin’?”

“I know,” returned Asaph with an understanding nod, “for ain’t the
clover playin’ fox an’ geese in the same sneakin’ fashion among my
aster plants? I’ve got to give the whole bed a regular overhaulin’.”

Lemuel puffed a ring of smoke meditatively toward the sky.

“Heard anythin’ yet from those Canterbury bells you set out this
spring?” he interrogated.

“Not a yip. Althea said when I ordered ’em I was throwin’ my money in a
hole an’ I begin to believe her. But the catalogue read so temptin’:

“’_A noble border plant with large cup-an’-saucer-shaped flowers._

“’_Extremely handsome. Will succeed in any well-drained soil._’

“Now wouldn’t that coax you into buyin’? As it happens I ain’t, mebbe,
quite so keen on cups an’ saucers as I was a while back; I figger I’ve
seen too many of ’em. Still that ain’t the fault of the flowers.”

“My clarkia ain’t come up neither,” commiserated Lemmy. “Them
new-fangled things don’t pay, an’ every time I’m hypnotized into
attemptin’ to raise ’em I call myself a fool. Yet for all that I
wouldn’t be content not to try. That’s the devil of it. You buy an’
you’re sorry; an’ you don’t buy an’ you’re sorry. You’re bound to be
sorry anyhow.”

A scowl settled on his forehead as he continued:

“When it comes to temptation, a garden makes three times the
spendthrift of you strong drink does. Last summer, for instance, I
tucked away quite a tidy sum to have my roof mended. During the winter
the rain an’ snow had kep’ me runnin’ hither an’ yon with buckets an’
basins till I was clean out of patience. I was just on the point of
waylayin’ Lyman Bearse at the store an’ gettin’ him to come an’ put
fresh tar paper over the leaks when in my letter box I spied a bulb
catalogue advertisin’ Darwin tulips. Right off I sez to myself: ’What’s
a few holes in the roof?’ So while I had the cash I made out my list
an’ with the first snowfall rigged the washtubs an’ basins in place
again, reckonin’ I’d lived that way four or five winters an’ likely
could worry through another.”

“You ain’t regretted it, I’ll bet.”

“Regretted it! Why, just the sight of Clara Butt a-blowin’ in the wind
made swabbin’ the floors all winter of no account.”

“Them catalogue fellers should hear you, Lemmy. They’d give you a job
advertisin’ their goods.”

“Me? Oh, I ain’t got the smooth tongue of them rascals. Talk of
mermaids an’ sirens! Were you to take their word you’d be believin’
every vine you planted was goin’ to bust the trellis inside a season.
Yet in spite of the fact I know better, there’s somethin’ so convincin’
in the way they put things it drives what few grains of common sense
I’ve got clean out of my head. Call their talk bosh as I may, those
sentences about ‘mammoth blooms’ an’ ‘flowers of tremendous size’ get
me. They keep echoin’ through my mind till they have me seein’ pansies
bigger’n butter-plates.”

He paused to crowd more tobacco into his corn-cob pipe.

“I’d oughter be content with flowers of normal size,” he went on.
“That’s the trouble with me. I’m graspin’ an’ want the biggest I can
get. That’s why I get punished, I reckon. Any flower is pretty when you
come down to it. You don’t need to go feedin’ it up with fertilizer to
make it blossom different from what the Lord meant it to. Neither is
there call for chasin’ the highty-tighty ones. Those that’ll ‘grow in
any poor soil’ are full as good as the others if we only thought so.”

Straightening up, Asaph regarded his comrade soberly.

“I’ve always thought that was a shabby advantage to take of a plant,”
declared he. “Just ’cause a flower can manage to struggle along in
poor soil is no reason to announce in print to all the world that it
relishes growin’ that way. Blazin’ star, now, for all it perks up an’
makes the best of a junk heap, puttin’ out blooms brave as can be,
would most likely appreciate tryin’ somethin’ richer if it got the
chance.”

“I dunno whether it would or not,” replied Lemuel. “’Course it seems
so on the surface. Nevertheless, after all don’t you s’pose there’s
plants like folks that are full as happy not to be growin’ in marble
urns? I know I’m that way. Transplant me to Buckingham Palace an’
inside a day I’d be pinin’ for Cape Cod an’ my shack. I warn’t meant
for any great amount of prosperity. Like blazin’ star, I’m just one of
the common things that’ll succeed in any poor soil.”

He rose, put his pipe into his pocket and, stretching his arms, yawned
with profound contentment.

“Wal’,” announced he, “I must be gettin’ under way. By the by, Asaph,
you ain’t got a handful of bone meal I could have, have you? Mrs. Aaron
Ward needs somethin’ stimulatin’ the worst way; an’ so does the Duchess
of Wellington.”

“Seems to me that Duchess of yours is always demandin’ nourishment.”

“No matter. She’s a lady an’ pays for what she gets. There ain’t a
better bloomer in my whole garden.”

“Ain’t goin’ to stand by an’ hear her slandered, are you?” grinned his
companion. “That’s right. A gentleman should always speak a good word
for the weaker sex. I’ll fetch over the fertilizer by an’ by.”

“I can take it myself.”

“No; don’t you wait. It’s in a barrel out in the shed an’ mebbe
Althea--”

“Oh!”

Asaph ignored the significant monosyllable.

“I’ll be pokin’ over your way in a little while, an’ will fetch it
along in a bucket.”

“Suit yourself. You know where to find me,” called Lemmy as he ambled
off down the lane.

Lemuel Gill seldom hurried, but today visions of weeds and rose beetles
stimulated him to move with more purpose than he customarily displayed.
Yet for all his haste he halted when part way on his journey to look
seaward to where the ocean, jade green above shoals of sand, rippled
with whitecaps. It was a brief glance. Nevertheless it was sufficiently
extended for the picture to etch itself on his consciousness and lift
him into a state of exaltation that prompted him to burst into a
lustily rendered bar of “Bonnie Sweet Bessie.”

He was still singing this refrain when he turned in at his gate, where
he again paused to gaze with satisfaction about him. Lemuel was very
proud of his domain, which to his mind never looked prettier than in
the gold of the morning sunshine.

In the little clearing of lawn was the faded green pump and the tub
beneath it dimpling with water that mirrored the blue of an azure
heaven. Along the clam-shell path leading up to it nodded tall Madonna
lilies flanked by spires of the lapis delphinium in which he took such
pride. Farther down the walk bloomed early phlox and Shasta daisies
nestling amid foliage dense and green as the tropics. In the dark he
could have put his hand on each one of these flowers in turn, so well
did he know their haunts.

In spite of the fact that the house was a mere toy of rose-buried
shingles and the grass plot before it nothing more than a pocket
handkerchief affair, no laird of sweeping acres held dearer his estate
than did Lemuel Gill.

“The place is mine, every inch of it--an’ mortgage free, too,” he was
frequently heard to boast.

“An’ what my roof ain’t big enough to cover I put outside under God’s
canopy.”

Unfortunately so trusting was Lemmy’s nature that a heterogeneous
collection of his possessions had gradually accumulated under the
latter shelter, and although they lent to the dwelling a certain
atmosphere of picturesqueness, they did not enhance the tidiness of the
place.

For example, there was Lemuel’s old yellow dory, the _Sally_, which he
had always meant to overhaul and repaint. He did not need her now that
he owned a motor boat. Once, long ago, when rigged with a leg-o’-mutton
sail, she had been capable of outdistancing any boat in the bay; but
that day, alas, was far in the past and the _Sally_ was at present only
a shell of rotting timbers. Nevertheless, Lemmy clung to her. One did
not lightly cast aside the companion of so many happy hours.

About this heirloom huddled a conglomeration of mackerel kegs,
dilapidated lobster traps, nets, oars, and a wheezy old blue
wheelbarrow which, though it creaked in every joint and constantly
threatened to fall in ruins, held together sufficiently well to be of
occasional service. And out of the resulting confusion stuck defiant
wooden handles, some of which terminated in rakes, hoes, and shovels,
and many that terminated in nothing at all but fragments of rusted
metal. To enumerate the tin cans and old iron that augmented this
unsightly heap would be impossible.

Altogether God’s canopy covered a so much larger proportion of Lemuel’s
belongings than did his own rooftree, that Althea Holmes could scarcely
be condemned for challenging the Captain’s right thus to impose on the
indulgence of the Almighty, and asserting he took too many liberties
with Divine Providence.

Perhaps he did. Lemmy had a childlike soul that trustingly expected
kindness. It was a soul very much at peace with itself and all the
world, and never had it been more entirely so than today, when, amid
the splendor of the morning’s early beauty the little man, still
humming to himself, stood delightedly regarding what was his.

The mundane world, however, offers few perfect moments to any of us,
and no sooner had Lemuel Gill abandoned himself to ecstasy than he was
brought abruptly to earth by the sight of a startled small boy darting
out of the garden.

“Hi!” bawled Lemuel. “Hi, there, you varmint! What are you doin’ among
my roses?”

The frightened child merely fled the faster.

“Stop where you are, you young devil, or I’ll flay the daylights out of
you.”

Appalled by the threat the trespasser ran faster yet.

In a twinkling the irate Captain was after him. He knew the boy would
be unable to scale the pile of rubbish lying directly in his path,
and the assumption proved to be true, for he soon overtook the little
fellow, who was now sobbing with terror.

Lemuel seized him by the arm.

“What you doin’ in my garden?” repeated he in a voice that might have
been heard to the tip of the Cape. “How dare you come in here breakin’
down my flowers an’ tramplin’ on ’em?”

“I--I--didn’t break ’em down,” the child panted. He was a shabby
urchin, tow-headed and with bare feet, which a worn pair of faded
overalls, sizes too large for him, all but concealed. Over his face,
streaked with dirt, now rolled two great crystal tears.

“I’ll have you hung for comin’ in here,” thundered the Captain. “I’ll
shake the life out of you. I’ll flay you till every bone in your body
is broken.”

With every threat the unlucky youngster cowered miserably.

“I’ll hang you up by the thumbs,” continued Lemmy, “an’ tar an’ feather
you afterwards.”

The captive uttered a strangling moan of fear.

“What brought you in here, anyhow?” fumed the little man in a voice
that began to evince exhaustion.

“I--I--wanted to--to see the roses,” gasped the boy.

“Do what?”

“See the--the roses,” reiterated the intruder with accumulating
courage. “I spied ’em from the beach. We ain’t got any at our house.”

“Where do you live?”

“Over Wilton way.”

“How’d you get here?”

“Father sailed some boarders over for a picnic.”

“An’ where are the rest of ’em?” demanded Lemmy, doubtful of the story.

“Down on the shore. I ran away.”

“You did, did you! Well, now you see what comes of it. Runnin’ away
ain’t ever the thing to do. It gets you into trouble. If you’d stayed
with your folks you wouldn’t ’a’ got the larripin’ I’m goin’ to give
you now.” He glowered down on the offender. “Whereabouts in the garden
have you been?”

“I didn’t go nowheres in the flower beds--only along the edge of the
border to look at this red rose,” whimpered the child.

“Humph! Like roses?” inquired Lemuel in a gruff tone.

“Yes.”

“What do you like about ’em?”

“The smell best--an’ the color,” answered the little boy, venturing for
the first time timidly to raise his eyes to those of the man standing
beside him. “The wild ones along the road smell nice, but not like
these. Besides, none of ’em are red.” With delight he pointed toward
the bloom of a giant Jacqueminot.

“So you like red roses, do you?” said Lemmy, letting the hand that had
gripped the urchin’s arm slip slowly down until it clasped the small,
clinging fingers.

“Yes.”

A pause ensued during which each of the combatants sought to recover
his breath.

“Do--do--you like red roses?” the child presently asked, drawing closer
to his captor.

“Yes, I do. I love all colors.” Involuntarily Lemmy gave the hand he
held a sympathetic squeeze.

Instantly the child smiled up at him.

“How would you like to have a red rose?” suddenly interrogated the
owner of the garden.

“One of these!” With shining eyes the small boy motioned in the
direction of the velvety flowers nodding in the breeze.

“Any one you choose. You can pick it out yourself. How’ll that do? Then
I’ll pin it on your shirt. What’s your name, sonny?”

“Danny Watson.”

“Wal’, Daniel, you certainly fell into a lion’s den when you came here.
Lucky for you I didn’t eat you up.”

The child laughed merrily.

“Fortunately there’s tame lions same’s there’s wild ones,” went on
Lemuel, whimsically. “Mebbe you’ve seen ’em at the circus.”

The boy’s eyes grew big and bright and he nodded.

“Well, that’s the kind I am; I’m a tame lion,” explained the Captain.
“I roar just the same as a wild one, but when it comes to bitin’ I stop
just short of it. Still, you don’t want to bank on that, ’cause some
day I might. Now s’pose after I’ve pinned this rose on you an’ given
you a cookie you an’ me set out to find your dad. He may be worryin’
about you. Have you any notion where you left him?”

“Round the curve of the beach.”

“My soul!” Lemmy ejaculated. “That’s quite a stretch of ground for your
little legs to cover. Ain’t you tired?”

“Kinder.”

“I reckon you are. Did you ever ride pig-a-back?”

“Dad often carries me that way.”

“You know how to mount up, then, don’t you? Keep a tight hold round my
neck so’st you won’t fall, Danny boy. I’ll ride you part way down the
shore. You can play you’re ridin’ a lion.”

“But you ain’t a lion,” objected the child, as with two soft arms he
obediently clasped Lemuel. “Lions are cross.”

“Warn’t I cross?”

“Only at first.”

“That’s because I’m a tame lion,” grinned the Captain.

It was fully an hour later when Lemmy, hot and exhausted from trudging
through the sand, returned to find Asaph Holmes awaiting him.

“Where in thunder have you been?” called his visitor impatiently. “You
told me I’d find you right here in the garden. I’ve been hangin’ round
with this bucket of fertilizer goodness knows how long.”

“I meant to be here, an’ I’d oughter been,” responded Lemuel. “The
whole mornin’s gone an’ I’ve nothin’ to show for it. Look at these
weeds. Did you ever see such a jungle of ’em?”

He indicated a few microscopic shoots of clover.

“Where were you?”

“Trouncin’ a small boy I found in the garden.”

“The scalawag! I hope you gave it to him good.”

“Yes, I did--that is--well, you see he was such a mite of a
critter--too little to shake. Besides, he liked flowers.” Then catching
sight of Asaph’s twinkling eyes he blustered: “But I walloped him, the
rascal! Don’t you fear I didn’t. He won’t be meddlin’ again with my
roses.”

In this prediction he was fully justified. Little Danny Watson would
have been drawn and quartered before he would have harmed a petal of
Lemuel Gill’s flowers.




                              CHAPTER XIII


For another week Althea wrestled heroically and silently with the
complicated problems the Dolphin presented, relying for aid on the
inadequate assistance of her husband and Lemuel Gill and the sporadic
visits of Peggy Davidson and the young doctor; then one morning, after
passing a sleepless night, during which twinges from a rheumatic
shoulder warned her of excessive fatigue, she observed at breakfast:

“I wouldn’t wonder, Asaph, but I’d have to get a woman in to help with
the tea. This bein’ in all places at once ain’t provin’ as easy as you
might think. With Peggy dashin’ in only haphazard I’ve nobody I can
actually rely on to bear a hand.”

“Ain’t you got me an’ Lemmy?”

“To be sure I have,” amended his wife with haste. “Still, as I’ve often
told you, men ain’t like women. Furthermore, we’ve no right to be
draggin’ Lemuel Gill here every afternoon to tote tea.”

“Pooh! Lemuel don’t care. He might’s well be doin’ that as anythin’
else. If he warn’t at the Dolphin he’d just be moggin’ round at home
weedin’ or else settin’ down on the beach with Zeke Barker. I’ve a
notion he enjoys comin’ here. He’s struck up quite an acquaintance with
some of the folks--that old Mr. Haverford, for instance, an’ the woman
from out West that raises prize dahlias.”

“Notwithstandin’ that, we’ve no claim to pin him down to comin’ day in
an’ day out,” persisted Althea. “Had I a woman to help he’d likely feel
freer to stay away when he wanted to.”

“I s’pose he might,” conceded Asaph, to whom the thought of Lemmy at
leisure to devote himself to horticulture while he himself toiled amid
the teacups did not altogether appeal. “Still, for all that, I don’t
see why we can’t pull along as we are for another spell. Ain’t we
makin’ out all right?”

Althea hedged. She was too proud to confess thus early in her Dolphinic
career that she was tired. Besides, fatigue was not her sole reason for
the move to which she was so diplomatically leading up.

“Oh, of course we’re makin’ out,” she answered. “Still, I believe
’twould be wiser to be breakin’ in a woman. S’pose I was to be sick?”

“Lemmy an’ me could bridge the gulf, I reckon, same’s we did before.”

“You had Miss Davidson an’ the Doctor to turn to then.”

“Not at first.”

“Well, you couldn’t be goin’ on like you did for long. Folks are
willin’ to take a chowder in place of tea for a joke; but when it
comes to doin’ it right along they’d balk. I’m moral certain, lookin’
at it from every angle, ’twould be better to get a woman in. You see,
servin’ tea with all the fuss an’ frills city folks demand ain’t like
dishin’ up a bean supper at the church. I could feed a hundred people
there in half the time it takes me to putter round with these mites
of sandwiches, morsels of lemon, an’ cinnamon toast. Then, too, the
china’s delicate to wash an’--”

“I said from the first that china was an idiotic investment,”
interrupted Asaph, manifesting unwonted asperity. “If there’s any sight
in the world more foolish than one of those silly teacups, thin as
vanity an’ not holdin’ more’n one good swallow, I’ve yet to see it.”

“That’s what folks use.”

“Wal’, they’re jolly welcome to,” was the grim retort. “I wouldn’t be
hired to have my drink turned out into any such egg-shell.”

“It may be thin--I ain’t denyin’ it is,” admitted Althea, who sensed
nothing was to be gained by a display of irritation. “But for all that
it seems to wear uncommon well. So far not a piece of it has been
broken.”

“I know that,” bridled Asaph. “An’ why? ’Cause ever since that crockery
crossed our threshold neither Lemmy nor me have drawed one comfortable
breath.”

In spite of her annoyance Althea laughed.

“If I got in a woman you could,” was her instant response.

“Mebbe.”

“Besides, with a capable person to leave in the kitchen, I could keep a
closer eye on what was goin’ on out front.”

“You mean you’d have more chance to visit with the people,” amended the
man shrewdly.

“I mean I could be surer they were gettin’ what they wanted,” retorted
Althea with chilling dignity.

Her clear-sighted husband greeted the explanation with a significant
chuckle.

“Wal’, have it your own way,” said he good-humoredly. “The Dolphin’s
yours to run as you please. I don’t care a hang what you do. Only where
could you find a woman, should you decide to hire one? The folks in
town have their hands full already, I guess, without takin’ on Dolphins
an’ tea drinkin’s.”

“Oh, I shouldn’t think of engagin’ any of the village people,” sniffed
Althea. “I wouldn’t take ’em at any price even if they’d come. I’d
rather have somebody from outside who wouldn’t go retailin’ our
business all over Belleport. I don’t care about havin’ every man,
woman, an’ child from here to Provincetown knowin’ exactly how many
visitors we have afternoons an’ how much money we’re makin’--though
fur’s that goes the way Lemmy Gill bets with the fishermen each day on
the number of folks who’ll come keeps the public pretty well informed
of our doin’s.”

“Lemuel don’t harm nothin’.”

“Don’t he traipse down to the shore an’ put up actual cash with that
no-account Zeke Barker about it?”

“He may do a bit of friendly jokin’ with Zeke,” admitted Asaph,
cautiously.

“Friendly jokin’! Now, Asaph, do be honest. Lemmy bets with Zeke
Barker; you know he does. Folks have told me so. It’s regular
gamblin’--a thing that’s against my Christian principles. It oughter be
against yours, too, an’ you a deacon.”

“Oh, Lemmy don’t put up much, just coppers. It’s his way of boomin’
trade.”

“I don’t see how you can be so easy goin’ an’ indulgent about Lemuel
Gill, Asaph. You are never willin’ to measure him up squarely an’
condemn his sins same’s you would other people’s. Bettin’s bettin’, be
it done with coppers, dimes, or dollars, an’ I don’t enjoy feelin’ me
an’ my concerns are the cause of it, innocent though I am of blame.
You’d oughter have conscience enough to object to it, too. But I s’pose
you’d no more own Lemmy was wrong an’ take him to task than you’d cut
off your head. You’re always standin’ up for him.”

Instead of denying the charge Asaph smiled blandly.

“I know it,” agreed he in a placid drawl, “an’ what’s more I figger
I’ll be doin’ it to the last minute of my life. I may even be backin’
him at the judgment throne if he needs backin’.”

“But why won’t you ever admit his shortcomin’s?” interrogated Althea,
impatience crisping the question.

“Admit ’em? What use would there be in that? Ain’t they there stickin’
out like sore thumbs so all the world can see ’em? But law, they don’t
bother me none. Lemmy’s sins are part of him. That’s the difference
twixt you an’ me. I like Lemuel as he is, faults an’ all. You, on the
other hand, are continually itchin’ to cut him to another pattern.”

“Yes, I am,” snapped Althea with spirit.

“You’re silly,” droned Asaph, “an’ wastin’ your energy, for in the
first place you never can do it; an’ in the second, you’re missin’
meanwhile the enjoyment you might be gettin’ out of Lemmy as he is.”

“Oh, I like Lemuel--don’t think I don’t,” his wife hastened to assert.

“I hope you do--hope so indeed. I’d feel almighty sorry if you didn’t,
’cause next to you there ain’t a bein’ on earth I set such store by as
Lemuel Gill.”

Considering the case closed he took up his hat and sauntered toward the
door.

“But about this woman, Asaph,” called Althea, staying him on the
threshold. “You’re willin’ I should get one?”

“Certain I am if you can snare her. But I reckon ’twon’t be easy as you
imagine. How are you goin’ to work to waylay anybody?”

His helpmate directed toward him a Mona Lisa smile, in which
condescension and pity were blended.

“Well, to tell the truth,” responded she, “I’ve somebody in mind
already. When I saw how things were goin’ I wrote up to Sister Sarah to
hunt me up a person in case--”

“Oh!”

Althea ignored the innuendo contained in the monosyllable.

“I thought it would do no harm to have somebody in reserve,” continued
she in an even tone. “Sarah knew of a woman who’d been actin’ as
housekeeper for an invalid gentleman who lives across the street. She
said she was just the caretakin’ person we wanted--capable, an’ smart
as a whip.” For the first time she hesitated and nervously fingered
the hem of her apron. “In fact, she’s comin’ down to see me today. I
thought I might’s well look her over. It commits me to nothin’.”

“Humph!” By this time, Asaph told himself, he ought to understand
Althea’s methods and cease to be surprised by her quiet way of carrying
her point. Yet every time she confronted him with her perfected plans
he was equally taken aback.

“Yes, she’s comin’ down from Brockton today,” his wife repeated.

“I don’t see why you troubled to ask me about havin’ her, then.”

“Now, Asaph, don’t be silly. I ain’t hired her.”

“N----o.”

“Then why get so uppish?”

“I ain’t uppish. I was just-- Is this her stoppin’ at the gate?”

“Mercy on us! I believe it must be. Well, I certainly didn’t bank on
her puttin’ in her appearance so early in the day. The whole place
looks as if it had been struck by lightnin’. However, if she’s comin’
here to live she may’s well see us as we are.”

She bustled to the window and peeped out through the closed blinds.

“Kinder perky an’ independent lookin’,” murmured she in accents colored
with faint disappointment. “Still, looks are often deceivin’. Yes,
marm, this is the Green Dolphin an’ I’m Mrs. Holmes. Come right in,
won’t you? We ain’t very tidy round here yet ’cause I ain’t got the
breakfast dishes washed up. You know how ’tis.”

If the sharp-eyed individual in the much-furbelowed hat and gown knew,
at least no sympathetic gleam from her countenance evinced the fact.
It was a hard face framed in the blackest of hair and adorned with an
inquisitive nose and a mouth that came together with the precision of
the slot in a penny bank.

Having swept a comprehensive glance over the interior of the room and
its occupants she turned with businesslike directness to Althea.

“There are just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

“And you’d want me to cook your meals?”

“Oh, I’d help. You see--”

“Your husband has his dinners at home?”

“Yes. We--”

“Cookin’ for two ain’t much when there’s no children,” announced the
woman as if thinking aloud. “I could give you your breakfast at eight.
That wouldn’t get me up early an’ yet, with dinner at one, would leave
me a nice long morning for work. There’d be a hot meal with meat,
vegetables an’ puddin’, I s’pose; or maybe pie. I never eat fish.
Supper you could have about five. Then I’d get everything washed up in
time to go to the movies. I s’pose there’s a picture show in town.”

“There’s one at Sawyer’s Falls; but--”

“How far’s that?”

“Six miles.”

“Humph! It might be nearer. Still, maybe I could manage. Have you got a
car?”

“No.”

“But there must be some way of gettin’ over there in the evening. Ain’t
there a bus?”

“A six-seated barge goes to the Falls every night with the mail.”

“That would do,” broke in the visitor taking up the thread of her
conversation. “Sundays I’d want off so I could go up to Brockton and
see my brother’s family. However, that wouldn’t interfere with you
much, for I’d cook you some beans an’ brown bread before leaving and
you could heat ’em up. Other days I’d be on hand to turn off the
morning’s work. I make it a rule never to do anything afternoons--I
rest--read, write or take a nap. There,” concluded she with a swift
nod, “I guess everythin’s settled. It looks as if we’d get on splendid
together. I can start right in Monday an’ my wages will be--”

Asaph, who was lounging against the frame of the door regarding the
stranger with a smile of quiet amusement, broke in upon her torrent of
words.

“Say,” demanded he in a slow, drawling voice, “just what gave you the
notion we’d get on splendid together?”

“Why--”

“An’ made you so sure we’d want you to start in Monday mornin’?”

“I understood from Mrs. Tyler--”

“An’ what led you to imagine we’d fall in with the schedule you’ve just
set forth?”

Spellbound with amazement the woman subsided into silence.

“We don’t want our breakfast at eight o’clock,” went on Asaph. “We have
it at six every mornin’ of our lives. Dinner’s at twelve, not one.
Supper’s a sort of no-account meal an’ comes at all kinds of hours,
bein’ made up chiefly of what’s left over from the Dolphin. As for your
readin’ an’ sleepin’ afternoons, you don’t appear to be aware my wife’s
runnin’ a tea-room an’--”

“Asaph!” ejaculated the astounded Althea.

“Well, why don’t you tell her somethin’ before she moves in bag an’
baggage an’ gets her trunk unpacked?”

“I was goin’ to soon’s I could get a chance. But I couldn’t get a word
in edgewise.”

With snapping eyes the woman sprang indignantly to her feet.

“I didn’t understand from your sister, Mrs. Holmes, that I was expected
to have anything to do with the tea doings.”

“Bless your heart, it’s because of the Dolphin we’re hirin’ help,”
explained Asaph.

“In that case I wouldn’t consider the position--not for a moment. I
couldn’t think of drudging round both morning and afternoon. Besides,
the tea would be liable to drag on and make me out late evenings.”

“You couldn’t go out evenings,” said Althea. “Often the cups an’
saucers ain’t washed before eight or nine o’clock.”

As the stranger tossed her head a large jet ornament on her hat tinkled
through the stillness.

“I wouldn’t take the place on any account,” repeated she, moving toward
the door. “Mrs. Tyler gave me the wrong impression altogether. She told
me--”

Whatever the picture the unfortunate Sarah had painted the black-haired
creature in the jangling bonnet was evidently too deeply incensed to
tarry and re-sketch it. Instead, muttering to herself, she sailed out
of the house and down the clam-shell path like a frigate-of-war with
steam up and every gun charged.

“My soul!” gasped Althea, crumpling weakly into a chair.

“Wouldn’t you know Sarah’d send you some half-cocked critter like
that?” stormed Asaph. “Prob’ly she didn’t even explain what was wanted,
but just aimed the hussy down here all unprimed an’ knowin’ nothin’.
Sarah’s that impractical she wouldn’t think farther’n her nose. Even
if the jade was good lookin’--”

“I didn’t consider her good lookin’.”

“I said even if she was,” repeated Asaph, carefully.

“She was a pert, insultin’, lazy upstart, if you want to know my
opinion of her,” his wife frowned.

“I wouldn’t have her in the house for no money.”

“Nor I!”

A pause fell between them.

“Well, that’s that!” acclaimed Asaph at last. “Now what are you goin’
to do?”

“Try the other one.”

“Try the--eh?” stupidly.

“Try another woman I’ve got track of, one from down the Cape,”
elucidated Althea.

Too dumbfounded to speak the man stared at her a full minute.

“Where’d you run afoul of her?” he inquired when he had got his breath.

“Through the fish-man. It’s always as well to have two strings to your
bow, to my way of thinkin’; so one day when he was here I asked him did
he know of anyone I could get in case it come to my hirin’ somebody,
an’ he told me of a Miss Rebecca Crosby, who, he vowed, was a treasure.
He said if he could snap her up before other folks did we’d be the
luckiest of mortals. ’Pears the brother she’s been keepin’ house for
has recently died an’ left her without a home. She ain’t ever worked
out before an’ wouldn’t be doin’ it now but for circumstances. ’Course
she ain’t up in city ways--wouldn’t know nothin’ about afternoon tea,
for instance; but he assured me she was willin’ an’ agreeable an’ that
counts for a lot.”

“From the sound I’d a hundred times rather have her than that Jezebel
of Sarah’s.”

“So would I. I reckon she’s more our kind. I’ll drop a line to Enoch
an’ tell him to bring her to see me the next trip he makes.”

As a result when the altruistic Enoch next made his rounds, in company
with him and the cod and cunners came Rebecca Crosby, and she never
went hither. One glance from Althea’s discerning eye was enough.

“She’s just the comfortable sort I shall admire to have round,”
confided she to her husband. “Had I scoured the length an’ breadth of
the Cape I couldn’t ’a’ found a woman more to my likin’. She actually
seems made a-purpose for us. Moreover, she’s full as pleased with the
idea of comin’ as I am with havin’ her. Wages are of less account in
her estimation than the securin’ of a good home, an’ we certainly can
give her that.”

Asaph fingered the chain of his big silver watch.

“You don’t think you’re rushin’ in a mite hurriedly, do you?” he mildly
suggested.

“No!” was the assured answer. “I know what I want when I see it. It
don’t take me long to make up my mind. In my opinion we’re blest of
heaven to get such a person. You’ll be sayin’ so yourself before the
week is out.”

Daring as was the prophecy, it was not a whit too sanguine, for the
span of days Althea had set apart had not passed ere Asaph was joining
with his better half and chanting the praises of Rebecca. That a
stranger could enter their doors and so speedily adapt herself to the
new environment seemed incredible. Without a vestige of intrusiveness
her quick intelligence fathomed the ins and outs not only of the
Holmes’s menage, but of its master and mistress. Her enjoyment of
harmless gossip delighted Althea as did also her interest in the
fashions and her feminine pleasure in a romance. Ah, here was a
companion after her own heart! Together they chatted of love affairs
and hair dressing; of ailments and crocheted lace; and while they
compared notes the routine of the Dolphin slipped lightly and airily
along.

Nor were Rebecca’s talents exhausted in cake and sandwich making. In
the remote days of her youth she had taught school, and in consequence
an alert, well-ordered mind stored with much of lasting value had been
bequeathed her. Hence she was able to discuss with Asaph, Webster,
Clay, and Jefferson, and touch his books with a hand as reverent as
his own. As for flowers--why, she had always grown them, she modestly
confessed.

Incidentally, with unobtrusive tact, she smoothed away many a rough
corner in the home and by her ready wit prevented friction.

For there was no denying that life with a horticulturist had its
drawbacks.

“Seems’s if I never lift a foot that I don’t stumble over some plant
that’s bein’ nursed along under a flower-pot, or a starch box filled
with rootin’ geraniums,” complained Althea to her newly acquired
confidante. “Gardenin’ is awful tryin’, take it by an’ large. Asaph’s
as good a husband as ever was born. Don’t think for a minute I’m
malignin’ him. But his catalogues, clippin’s an’ fertilizer drive
me ’most beyond endurance. There’s days I could pitch ’em all into
the sea. I no mor’n get the shed tidied up than he’s out there again
siftin’ more sand, stirrin’ together more soot an’ wood ashes. As for
them tins full of poison, it raises my hair to contemplate ’em.”

Sighing, she took up another slice of bread and began to butter it.

“There’s scarce a corner of this house that ain’t stuffed full of
articles on how to grow artichokes or raise mushrooms in the cellar.
Let a door open an’ away they blow. Now Asaph ain’t ever goin’ to do
nothin’ with artichokes. He ain’t ever seen one, to begin with; an’
were he to he’d never eat it. An’ the same’s true of mushrooms. Still,
he can’t resist gatherin’ together every word that’s written about ’em.
It’s terrible tryin’. I’ve got him trained now so he puts whatever he
cuts out in the table drawer an’ when I spy it bulgin’ so it won’t
shut, I simply clear it out an’ cart all that’s in it to the attic. He
seldom notices it’s been moved. Fur’s I can see, he never gives the
cuttin’s a second glance, though, to be sure, I occasionally hear him
murmurin’ of pastin’ ’em into books.”

Rebecca smiled but maintained silence. She possessed the rare gift of
looking sympathetic yet never taking sides.

“An’ it’s the same with the seed catalogues,” went on Althea, reaching
for another loaf of bread. “He an’ Lemmy Gill send all over the face
of the earth for ’em an’ read ’em threadbare; then they collect an’
collect on the sittin’-room table. I wait till the pile gets so high
I can’t see the lamp over the top of ’em, an’ then up the whole batch
goes to the garret. I used to scold about them an’ the clippin’s when
I first got married; but gradually I learned better. I found there was
no makin’ Asaph over. Furthermore, hectorin’ as he was his sins were
harmless. I decided a husband might be doin’ far worse things. Every
man, I reckon, has some faults--every woman, too, for that matter. It’s
far more peaceable to get on with ’em than to keep arguin’ about ’em
all the time.”

Cordially Rebecca nodded. She did nothing more at the moment. But one
day not long afterward she casually suggested:

“Why don’t you bring that box of perennials round under my bedroom
window, Mr. Holmes? There’s fine sunshine there an’ they’ll be less
liable to get stepped on or tipped over than on the back stoop.”

Gratefully Asaph welcomed the plan.

How pleasant to find somebody interested in the well-being of his
beloved progeny!

As for Rebecca’s passion for seed catalogues, it almost equalled his
own! With what marvellous dispatch and understanding she grouped
together the spring and the fall volumes and neatly tied them up! Ah,
the price of this woman was above rubies!

“I don’t see how we ever managed ’fore ’Becca came,” said the
simple-minded Asaph to his wife after a day in which the virtues of
this paragon had shone with especial resplendence.

“Nor I,” echoed Althea.




                              CHAPTER XIV


It did not take long for the intuitive Rebecca Crosby with her keen
scent for romance to detect the delicately poised and altogether
delightful state of affairs twixt Peggy Davidson and the young doctor,
and vastly interested was she therein.

“It’s easy enough to see how matters stand there,” commented she to
Althea after her first meeting with the young people. “He’s so in love
with her he scarcely knows which way he’s goin’. I don’t wonder at it
either, for she’s pretty as a picture; sensible, too, an’ common.” (By
common Rebecca meant democratic.) “Moreover I like him full’s well as
I like her. A fine, upstandin’ young chap as you’d find anywheres.
Sometimes, though, I pity him he’s so harassed. I s’pose it’s a girl’s
way to hector; but there’s moments when it almost seems as if she
carried it too far an’ pushed him beyond the limits of endurance.
’Twould serve her right were he to turn on her an’ hand out a bit of
her own teasin’.”

“You think she’s too sure of him?”

“Yes. He gives his hand away too plain.”

“Why don’t you put a flea in his ear?”

“I? Law! Why, I hardly know the man. He’d rate me as a meddlesome old
maid, I guess, were I to dip my finger into his pie; an’ rightly, too.
Besides, there’s no real need for interference. In the long run Doctor
Eric will win Miss Peggy without your help or mine, even though she is
a mite skittish at present. The two were made for one another.”

“That’s what I told my husband. A blind man could see that. An’ yet,
will you believe it, Asaph was as took aback as if I’d put a bomb under
his chair when I first mentioned their bein’ in love. He hadn’t even
suspected it, an’ here the affair has been goin’ on for weeks right
under his nose. He’s awful innocent that way.”

“Men are. My brother Thomas, now, never took in fallin’s in love.
There was times when he ’peared stupid as a codfish. The way he’d
open his eyes an’ stare at me when I’d tell him a morsel of gossip
actually turned me red an’ made me feel pryin’ an’ vulgar to have been
suspectin’ what warn’t on the surface.”

“I know,” asserted Althea.

Ah, how perfectly Rebecca understood humanity and what comfort there
was in having a person of her wisdom and perspicacity to confide in!
Althea wondered she had ever been content with an environment that
entirely barred out feminine companionship.

Oh, the satisfaction in discussing with a representative of her own sex
whether the cake wouldn’t have been a mite tastier if flavored with
burnt almond instead of vanilla; and talking over what the tea-shop
patrons wore! Many a time she would tiptoe back with a tray and beckon
her associate to peep through a crack at some unsuspecting guest who
had figured conspicuously in their conversation.

“That woman settin’ back-to at the middle table is the one I was
speakin’ about last night,” she would whisper. “The rich one from out
West. Lemmy Gill is positive the man with her is her husband; I say
he’s her son. His eyes are the same color as hers an’ his hair, too.
Take a look, do, an’ see what you think.”

Or Mrs. Holmes would hurry into the kitchen and remark _sotto voce_:
“’Becca, I could trim my black straw hat over exactly like that pink
one on the piazza without it costin’ me a cent. There’s nothin’ on it
but a rosette of ribbon.”

Nor were these trifling confidences the only ones that passed between
the discreet Miss Crosby and her employer. Many matters less trivial
were poured into Rebecca’s sympathetic ear and with the unburdening the
weight of their annoyance vanished. When Asaph was more disorderly,
absent minded, and phlegmatic than usual, and continually placed boxes
of sifted loam under foot, what could be more consoling than to
discover that during his lifetime Brother Thomas had been addicted to
this identical mania.

Indeed, this relative of Rebecca’s appeared to have run the gamut of
experience, and duplicating each emotion, fault, and virtue to have
embodied the total in an all-embracing philosophy applicable to every
issue that could possibly confront human clay.

Was the wheelbarrow left out over night to rust in the fog? Brother
Thomas had had to be reminded times without number to bring his in.
Or were the eggs forgotten, Brother Thomas, it proved, when present
in the flesh had been prone to forget the eggs. Then would follow an
amusing recital of what had been done to dry out the weather-beaten
wheelbarrow and counter-balance the tragedy of the missing eggs. Such
tales, when set forth with Rebecca’s dramatic skill, never failed to be
entertaining, dwarfing by their interest present misfortune and wooing
one into the best of humor.

Or was the issue less prosaic in content--a filament of ethical or
imaginative nature, Brother Thomas had either felt precisely that way
or had uttered wise counsel concerning a similar dilemma.

The phrase, “Brother Thomas used often to say,” was perpetually on
Rebecca’s lips, until her listeners were forced to the conclusion that
if a quarter of the observations credited to this worthy had actually
been vouchsafed, Brother Thomas during his earthly pilgrimage must have
been a deplorably garrulous talker.

Indeed, so frequently did this absent relative come to the fore that by
degrees he became a presence as real as Rebecca herself, lurking like
Banquo’s ghost in the background of all the Dolphin affairs, and making
at its tea parties the fifth member of the household. Blessed with
every virtue, damned with every fault, his modest soul would have been
aghast could it have returned to earth and beheld the cenotaph reared
to him by an adoring sister.

Yet despite the laurels that wreathed his brows, Brother Thomas was a
likable shade, so likable that Lemuel Gill affirmed had he stumbled
upon the spirit in the dark, or rounded some corner and found him
unexpectedly standing there, far from being alarmed he should clap the
apparition on the shoulder and hail him with delight. Unquestionably,
Thomas was a cheery phantom. A practical one, too, if Rebecca’s rating
of him was to be trusted. One could not picture him in wings and a
halo. Instead, it seemed certain that unabashed by the celestial light
that played forever on the Great White Throne, Brother Thomas was still
arrayed in his blue overalls hitched up by the particular make of
suspender he had so vehemently advocated in life.

It was the knowledge of Brother Thomas’s preferences in these intimate
matters that made of him so vivid and living a spirit and drove from
his personality every taint of the supernatural. One knew exactly
what kind of shoe, collar, and razor he had patronized; what make of
underwear; what color sock. And so excellent were his ideas concerning
these articles that both Lemmy Gill and Asaph gradually found
themselves creeping into the specific varieties he had made immortal,
and constantly projecting into the other world their congratulations on
his unparallelled good taste.

Lemuel, for example, gave over fastening on the buttons of his clothes
with wire or catgut, as had been his custom, and proceeded to sew them
to his garments with the especial make of linen thread Brother Thomas
had discovered to be enduring. He even went farther, and tested out the
paragon’s pet cut of tobacco.

As for Asaph, he in turn adopted as his own innumerable methods
practised by the departed. Certain of these, it is true, were forced
on him by Rebecca, who darned his socks, patched his coat, ironed his
shirts after the manner Brother Thomas had preferred.

A kindly creature was Rebecca; one who was always doing some thoughtful
act for others. Before she had been at the Holmes’s a day she had
remarked:

“As I was passin’ through the entry I noticed the rug needed fixin’ so
I took a stitch in it.”

She was continually taking such stitches. She took them here, there,
and everywhere. From her belt dangled a red tomato cushion stabbed
with needles threaded with black, white, brown, and grey cotton,
and whenever she espied a feebly attached button, an escaping hem,
the first subtle ravages of a rent, out of her pocket came her blue
celluloid thimble and grasping one of the needles adorning the tomato,
Rebecca “took a stitch.” Asaph declared no better characterization of
her could be given than that afforded by these few significant words,
and asserted the phrase should be graven on her tombstone. The stitches
were humble, understanding, sympathetic ones, and never failed to
promote happiness.

She mended Asaph’s frayed cuffs; shortened Althea’s petticoats; even
went so far as to volunteer to darn Eric Hollingsworth’s stockings. It
was noticeable, however, that she never presumed to suggest meddling
with Lemuel Gill’s precariously constructed wardrobe. Whether she
curbed her altruism because of diffidence, or whether the omission
resulted from a sense of maidenly propriety, the slight was evidently
intentional, for no one of Rebecca’s quick observation could have
failed to be aware of the legion of stitches the Captain’s garments
required.

To be sure, she occasionally performed for him some especial service,
such as offering to secure for him a slip of the hydrangea growing
on Brother Thomas’s grave. It had been a signal honor, and Lemmy had
been overwhelmed by it, since to get the cutting had meant a trip to
Truro. But for all that, a reserve she had not at the outset displayed,
almost imperceptibly began to rear itself ’twixt her and the little
man. Lemmy, sensitively attuned, sensed the barrier and screwing up
his courage tried now and then to surmount it by consulting her about
a tailoring problem that outdistanced his amateur skill. But though
courteous, Miss Crosby did not encourage these advances, and it was to
Althea he subsequently came with his difficulties.

“Seems to me Lemmy’s gettin’ terrible puckered up an’ queer with
’Becca,” remarked Asaph to his wife one night when the two were secure
within the fastness of their bedroom.

“Is he?” Althea went on indifferently, braiding her thin pigtail down
to its very tip, appearing vastly interested in the process.

“Ain’t you noticed it?”

“I’ve noticed he was extra polite to her, if that’s what you mean.”

“He’s too polite. ’Tain’t natural for him to be that way. He never
jokes with her or calls her by her first name, same’s the rest of us
do--at least not to her face. Sometimes I wonder has he took a slant
against her.”

Althea smiled down at the strand she was weaving.

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you,” said she, soothingly.
“Everybody can’t take a fancy to everybody else in the world. Besides,
he’s no more stilted an’ odd with her than she is with him,” and then
she laughed a strange, enigmatical laugh.

“But ’Becca’s such a good soul,” persisted the man, still unsatisfied.
“I don’t see how Lemmy can help takin’ to her. What on earth can he
find in her to dislike? I can’t for the life of me make it out. You
don’t s’pose he’s miffed an’ jealous because of our havin’ her here an’
makin’ so much of her, do you?”

“Mebbe.”

“Wal’, I call it very silly of him an’ I shall tell him so.”

“Now, Asaph, you let Lemmy alone,” commanded his wife with sudden
spirit. “Don’t you go meddlin’ with him. You can’t talk people into
likin’ others.”

“N--o. No, I reckon you can’t. Still--”

“You know you can’t. You’re far more likely to drive ’em the other way.”

“P’raps you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” came positively from the woman. “You just keep your
mouth shut an’ don’t go botherin’ with what don’t concern you.”

“But Lemmy’s affairs do concern me.”

“Possibly--some of them. But there’s others that don’t. Rebecca
Crosby’s one. Take my advice an’ hold your tongue regardin’ her.”

“I will if you say so,” mumbled Asaph. “Only I don’t see why--”

“You don’t need to,” Althea retorted and laughed again.

Accordingly Asaph held his peace, and having unloaded this quandary
upon his better half’s trustworthy intellect, he dismissed the puzzle
from his mind. Even if he had not he would doubtless soon have
forgotten it, for there were times when the obstruction estranging
Lemmy and Rebecca seemed to disappear altogether and leave them as
merry and unrestrained as they had been at first.

On such an evening, the aftermath of a particularly felicitous day,
Asaph and his comrade chanced to be dallying in the garden while the
women sat nearby, silent in the quiet and coolness of the long summer
twilight.

“Can’t you step over an’ have a look at my dahlias, Asaph? They’re
comin’ on fine.”

“Not tonight, Lemmy. I’m trackin’ down white grubs. They’ve gnawed away
the roots of three of my best campanulas, drat ’em!”

“The pests! Ain’t that always the way?” commiserated the Captain.
“There’s no comfort raisin’ flowers. When you ain’t sprayin’ your roses
for aphids or black spot you’re chasin’ cut-worms, red spiders, or
some other hectorin’ critter. There’s always some fly in the ointment.
I can’t for the life of me ever recall just settin’ down to enjoy in
peace an’ quiet what I’ve planted. No sooner do I get comfortable on
the steps an’ think how pleasant the breeze is than I spy a rambler
that needs trainin’ up; a vine that wants prunin’; or some corner
that’s smothered in weeds. There’s no such thing as rest. Seem’s if a
garden, like the Evil One, was always steppin’ on your heels.”

“Still, for all your grumblin’ you wouldn’t be without one,” responded
Asaph, elbow deep in dirt.

“You bet I wouldn’t,” was the prompt reply. “Much as it plagues me I’d
be uneasy as the Wanderin’ Jew were I without flowers. Growin’ things
are rare company. My dahlias now--from the day I set ’em out I’ve had
no end of pleasure watchin’ ’em. Mebbe I was foolish to squander so
much money on ’em. Folks would say so. Nevertheless, I figger to get
full returns for every penny I’ve put into ’em. Not only shall I enjoy
the blossoms when they come, but this fall every plant oughter yield at
least three good tubers. I’ll give you some of ’em, Asaph.”

“I’ll buy ’em of you.”

“You will! Well, I’d like to see you do it,” protested Lemmy
indignantly. “Ain’t you given me slips without number? Why, those
hybrid delphiniums were worth a generous batch of dahlias. Furthermore,
I like the fun of distributin’ my wares to my neighbors. That’s half
the satisfaction of raisin’ flowers. No-siree! You’ll buy no bulbs of
me. In the autumn, though, you shall have as many as you can plant.”

“Now, Lemuel Gill, don’t you go givin’ Asaph more dahlia bulbs,” called
Althea, who had overheard the offer. “He ain’t goin’ to have one more’n
he’s got already. Those have caused trouble enough.”

“What do you mean--trouble?”

“Ain’t we been tendin’ ’em all winter like we would a family of
children--keepin’ ’em warm; keepin’ ’em moist; keepin’ ’em dry? My
soul! We’ve tugged them boxes from one end of the cellar to the other
over an’ over again. I could have brought up half a dozen babies in the
time I’ve spent haulin’ them bulbs round.”

“Oh, come, come, Althea! ’Twarn’t so bad as all that,” contradicted her
husband, grinning.

“It was every bit as bad. You can’t tell me anything about dahlias.
Ignorant as I am about flowers, that’s one branch of horticulture I’m
primed on.”

“How come you to be so up on that?” asked Rebecca Crosby.

“I’ve had experience. Sister Sarah’s husband went to the Barnstable
fair once an’ got so addle-pated lookin’ at the exhibits nothin’ would
do but he must bring home a dozen prize dahlia bulbs. Some man coaxed
him into the belief he could raise blooms as big without turnin’ over
his hand. He learned better.” She gave a short, disagreeable laugh.

“Couldn’t he make ’em grow?” inquired Rebecca, with interest.

“Make ’em grow! Oh, they grew fast enough,” Althea sniffed.

“Then what was the matter?”

“There wouldn’t ’a’ been any matter, I s’pose, if Sarah, Jabez, an’
the rest had had nothin’ to do in life but tend those dahlias; but
unfortunately they had.”

“Pooh, pooh, Althea! Nonsense! Dahlias ain’t the trouble all that comes
to,” objected Lemuel Gill, who had drawn near and seated himself on the
steps.

“Maybe they ain’t. Still, I guess I know what happened to my own kith
an’ kin,” was the tart retort.

“What did happen?” queried Lemmy, all meekness.

“Well, as I said, Jabez fetched home them bulbs an’ all winter long
had Sarah totin’ ’em from Dan to Beersheba, same’s Asaph’s had me.
First they’d start wizzlin’ up an’ Jabez would spray ’em; then they’d
go to moldin’. He had ’em covered with burlap, an’ covered with
newspapers, an’ did everythin’ but sit an’ fan ’em. Sarah said she was
never so thankful in all her born days as when spring came an’ ’twas
time to put the pesky things into the ground.”

“Mercy! I’d no idea dahlias were that much bother,” asserted Miss
Crosby.

“Accordin’ to Lemmy’s tell they ain’t,” was the scathing answer. “His
neither dry up nor rot.”

“Wal’, I could hardly say that,” Lemuel was forced to own.

“You mean you have to be fussin’ with ’em durin’ cold weather same’s
Althea says?” inquired Rebecca.

“I do have to kinder keep an eye on ’em,” confessed the discomfited
Captain.

“You do? You surprise me,” taunted Althea. “I gathered from what you
said you never had to take a second look at ’em.”

“There, there, Althea,” Asaph put in, “Lemmy means that once they’re in
the ground they’re little care.”

“He does, does he? Well, I beg to differ from him. Little care! They’re
care from start to finish. To begin with, puttin’ ’em in the ground’s
a care--an’ there’s where Jabez imposed on poor Sarah somethin’
shameful. He got her to help him dig the holes to plant ’em in; search
out a pole for each one; an’ print a tag so’st its name could be posted
above it like a headstone. The poles had to be set in the ground
before the tubers were planted, he said, because if you drove ’em down
afterward you were liable to drive ’em through the bulbs. Poor trustin’
Sarah! So innocent was she an’ so anxious to see the earth close over
them sprouts, that she worked like a beaver helpin’ Jabez chop the
poles an’ label ’em. She’d ’a’ done anythin’ he asked, be it what it
might, to be clear of them roots; she told me so herself. Lemmy, of
course, makes nothin’ of strippin’ poles an’ settin’ ’em out; or mebbe
his bulbs don’t have to have any.”

“Yes, they do,” the little man growled.

“Oh! Well, you make terrible light of gettin’ ’em in place.”

“I didn’t say dahlia plantin’ was no work.” Signs of a rising storm
were apparent in the tone.

“If the plantin’ was all, I’d not be dwellin’ on it,” came instantly
from Althea. “It’s the unplantin’ that’s the trouble--as poor, deluded
Sarah learned to her sorrow. That’s where Jabez tricked her. All the
time she was workin’ an’ exultin’ at gettin’ them tubers into the
ground, he knew perfectly well that in the fall they’d got to come up
again; but Sarah didn’t. She slaved away steadyin’ the poles, writin’
the tags, an’ even cultivatin’ the wretched plants all summer.”

“Did they blossom well?” piped Lemuel, his irritation submerged for the
moment in horticultural sympathy.

“Yes. The blossoms warn’t nowhere near the measurement, though, Jabez
had said they’d be. He had ’em big as the top of a barrel at first;
afterwards he backed down to a water pail; then gradually he reduced
’em to dinner plate size, an’ that was pretty near the dimensions they
turned out to be. But they were handsome enough to make Sarah feel
they’d been worth the trouble, an’ she was just beginnin’ to think that
mebbe after all she was goin’ to get a sight of pleasure out of ’em,
when one day late in the autumn Jabez remarked kinder casual:

“‘Well, Sarah, it’s about time, I reckon, we were diggin’ the dahlias.’

“You never saw a more flabbergasted individual in your life. I happened
to be there at the time an’ the sight of Sarah’s face was a study.

“‘What do you mean?’ stammered she.

“‘The dahlias have got to come up before the frost, you know,’ replied
Jabez, offhand as could be.

“‘Roots an’ all?’ gasped Sarah.

“‘Of course.’

“‘You--you mean we’ve got to--’ she eyed him stupid as a dogfish.

“‘We have to take in bulbs, poles, an’ everythin,’ Jabez answered.

“‘Oh,’ was all she said. I guess ’twas all she was capable of utterin’,
poor soul!

“Well, they got ’em in, carted ’em to the cellar, an’ nursed ’em
through the cold weather same’s I told you. Then in the spring, when
Sarah was prayin’ for strength to plant ’em again, Jabez began cuttin’
’em up, explainin’ how the tubers had multiplied an’ how he now had
three or four times as many as he’d had the season before. He seemed
tickled to death an’ proud as a peacock at the thought. But Sarah
warn’t. It meant cuttin’ three times the number of poles; writin’ three
times the number of labels; diggin’ treble the number of holes. She was
clean discouraged; an’ when she thought how they’d all have to be dug
up again in the fall, she was more discouraged still. Likely Lemmy’s
dahlias don’t increase this way--”

“They do!”

“There, there, Lemmy, don’t go gettin’ irritated,” soothed Asaph.
“Althea’s only jokin’. Let him alone, can’t you, Althea? He’s gettin’
all riled up.”

“Well, anyhow, Jabez’s dahlias went on accumulatin’ that way,”
continued Althea serenely, “till poor Sarah was at her wit’s end.
Every fall there were more an’ more of ’em, an’ there was no such
thing as coaxin’ Jabez to give one away. He always had some reason
why he must keep ’em. The red ones sorter matched the pew cushions
an’ looked good in church; the yaller ones cheered up the house; the
white ones couldn’t be equalled for weddin’s an’ funerals. As for the
pink ones--he liked those best of all, an’ certainly wouldn’t think of
givin’ those away on any account.

“So finally one day when the cellar was bulgin’ with boxes an’ barrels
of bulbs, an’ they’d overflowed till every shelf in the cold closet
was loaded with ’em, Sarah just up an’ told Jabez he’d have to choose
’twixt them an’ her. Either they went out of the house or she did.”

“Land alive! She did bring him up with a sharp turn,” ejaculated
Rebecca.

“He had to be brought up,” was the brief response.

“Somehow such decisiveness don’t sound like your sister Sarah,”
ventured Lemuel Gill after a pause. “’Twarn’t one of them times when
you went up to sorter advise her, was it?”

A flush crept into the woman’s cheek, and seeing it Lemmy smiled.

“Wal’,” drawled he, “don’t worry, Althea. I won’t give Asaph no
dahlias. Then he’ll be saved the trouble of choosin’ ’twixt ’em an’
you.” And feeling he had repaid in full the taunts that had been heaped
upon him, the Captain rose, and chuckling to himself, departed down the
lane.




                               CHAPTER XV


Monday proved to be a record-breaking afternoon at the Dolphin. Golden
with sunshine and cooled by a gentle southwest wind, it was one of
those rarely beautiful days that seldom fail to lure pleasure-seekers
out into its glory. Never had the sky arched over a bluer sea, or
meadow and marsh been clothed in more vividly resplendent green.
Through the wee Cape villages motor cars raced this way and that, and
long before tea time every table on the Holmes’s piazza brimmed with
guests.

All the morning Althea and Rebecca had been preparing for the rush
experience had taught them such weather was sure to bring, and the
reluctant Asaph, who had sneaked surreptitiously away to dig a bit of
bone meal in around his hollyhocks, was promptly recalled from this
congenial task and set to gathering fresh bayberry for jars and baskets.

He lent his services grudgingly. The fascinations of tea drinking were
beginning to pall on him, and now that his wife had a competent helper
he had fallen into the habit of letting one after another of his
former duties slip off on to Rebecca’s willing shoulders.

Today he obeyed Althea’s summons with even less alacrity than usual,
causing her to exclaim with impatience:

“Do hurry up, Asaph. Seem’s if it’s the least you can do to fetch the
greens if ’Becca an’ I ’tend to the rest of the work. Since you’re
bound to potter with flowers anyhow, why not do it to some purpose? All
that diggin’ don’t amount to anything except to make the hollyhocks
shoot up higher, an’ goodness knows we can hardly see the tips of ’em
as ’tis.”

“Cultivatin’ keeps ’em bloomin’.”

“I wouldn’t have the face to urge human plants to blossom more’n they
have,” was the curt retort. “Ain’t they crowded with buds this minute?”

“That’s ’cause I’ve put fertilizer on ’em,” returned the man with
triumph.

“Pooh! How can you be sure they wouldn’t ’a’ bloomed that way anyhow?”

Asaph sighed. To prove horticultural truths to one as skeptical as
Althea was well-nigh hopeless.

“Here’s a basket to gather the bayberry in,” went on his wife, in no
mind to abandon her purpose until she beheld her victim safely on his
way. “An’ before you go, do move these cloth-covered boxes off the back
steps. Somebody’s goin’ to break their neck over ’em if you don’t. I
thought I asked you yesterday to tote ’em round behind the house.”

“These are others.”

“What’s in ’em?”

“Young asters, a new kind. I got the seed from a New Jersey nursery an’
am tryin’ it.” Asaph bent tenderly over his treasures. “They ain’t very
strong yet, so I’m protectin’ ’em from the sun for a few days.”

“You ain’t got my cheese-cloth duster over ’em!”

“I don’t know. It’s a piece of thin stuff I found lyin’ round.”

“It is my duster--one of my weddin’ ones--all feather-stitched round
the edge. I hunted high an’ low for it yesterday,” announced Althea.
“An’ that muslin--if it ain’t the shed sash curtain that I took down to
wash!”

“Is it?” The florist, interested in his plants, spoke with indifference.

“Yes, it is!” reproached Althea. “Now, you can’t have either of
those things. The very idea! A good sash curtain to cover over your
boxes of dirt. It’s a wonder you wouldn’t take the parlor draperies.
Why don’t you ask me when you want somethin’ instead of catchin’ up
whatever’s in sight without so much as lookin’ to see what it is? My
nice scrim curtain--an’ scrim costin’ what it does today!” She sighed
a disheartened sigh. “Likely it’s torn, stained, an’ good for nothin’
now.”

“I’m sorry,” murmured the penitent. “I’d no idea ’twas of any account.”

“Nothin’s of account to you ’cept that garden,” flared Althea in an
outburst of indignation. “I’m actually gettin’ so I dare not put a
thing out of my hand lest it be grabbed up an’ used for plant growin’.
Every tin in the pantry would ’a’ had poison mixed in it if I hadn’t
set my foot down. As ’tis it’s a marvel we ain’t all been killed long
before this with your blue sprays, brown sprays, an’ yaller sprays. Now
you take my sash curtain straight off that soap box; an’ the duster,
too.”

“But, Althea, I’ve got to have somethin’ thin to shade them seeds,”
protested her husband.

At precisely this juncture Rebecca Crosby, bearing a basketful of
freshly washed silver towels, sauntered carelessly out the door.

“My, what a day!” exclaimed she, breaking cheerily in on the scene.
“These towels will dry in no time.” Then glancing down she remarked
casually: “What you got there, Mr. Holmes? The new pink asters? I’d
no idea they were up so far. Ain’t they a mite young for the bright
sunlight? I’ve a scrap or two of muslin you might spread over ’em if
you’d like it. ’Twas an apron I thought mebbe I’d take a stitch in
sometime; but it’s really too old to mend.”

“I’d admire to have it.” There was no mistaking Asaph’s gratitude.

“You would? Well, well! I hardly thought you’d care for it. I’ll run
an’ fetch it. Goodness knows I’ll be only too thankful to have it used
an’ out of the way.”

In a trice Rebecca returned, the cobweb of cloth in her hand.

“It don’t look worn,” commented Althea as she stooped to reclaim her
property.

“I know it,” agreed ’Becca, her cheeks turning pink. “But for all that
it’s rotten as can be. A touch would send it into ribbons. However, I
guess ’twill serve to shade these seedlin’s till they’re big enough to
do without protection.” Then addressing Asaph she said in a lower tone:
“Why don’t you lay a board or two out beyond the currant bushes an’ put
your boxes there? Then they’ll be out of harm’s way an’ certain not to
get stepped on.”

“I s’pose I might.”

“Here’s Captain Gill a-comin’,” proceeded the diplomatist swiftly.
“Like’s not he’ll help you move ’em an’ help about gettin’ the
bayberry, too.” As she spoke she whisked about and caught up her basket.

“’Mornin’, Miss Rebecca,” called the new arrival when he was within
hailing distance.

“Good-mornin’, Cap’n.”

“Not leavin’ us, are you?”

“Yes, I must go an’ hang out my towels. We’ve a busy day ahead.”

“Expectin’ lots of folks for tea?” It was a foolish question and Lemuel
knew it, but at the moment it was the only one he could think of to
arrest Rebecca’s departing footsteps.

Miss Crosby, however, was not to be detained by so transparent a ruse.
She even scorned to reply to it. Instead she nodded over her shoulder
and moved unrelentingly off in the direction of the clothes yard.

“What’s she always in such a damned hurry for?” Lemmy interrogated.

“Has things to do, I reckon,” was his crony’s guarded answer.

“So do I,” grumbled Lemuel. “I have oceans of things to do. So does
everybody. All the same I don’t set about ’em as if I’d been shot out
of a gun.”

“Mebbe you’d have more to show for it if you did,” grinned the other
man. “Come, bear a hand an’ help me h’ist these boxes, will you, Lemmy?
I’m goin’ to move ’em over beyond the currants.”

“What for? I thought we decided yesterday this exposure would be--”

“Althea says--”

“Oh!”

Without further argument Lemuel rolled up his sleeves and the two
confederates tugged the offending seedlings away.

When they were well out of sight Rebecca came with deliberation back
from behind the house. She was humming softly and the sunshine or some
other agency as potent had brought a flush of rose into her cheeks. If
she had previously been in haste, her hurry was to all appearances now
forgotten, for she stopped and, as if she had the whole day before her,
centred her attention on fastening into her crisp print gown a spray
of heliotrope she had gathered. It was while she was thus engaged that
Eric Hollingsworth turned in at the gate.

Rebecca greeted him with a welcoming smile.

“A glorious mornin’, Doctor.”

“M--yes. The weather’s all right.”

“Where’s Peggy?”

“I couldn’t say.”

“You’ve not seen her today?”

“Oh, I’ve seen her. She’s got company though.”

The newcomer gazed moodily out to sea.

“Company! Now that’s nice,” returned Miss Crosby, with instant
interest. “I was thinkin’ only the other day how pleasant ’twould be if
there were more young folks over at the Inn. Some friend of hers from
Cambridge?”

No answer came from the Doctor.

“I reckon it must be,” soliloquized Rebecca, after having waited a
second and received no reply. “Likely it’s some girl from Cambridge--or
mebbe Boston.”

“It isn’t a girl,” burst out Eric irritably. “It’s some darn navy chap
plastered all over with brass buttons.”

“My soul an’ body! An’ when did he arrive?”

“Saturday night, just before the dance.”

“You don’t say! He was a dancin’ man, I s’pose.”

“All those popinjays dance,” growled the physician.

“Prob’ly they do,” came serenely from Rebecca, who bent to smooth out
the hem of her apron. “They’re taught on shipboard most likely to make
themselves agreeable no matter what.”

“Well, they can be agreeable for all me,” sneered Doctor Hollingsworth
with a short laugh. Nevertheless the rebuke had its effect, for the
frown furrowing his brow lessened and he contrived to direct toward the
woman at his elbow a wry smile.

Faint as was this apology, it had upon Rebecca, accustomed habitually
to go more than her half way, immediate effect.

“Prob’ly he won’t stay long,” soothed she in a voice reassuring with
comfort and sympathy. “Those officers only have short spells of shore
leave. They always have to get back to their ships within a few days.”

The Doctor did not appear to have heard the words, but the viciousness
with which he kicked the turf abated noticeably.

Rebecca eyed him from under her lashes.

“I don’t s’pose you’d have the leisure to stay an’ help us a bit
today,” ventured she presently. “I’ve no business to ask you, an’
Althea’ll likely trounce me for doin’ it. But we’re kinder put to it to
get ready for the throngs of folks we’re expectin’ this afternoon, an’
if you could give us a little lift--”

“I’ve all the time in the world.”

“Really? You’re sure I’m not takin’ you away from somethin’ you’d
planned on doin’?”

“Certain sure!”

“Now ain’t that lucky! You couldn’t ’a’ happened along at a better
time. With the weather what it is another pair of hands will be a
positive blessin’.”

The subtle implication that somebody was eager for his society
flattered the disheartened lover, who brightened very considerably.

“I’ll do anything you order--gather greens or slice lemon,” laughed he
magnanimously.

“Gather greens! Now how did you come to think of that? Mr. Holmes an’
Cap’n Gill are settin’ out this very minute to cut bayberry an’ cedar.
If only you’d go along with ’em an’ see they get the right sort of
sprays it would be the biggest comfort. You know what we want so much
better’n they do.”

Ah, Eric knew! Had he not helped Peggy arrange the decorations scores
of times?

“You can take my basket,” pursued Rebecca, giving him the empty one
that was in her hand. “Get cedar that has berries on it if you can;
it’s so much prettier.”

With boyish jubilance the Doctor caught up the basket. Already the
spell of the summer day was upon him, its enchantment, like an opiate,
deadening the poignancy of his wounds.

Rebecca waved him out of sight. Then when he was lost amid the pines
that edged the little lane she hastened indoors.

“What do you s’pose has happened?” cried she, bursting breathlessly in
on Althea. “One of those brass-trimmed navy chaps has chased Peggy down
here!”

“Land alive! How’d you know?”

“The Doctor was here an’ told me. Gloomy as the grave he was; an’ mad
as a hatter. We’ve got to do somethin’ with him or he may get himself
into mischief. I’ve sent him off gatherin’ evergreens. When he comes
back we’ll put him to work. Can’t he slice bread?”

“Oh, he’d get it too thick.”

“Well, some chore has got to be provided for him till he pulls himself
together.” Rebecca pursed her lips thoughtfully. “I have it!” she
exclaimed. “We’ll set him to foldin’ paper napkins.”

“Law! That’s child’s play. He’d have ’em done in no time.”

“Let him fold a lot--dozens of ’em. Trot out all you have stowed in the
attic. They’ve got to be folded sometime, an’ may’s well be done one
time as another. They’ll take his mind up an’ keep him from thinkin’ of
himself.”

“I can’t for the life of me see why he didn’t clinch matters with Peggy
an’ make sure of her when the coast was clear an’ he had the chance,”
grumbled Althea. “Here he’s had her to himself since June. Why ain’t he
perked up an’ said somethin’ instead of dallyin’ round day after day?”

“Mebbe he hadn’t the nerve to speak,” excused the more charitable
Rebecca. “Brother Thomas used often to say the bravest men turned
weak-kneed when it came to proposin’.”

“Well, his philanderin’ may cost him a good wife,” sniffed her
companion.

“Not if he goes at things right,” asserted Miss Crosby sagely.

Curiously enough, despite her spinsterhood, it was Rebecca who was
conceded to be the authority in all affairs of the heart. Her lynxlike
eyes were ever on the unconscious Peggy and her swain, studying the
amatory barometer and passing on her observations to her less acutely
observant associate.

The times she had coaxed Asaph out of the grape arbor that the youthful
pair might enjoy its seclusion, and prevented Lemuel Gill from breaking
in upon a tête-à-tête of delicious nothings were innumerable. Like an
anxious mother bird fluttering protectingly over her fledglings she
would remark:

“Seem’s if she’s sorter offish this afternoon. When I took in their tea
they weren’t speakin’. She was just settin’ lookin’ at the table an’
playin’ with her spoon. I hope to mercy nothin’s wrong.”

Or:

“He’s terrible cast down today. I’m most afraid they’ve had a fallin’
out.”

“They were all right when I saw ’em five minutes ago,” Althea would
respond.

“A lot of damage can be done in five minutes,” would be the oracle’s
sagacious answer.

So the days had passed, Cupid’s temperature being taken every time his
form ventured into sight.

Hence it was scarcely a wonder that the advent of a hero bedizened with
gold braid set both Althea and the watchful Rebecca into almost as
violent a flurry as it had Eric Hollingsworth.

“I wish to mercy this brass-buttoned chap had stayed away,” wailed
Althea for the twentieth time. “What will happen now, I wonder? Ain’t
you worried to death, ’Becca? I am. Girls are so foolish an’ those
uniforms--” She paused helplessly.

“Pooh! Don’t go takin’ too much stock in all that gilt trumpery,” was
Rebecca’s contemptuous response. “Let this navy officer be what he
will, I’ll risk the Doctor against him. His good looks alone will carry
him. Women think a lot of that.”

“Mebbe. Still I’m sorry the man’s turned up, ain’t you?”

“Not altogether. It makes things more excitin’. You certainly couldn’t
expect a girl pretty as Peggy to have but one string to her bow. Livin’
in Cambridge as she does right alongside of that Harvard College
crammed with men, ’twould be queer enough had no one noticed her.”

“Goodness, ’Becca! What an upsettin’ notion!”

Miss Crosby appeared to enjoy her friend’s chagrin.

“I don’t see how you can take it all so lightly,” went on Althea. “The
whole thing is gettin’ me so on edge I feel’s if ’twas I the Doctor was
in love with. Asaph’s growin’ jumpy, too; an’ only last night Lemmy
Gill told me he thought fallin’s in love were terrible unsettlin’.”

“Captain Gill said that?”

“Yes. He declared a love affair was as uncomfortable as anything he’d
ever had dealin’s with.”

“I wonder he don’t let ’em alone then,” sniffed Miss Rebecca.
Nevertheless, something in the Captain’s observation seemed to amuse
her vastly, for she laughed beneath her breath.

“What you laughin’ at?”

“Nothin’. Just somethin’ I was thinkin’ of.”

“I wish I could laugh as you do over Peggy an’ her concerns,” Althea
sighed. “You ’pear to relish the mess. The more tangled up it gets the
better you seem to like it. I believe you’re a born match-maker.”

“I’ll own to havin’ had my finger in quite a few love affairs in my
day,” smiled Rebecca.

“How ever did you dare?”

“Providence needs aid occasionally,” was the retort. “I know the sayin’
goes that marriages are made in heaven; but they have to take place on
earth for all that. I’ve made four marriages to my certain knowledge
durin’ my lifetime--possibly five. An’ I’ve helped on dozens.”

“Rebecca Crosby!”

The horror in Althea’s ejaculation was unconcealed.

“Yes,” added Miss Crosby, ignoring the interruption and proceeding with
serenity, “I’m sure I can take credit for five marriages at least.”

“How’d they turn out?”

“All right; as well as most. They had their ups an’ downs, to be sure,
but that’s to be expected. The fifth one warn’t much to boast of.
Still, I didn’t look for it to be ’specially successful. It wouldn’t
’a’ been anyhow.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, both him an’ her were harpies. Either one of ’em was bound to make
somebody miserable. So I conceived the idea they’d do less damage yoked
together an’ I set ’em on one another,” answered Miss Crosby placidly.

“’Becca!”

“Well, warn’t that plain common sense? Warn’t it far better for
their characters they should get as good as they sent than bully an’
tyrannize all their days over some meek, timid soul who’d knuckle under
to ’em an’ just make ’em worse?”

“E--r--p’raps so,” foundered Althea, who obviously felt herself beyond
her depth when confronted by such novel ethics.

“I reasoned that way, anyhow,” continued the philosopher, “an’ I ain’t
ever seen cause to change my mind. It certainly was better two folks
should be miserable than four.”

“I dunno but ’twas,” groped Althea uncertainly.

For an interval the loud ticking of the clock and the distant murmur of
the surf were the only sounds in the room.

“Queer you never married yourself, ’Becca--an’ you so keen on
match-makin’,” ventured Mrs. Holmes, having completed in thoughtful
silence the buttering of the pyramid of bread before her.

“I? Oh, mercy! I’ve seen enough of men,” Rebecca bristled. “I wouldn’t
be bothered with ’em. Besides, I had Mother an’ Aunt Feemie to think
of; an’ afterward there was Brother Thomas.”

“You nursed all those folks?”

“I was glad to do it. It was because of Mother’s sickness I gave up
teachin’, you know.”

Althea did not reply at once. Instead she meditatively beat to a cream
the butter in the blue china bowl before her.

Then she remarked softly as if half to herself:

“It was kind of a pity, ’Becca.”

“My givin’ up teachin’ you mean?” came in an even tone from the other
woman. “Well, I was sorter sorry because--”

“I didn’t mean that.”

For response Miss Crosby cocked her head critically to one side and let
a spoonful of fragrant orange frosting drip with gentle, clock-like
beats into the dish in her lap.

“Should you say this icin’ was stiff enough?” was her irrelevant query.




                              CHAPTER XVI


The afternoon was at its height and the Dolphin gay with patrons, when
a low grey car rolled up to the Holmes’s gate and from it alighted
Peggy Davidson and a young naval lieutenant. The girl was wearing a
clinging gown fashioned from some soft woolen fabric, and a saucy
little hat cast a warm rosy shadow over her face.

It was plain from the deliberation with which the pair dallied along
between the tall foxgloves and nodding purple monkshood bordering
the path that they were far more interested in one another than in
afternoon tea. Nevertheless, they at length ascended the steps leading
to the veranda and, searching out a table just vacated by a couple no
more hungry than themselves, they sat down.

Althea spied them and hastened forward.

“Oh, Mrs. Holmes, how good it is to see you!” cried Peggy, placing her
hand with a gesture of caress on the elder woman’s arm. “I want you to
meet Lieutenant Shattuck who is here from Annapolis.”

The officer rose. He was a fine specimen of young manhood--erect,
clean-shaven, and with a frank, appealing smile that instantly put
Althea at her ease.

“I tell him,” continued Peggy, “that the Dolphin has the best tea to be
found anywhere in the world; and that is a daring claim to make to a
connoisseur who has travelled the globe and sampled tea in almost every
port under the sun.”

“I shall be afraid to offer him ours,” smiled Althea half timidly.

“You needn’t be. We do not need to apologize for our Dolphin brew,”
dimpled the girl. “Besides, he is just home from a cruise to the Orient
and at present everything American has a halo resting on it.” She toyed
with her spoon to avoid the glance her companion flashed her. “Do tell
me how things are going here,” she went on, addressing Althea. “Miss
Rebecca is still with you?”

“Oh, yes, indeed! We couldn’t live without ’Becca.”

“She’s wonderful, isn’t she?” agreed Peggy. “And Mr. Holmes and the
Captain are as busy with their flowers as ever, I suppose.”

“Still a-putterin’ same’s they were when you were here. They’d be in
the garden from sunrise to sunset if they were let alone.”

“A garden is a tremendously engrossing thing,” laughed Peggy. “I must
see them before I go and hear just what’s in bloom. And speaking of
flowers, how lovely yours are today!” She motioned toward a jar of
cedar where blue berries starred the foliage like jewels.

“They do look nice. Doctor Hollingsworth fixed ’em.”

“Eric! Why, I’d no idea he had so much artistic ability. He has been
hiding his light under a bushel. Offer him my compliments when next you
see him.”

“You can offer them yourself. He’ll be here in a minute; he’s out in
the kitchen.”

“Is he?” Peggy seemed taken aback. “Well, I’m glad to know he is making
himself useful. With such a crowd as you have today you certainly need
all the aid you can muster. I actually felt guilty to come and swell
the number you already have to wait upon.”

“You needn’t have,” was Althea’s instant retort. “I guess if anybody’s
earned the privilege of bein’ waited on at the Dolphin it’s you. What
shall I bring you with your tea? We’ve lobster salad sandwiches, cheese
dreams, cinnamon toast--”

“You choose for me, Mrs. Holmes. I adore being surprised, you know.
Lieutenant Shattuck gave me a genuine thrill when he appeared
unannounced at the Inn Saturday.”

“Are you stayin’ long, sir?” questioned Althea, addressing the stranger.

“I hope so,” responded the officer, smiling in friendly fashion. “It
all depends. My ship is to pick me up later at Provincetown; but I do
not know when.”

“In the meantime I shall bring him here very often,” announced Peggy,
with a pretty air of proprietorship. “I want him to become acquainted
with all the nice things the Cape has to offer, and I hold the Dolphin
to be the very nicest of the collection. Now we must not monopolize you
for another second, Mrs. Holmes, or your other guests will be mobbing
us. Already Miss Haverford, who is just behind you, has been motioning
for at least ten minutes. She probably wants hot water. She is always
diluting the poor old gentleman’s tea.”

Off bustled Althea.

“Well?” interrogated Miss Crosby, who detected an unwonted excitement
in her friend the instant she entered the kitchen. “What’s up now?”

“Peggy Davidson’s in there with him,” Althea panted in a whisper.

“The brass-buttoned chap?”

Nervously Mrs. Holmes nodded.

“I’m terrible upset. The Doctor’s helpin’ wait on table an’ he’ll be
sure to spy ’em sooner or later.”

“What if he does? He can’t expect every male but himself to be brushed
off the face of the earth.”

“But it’s awful they should run afoul of one another here.”

“Not if they’re gentlemen an’ have any sportin’ blood,” replied
Rebecca, straightening in her chair as if she rather anticipated the
prospective encounter. “The thing for Eric to do is to perk up an’
pretend he don’t care a straw. If I was in his place I’d carry in their
tea myself an’ thump it down on the table as if they were nobodies.
Ketch me givin’ myself away an’ showin’ the white feather.”

“You’d oughter been a man, ’Becca,” responded Althea with admiration.

“There’s times when I wish I had been. The parts they have to play are
so interestin’. Makin’ love now--I’d like nothin’ better than to do it.
There’s so many cute little speeches a man can make to a girl if he’s
smart enough to think of ’em. It’s like bein’ on the stage. I always
did have a leanin’ toward dramatics.”

“I don’t s’pose it seems dramatic to them.”

“But it is. Only it’s a real play instead of a make-believe one--that’s
the difference. Life is the theatre right over again. That’s what makes
it so fascinatin’. Why, we’ve got somethin’ good as any movin’ picture
right here under our noses this very minute--the heroine, the two
rivals, all the fixin’s for a first-class show.”

“I wish we hadn’t.”

“Nonsense, Althea! Why are you so timorous? You’d oughter rise up an’
get enjoyment out of it all since you’ve got the chance. You would if
’twas a book. You’d delight in such an excitin’ story.”

“I know it. But you see when it’s goin’ on before my eyes--”

“You don’t hanker for it? I do. I can take as much pleasure watchin’
Peggy an’ those two men as if I was at a play. It’s thrillin’ beyond
expression. I hope the navy feller is good lookin’, ’twould be a pity
she should be wasted on a plain man.”

“Oh, his looks are all right.”

“Is he handsome as the Doctor?”

“M----m, I hardly know. Mebbe you’d say so. The Lieutenant is light
complected, though.”

“One light an’ one dark! Ain’t that perfect?” ejaculated Rebecca,
softly clapping her hands. “I told you it was all like a book.”

“Why don’t you carry in their tray an’ then you can get a peep at the
new beau.”

It was plain the suggestion tempted Miss Crosby, for she seemed on the
point of acquiescing; nevertheless, after a moment of thought, she
resolutely swept the idea aside.

“I mean Eric shall,” was her answer.

“Rebecca! You wouldn’t send that poor young man on such an errand as
that--not really!”

“Indeed I would,” promptly asserted Rebecca. “He’ll much better do
it than your husband or Captain Gill. They’d be sure to say the wrong
thing.”

“Men are sorter blunderin’,” Althea admitted. “Mebbe--”

But Miss Crosby did not delay to hear her confederate’s cautious
philosophy.

“Doctor Hollingsworth!” called she as the young man passed through the
doorway, “how’d you feel about takin’ this tray in to Peggy? She an’
that friend of hers are havin’ tea out on the piazza.”

The man started, a wave of color surging from neck to forehead.

“Both the Captain an’ Mr. Holmes are busy an’ the dishes are too heavy
for Mis’ Holmes to lift,” went on ’Becca in an even tone.

Despite her innocent air, however, fun and excitement danced in her
eyes, and catching their challenge Eric darted her an understanding
smile. Then, squaring his shoulders with a determination that showed
the humor of the situation was not lost upon him, he took up the tray.

“Certainly I’ll carry it,” nodded he.

“Just set it down an’ don’t loiter, ’cause there’s somethin’ else I
want done when you get back. You won’t need to do more’n just greet
’em, I guess.”

The remark dropped lightly as a rose petal--so lightly that only the
keenest observer would have sensed the demure little woman, intent
on spreading with mayonnaise flakey bits of lobster, was in reality
coaching the star actor of an engrossing comedy.

“I’ll be back directly.”

Again the glance of the two met, and heartened by the realization that
he had a stanch ally, young Hollingsworth departed.

In the meantime Rebecca waylaid both Asaph and Lemmy Gill and announced
to them quite as if it were an every-day happening:

“Peggy Davidson’s in there havin’ tea with some friend of hers. Doctor
Eric is talkin’ to ’em now. By an’ by you must go in an’ see her.”

It seemed wiser to let it go at that. Indeed, before she had
opportunity to explain further, Hollingsworth was at her elbow.

She lifted her eyes inquiringly to his face.

“Well?”

“They said to tell you everything was delicious. What else do you want
done?”

As if she had crossed a reach of foaming rapids, Rebecca drew a quick
breath.

“Sit down a second an’ let me think. It’s gone clean out of my head,”
she murmured. “’Twill come to me in a moment. It was somethin’ quite
important.”

But although the young physician remained for some time at her side,
the elusive task Miss Crosby wished to have performed failed to
present itself to her memory. Whenever he stirred and threatened to
leave her she would exclaim:

“Wait just another jiffy; I’m almost rememberin’. I shall have it in a
trice. Meanwhile, since you’re settin’ here would you mind dryin’ some
of this lettuce. Here’s a towel. Just sop it off gently. I can’t endure
wet lettuce, can you?”

The diplomat might as well have fastened a ball and chain to the foot
of her victim so securely was he bound to her apron strings. And when
at length the task she had set was finished and he was free to go,
behold, Peggy and her swain had departed.

“Not a bad beginnin’,” acclaimed she to Althea later on. “But it’s got
to be followed up. The man can’t be left hangin’ round that hotel with
nothin’ to do but stare, glare, an’ make himself cheap. Somethin’s
got to be done with him.” She meditated. “I’ve a sort of cousin in
Springfield--a cute little mite of a thing who goes to Smith College.
Eleanor Parker, her name is. I wish to mercy I had her here.”

“What for?”

“Althea! If you ain’t ’most as stupid as your husband! Why, as a sort
of counter-irritant, of course--to take up Eric’s mind an’ give Miss
Peggy somethin’ to think of.”

“You wouldn’t meddle in any such fashion as that, would you, ’Becca?”
was Althea’s horrified query.

“Indeed I would--in a good cause.”

Mrs. Holmes vouchsafed nothing more, nor did Rebecca force her to
further conversation. But after the two had sat in silence for almost
an hour it was no surprise to the arch conspirator to have her say
timidly:

“I s’pose you might invite that cousin of yours down to make you a
visit, ’Becca. That wouldn’t commit anybody to anythin’. We’ve plenty
of room an’--”

“You’d really like me to?” asked Miss Crosby in a tense whisper.

Apparently a measure of her excitement communicated itself to her more
conservative companion, for presently, casting hesitation to the winds,
Althea replied in accents as reckless as her own:

“Yes, I would. You could explain to her how the land lies an’ coach her
up, couldn’t you?”

“Certainly.”

“Do you s’pose she’d come?”

“Oh, she’d come fast enough,” declared Rebecca with assurance. “She’d
like nothin’ better than to get a whiff of salt air. She used to come
down to see Brother Thomas an’ me when she was a child, an’ admire to.
But of late I’ve had no place to invite her to. I happen to know she
ain’t had any vacation this summer. She an’ her mother are in moderate
circumstances, an’ Eleanor can’t afford to board away from home. Should
she come she’d gladly help round in return for her keep, an’ p’raps
another pair of hands wouldn’t be amiss.”

“They certainly wouldn’t on days like this,” smiled Althea. “You go
ahead an’ ask her. Send her word tonight an’ tell her to start quick’s
she gets the letter. Nobody need know about it but ourselves. I’ll fix
things with Asaph. What more natural than your relatives should make a
trip to the Cape to see you?”

“You’re sure you want her? I warn’t actually serious about it, you
know, when I begun. I was just kinder thinkin’ aloud an’ turnin’ over
in imagination what could be done, when the idea popped into my head.”

“But you’d enjoy havin’ the girl here for a while, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, indeed! I’m fond as can be of her an’ her mother. They’re the
only folks I have in the world. Ever since Brother Thomas’s death
they’ve continually urged me to come to Springfield an’ live with
them. But I’d rather be independent. You know how ’tis. When you’re in
somebody else’s home you’re neither hay nor grass--neither one of the
family nor a visitor. Besides, I reckon I’d never be content such a
distance away from the sea. After livin’ always on the coast the brine
gets into your blood an’ you feel like a fish gaspin’ for breath if
you go inland.”

“I know,” agreed Althea. “I wouldn’t live in the country were I to be
given a farm an’ acres of land. ’Twould be no inducement.” Then, with
mind still intent on the scheme in hand, she added, as if to calm the
clamors of an uneasy conscience: “Likely comin’ to Belleport for a time
will do your cousin worlds of good. You write her so’st the letter
will be ready to go in the evenin’s mail an’ I’ll send Asaph to the
post-office with it.”

“It’s awful kind of you, Althea.”

“Heavens to Betsy! Don’t put it that way. I like havin’ company.
Furthermore ’twill be excitin’. I believe, Rebecca, I’ve caught your
match-makin’ spirit. I never was mixed up in anythin’ of the sort
before; but I’m bound to confess the adventure of it does set one’s
blood to tinglin’.”

“Of course it does,” chuckled the contriver of the plot. “In my opinion
there’s nothin’ can compare with a good live love affair for interest.
Now if Eric will only brace up an’ do his part--”

“Mebbe he won’t take a fancy to your cousin.”

“No matter if he don’t. He can manage, I guess, to put up with her for
a little while. Don’t worry about that. Leave him to me. I’ll make
him understand the arrangement is for his good. Hush, here comes your
husband an’ Captain Gill. We’d best keep the matter to ourselves if
we don’t want the fat in the fire.” Then in quite another tone Miss
Crosby called:

“Folks all gone, Cap’n?”

“The last bloomin’ one went out the gate just now. I’m tired to death
an’ hungry as an elephant. What a day!”

“How many people have we had? Got any idea?”

“I lost track of ’em. They got to pilin’ in at such a rate all I could
do was to whirl round an’ round with the cake like a dancin’ dervish.
I’ll bet every smitch of food’s et up,” concluded he despondently.

“No, it ain’t,” contradicted Rebecca, “I saw to that. There’s salad in
the ice-chest; an’ sandwiches an’ iced tea besides. Moreover, there’s a
plate of your favorite little orange cakes under the big yaller bowl on
the pantry shelf.”

“You’re an angel, Miss ’Becca!” began Lemuel. “In all my life I never
met--”

“Instead of talkin’ nonsense you an’ Mr. Holmes better go an’ fetch
some chairs,” interposed Rebecca. “We’ll have a picnic supper right
here. Persuade the Doctor to stay, too. He must be hungry as the rest
of us.”

“Who said eats?” called Eric.

“Come, bring along a chair,” put in Althea.

“There’ll be nothin’ for you at the Inn at this hour, so you may’s well
have your supper here. Besides, we’ve a bit of news we want you should
hear. ’Becca’s cousin is comin’ from Springfield to make her a little
visit--at least we hope she is. She ain’t been away all summer, an’ I
thought a breath of Cape air would do her good. We’re aimin’ to give
her a real good time if she comes. She’s young, you see. Still, spite
of the fact we’re all old folks--all but you, Doctor--I reckon we can
make things pleasant enough for her so she won’t be lonesome.”

“I’m sure we can,” returned Asaph, his kind heart touched by his wife’s
appeal. “I’m glad, ’Becca, some of your people are comin’ to see you.”

“What age is your cousin?” piped Lemuel Gill.

“She’s in the twenties.”

“Bless my soul! Nothin’ but a girl!”

Miss Crosby nodded.

“It’s her mother who’s really my cousin,” explained she. “But I always
rank ’em together.”

“That’s why we may have to call in the assistance of somebody younger’n
ourselves to entertain her,” Althea interpolated, “I’m dependin’ on
Doctor Hollingsworth to do some of the honors.”

“I shall be glad to.”

“That’s good of you,” Rebecca declared. “I sha’n’t let the child bore
you, I promise you that.”

“No relative of yours could possibly be a bore, Miss Rebecca,”
responded Eric with a gallant bow to the little woman.

And with this introduction the prologue to the approaching drama ended.




                              CHAPTER XVII


“The Dolphin is certainly increasin’ with amazin’ rapidity,” remarked
Lemuel Gill to Asaph a few days later, while the two were sprinkling
with sulphur the mildewed leaves of a giant pink phlox.

“We are gettin’ together quite a houseful,” acquiesced his crony. “Now
Eleanor Parker’s come the rooms are full of people as a pod is full
of peas. Still, I was almighty glad to ask her. It pleased ’Becca no
end, an’ I’d go a good bit out of my way to give happiness to Rebecca
Crosby. Furthermore, we’re enjoyin’ havin’ the girl round. She’s like a
fresh west wind--so cheery an’ wholesome. Old folks like us need young
folks about ’em or they get crabbed an’ set in their ways. Now you
couldn’t get very set with a person such as Eleanor is. She’s forever
dashin’ in an’ dashin’ out--goin’ clammin’, crabbin’, bathin’, rowin’,
an’ I don’t know what not. I never saw such energy in all my born days.
An’ everythin’ she does she has such an elegant time a-doin’. It’s fun
just to set back an’ watch her. Althea’s havin’ the time of her life
with so much company. There’s three females now to talk bunnits an’
fol-de-rols.”

“Meantime it certainly leaves us more to ourselves,” murmured Lemmy
with a sigh of satisfaction. “We ain’t had a chance to do so much
cultivatin’ an’ transplantin’ all summer. My garden looks like another
place an’ so does yours. You can’t work to much purpose when ’twixt
every weed you pull somebody’s summonin’ you to go to the store for
eggs; forage the fields for mint; or go chasin’ cedar boughs. How
Althea manages to hang onto her enthusiasm for all this tea business
beats me. I must own that even fudge cake is beginnin’ to have only a
faint attraction. I’ve et so much of it I--”

“An’ I, too,” Asaph nodded. “That sweet stuff gets terrible cloyin’
after a while. I’d give more for a bowl of blueberries an’ milk than
for all the cake ever frosted. But the women wouldn’t. This little
cousin of ’Becca’s now, she nibbles down slabs of chocolate cake like
as if she was a squirrel munchin’ nuts. It’s amusin’ to see her. I find
myself continually starin’ at her for sheer pleasure. ’Tain’t that
she’s so pretty. She can’t hold a candle to Peggy Davidson, not in my
opinion. But she has a way with her you can’t help likin’--a kinder of
a takin’ way same’s a kitten has.”

“Zeke Barker says she’s a hummer,” grinned Lemuel. “Already she’s been
down to the shore an’ took the men by storm. Zeke is for askin’ her
fishin’, an’ has bet me a silver quarter she wouldn’t dare take a
squid off the hook should she jig one. But he don’t know her. She’d go
to a squid or an eel same’s a man would. Still, I didn’t tell him that.
I let him put up his money.”

Asaph bent to twitch a faded leaf from the plant beside him.

“Mebbe ’twould be just as well not to mention that joke at the
Dolphin,” responded he with obvious embarrassment. “You see, Althea’s
got strong notions about--”

“About my takin’ money from Zeke?” cut in the unabashed Lemuel.

“Uh--huh.”

“’Gainst her principles, eh? Well, well! Think of Althea concernin’
herself about my morals!” He sobered. “I can’t remember the day a
woman’s given my soul a thought. You thank her, won’t you?” He seemed
touched. “Still at the same time you might assure her that while the
little wagerin’ I do with Zeke ain’t harmin’ me, it’s doin’ a lot for
his Christian character. You’ve got to be mindful of your neighbor’s
good’s well’s your own, you know. Partin’ with money ain’t Zeke’s
strong point. It costs him a pang every time he does it. Now, my theory
is that his spendin’ muscles want exercisin’. I reason every copper I
wring out of him makes ’em that much more limber. By an’ by, if I keep
at him long enough, I figger to get him so’st he can hand out a dollar
bill without havin’ to be rubbed down with liniment afterwards. You
might put it to Althea that way. Mebbe she’d feel different.”

“I’m afraid she wouldn’t.”

“Humph! That’s too bad. Well, we can’t all feel alike. This Parker
girl now, she saw my point right away, agreein’ there was nothin’ like
gymnastics for strengthenin’ one’s weak parts. For a girl so young
she’s tremendously understandin’. Have you noticed how took with her
Eric seems to be? He’s hung round her ever since she came, takin’ her
ridin’ an’ dancin’ till I’ve hardly known what to make of it. Sometimes
I’ve thought Peggy wondered at it, too. Why, ’twarn’t no time ago he
was danglin’ at her heels like as if he couldn’t bear her out of his
sight. An’ now look at him!”

The little man stroked his chin.

“Kinder surprisin’, ain’t it?” echoed his friend.

“Surprisin’ ain’t the word. I call it disconcertin’,” announced
Lemmy. “In my day if you toted a girl round ’twas because you were
keepin’ company with her an’ meant to marry her. But now--Lord! Today
everybody goes with everybody--married or single, it don’t make no
difference--an’ it means nothin’ in the world. Look at the folks that
come to the Dolphin for tea--husbands with other men’s wives, an’ wives
with other women’s husbands; fellars that take out a different girl
every day in the week. It’s too much for my understandin’. S’pose you
was to invite Ephriam Wise’s wife a-ridin’ an’ Eph was to take out
Althea? Or s’pose I was to go meanderin’ out with Rebecca Crosby--”

He came to an abrupt halt as if the sentence so thoughtlessly begun had
presented to his imagination a situation never before contemplated.

“I know,” interrupted Asaph, who, bending low over a kaleidoscopic
mass of portulaca, had failed to take note of his colleague’s startled
expression. “Belleport would be doin’ some pretty stiff talkin’, I
guess. Likely it’s all custom. City folks do heaps of things different
from what we do ’em here. I’m always tryin’ to remember that. Take
Peggy an’ Eric, now. There ain’t two better young people livin’; an’
yet here they are, she shiftin’ from him to that navy chap, an’ he
swappin’ her off for ’Becca’s cousin with less fuss than the tide makes
a-turnin’.”

Lemuel, deep in thought, offered no reply.

“I’m kinder sorry ’bout it, too,” went on the man, “’cause Peggy an’
the Doctor were a couple pleasin’ly matched, to my eye. Wal’, I reckon
there’s no use wastin’ tears about it. Worry helps nothin’. Besides,
like as not they’ll whiffle round again an’ next we know the navy
lieutenant may be matin’ up with Eleanor Parker an’ the Doctor with
’Becca Crosby.” Chucklin’ at the jest he awaited Lemmy’s answering
guffaw.

But no sound of merriment came from the Captain. Instead he stood
glowering down upon the riot of color at his feet as if its gaiety
irritated him.

“Those spranglin’ things make me tired,” he growled. “I’ve got a bed of
’em over to my place an’ they spread round as if they owned the earth.
I’ve been tempted a hundred times to pull ’em all up.”

“I thought you liked ’em,” ventured Asaph, puzzled by Lemuel’s sudden
change of mood.

“I don’t.”

“Ain’t that funny, now? Folks’ tastes do certainly differ concernin’
flowers. I set a lot of store by my portulacas. As for Rebecca
Crosby, she admires ’em above everythin’. She has a leanin’ towards
bright-colored flowers anyhow. Only yesterday she was remarkin’ how
cheery the sight of this bed was.”

“Likely it is,” came grudgingly from Lemmy. “Oh, I s’pose I’ll leave
mine since they’re planted an’ doin’ well; still, they do take a sight
of room.”

Having dragged himself out of his reverie far enough to participate in
the argument he promptly settled back into it again.

Asaph, however, was too much interested in his work to heed his
preoccupation.

“What do you figger Rebecca makes of this cousin of hers tearin’ the
length of the Cape with Eric Hollingsworth?” he inquired, chatting on.

Lemuel yawned and with visible effort once more came back to life.

“I dunno. She don’t seem to take no notice of it. Likely she’s as put
to it to understand the goin’s on of this generation as are the rest of
us. What has Althea to say about it? Have you talked with her? She must
have an opinion.”

“I did sorter hint to Althea one night that it looked to me as if
affairs ’twixt Peggy an’ the Doctor were goin’ awry, an’ she just
laughed an’ said not to bother my head about ’em; ’twas all right. So I
reckon it must be. Even if ’twarn’t I don’t see what you an’ me could
do about it.”

In the meantime, while the two men scratched their heads and pondered,
Althea and Rebecca, the instigators of the plot, sat in the kitchen
cracking nuts and stoning raisins.

“It’s goin’ better’n I hoped,” Miss Crosby was saying. “The Doctor is
playin’ up splendid. I’d no idea he’d take hold so well. An’ the best
of it is he seems to be really enjoyin’ it. You’d think he’d known
Eleanor months instead of days.”

Althea’s answer came with less exultation.

“Oh, there’s no trouble about the way they’re gettin’ on,” said she.
“The thing that’s worryin’ me now is whether they ain’t puttin’ up with
one another ’most too well.”

“What do you mean?”

“Havin’ too good a time.”

Lightly Rebecca laughed.

“Oh, mercy! Don’t fret about that. It’s only a game. They’re just
pretendin’.”

“I s’pose so.”

“Don’t you know they are?”

“I wish I could be sure. What’d you say to your cousin, anyway?”

Rebecca paused to extract a pecan from its shell.

“Nothin’,” was her astounding admission. “I meant from the first to
explain the situation to her. That was my idea. But on turnin’ matters
over in my mind I decided that to give away the scheme might spoil the
whole thing. The minute I paraded the plan out into the daylight ’twas
goin’ to make her self-conscious an’ foolish feelin’. So I decided to
keep mum.”

“You mean to say you ain’t breathed a word to her of Peggy an’ Eric?”
Althea gasped.

“Not a syllable. It seemed to me the fewer people we let into the
secret the better. Eleanor warn’t born yesterday. She has eyes in her
head. Furthermore, girls ain’t as innocent now as they were in your day
an’ mine. They’ve common sense enough to look after themselves.”

“Common sense ain’t a commodity that comes much to the fore in love
affairs,” was the dry comment.

“I’ll risk Eleanor,” smiled Rebecca tranquilly. “She ain’t goin’ to
get into any snarl. She’s just havin’ a royal good time.”

“I hope so,” responded Althea with uncertainty. “Sometimes I get
worried an’ most regretful I ever meddled with Peggy an’ Eric. It’s a
solemn thing to take a hand in marriage makin’ an’ try to guide other
folks’ futures. ’Tain’t no subject for humans.”

“I do believe you’re losin’ your nerve, Althea,” accused Miss Crosby,
regarding her companion with amazed countenance.

“I am. I’m perfectly willin’ to admit it. When I saw Eric an’ Eleanor
startin’ off in his car yesterday, an’ glimpsed Peggy’s face as she
spied ’em disappearin’ down the road, a panic swept over me. I said to
myself: ‘Althea Holmes, what have you set a-goin’?’”

“Why shoulder all the blame? You didn’t do the whole of it.”

“I helped.”

“I did the biggest part. ’Twas my idea,” consoled Rebecca.

“Ain’t you some scared?”

“Not a mite,” averred Rebecca serenely.

“You certainly are an uncommon person, ’Becca,” said Althea gazing
with puzzled intensity into the other woman’s face. “How you can start
a ball a-rollin’, an’ then set back an’ watch unmoved when it gets to
whizzin’ faster’n you planned, beats me.”

“I don’t see as it’s whizzin’ much,” was the unruffled retort. “’Course
Eric an’ Eleanor are havin’ a pleasant holiday together. But why
shouldn’t they? Ain’t Peggy an’ her lieutenant doin’ the same?”

“But Eleanor’s walkin’ in the dark. She don’t know nothin’ of the
purpose of her comin’ here.”

“N----o. Still--”

“You’ve talked with him, though, so he understands it’s only actin’,”
Althea said, a sudden ray of comfort lighting her horizon.

Something in the concentrated attention Miss Crosby focused on the
walnut she was cracking caused Althea to put down her bowl of raisins
and exclaim:

“Didn’t you say nothin’ to Eric neither?”

“No, I didn’t,” blurted out Rebecca. “I meant to, honest I did. But the
time never came right. Before I could get him alone an’ talk the matter
over with him, Eleanor’d come an’ things had got to movin’. After that
it didn’t seem of any use.”

“You mean to say both those young critters are just rushin’ along
haphazard without an idea where they’re goin’?” cried Althea in dismay.

“If you choose to put it that way,” her ally confessed with a cool
shrug. “Don’t look so paralyzed with fright, Althea. After all, it’s
nothin’ more’n what’s done every day. Folks’ paths cross an’ recross.
In books they call it destiny.”

“But this ain’t destiny,” objected Mrs. Holmes with horror. “This is
what you an’ me have done by outright schemin’.”

“Likely that was destiny, too. Warn’t we kinder led into it?”

“I was!” It was the first sharp answer she had ever made to Rebecca,
and no sooner were the words out of her mouth than she regretted them.
But Rebecca charitably ignored their tartness and, passing over the
silence that followed them, said in her customary tone:

“We both were.”

Nevertheless, for all this comforting assurance Althea’s conscience was
not to be soothed.

“It’s terrible,” she wailed. “We’ve interfered, mebbe, with the
workin’s of Divine Providence.”

“Law sakes, Althea, don’t go gettin’ so tragic!” interposed her friend,
now evincing impatience. “’Tain’t anythin’. You’re makin’ a mountain
out of a molehill. If Peggy an’ Eric Hollingsworth were mismated ain’t
it better they should find it out before it’s too late?”

“Mismated?” repeated the bewildered Althea.

“Yes, mismated--matched up wrong.”

“But they warn’t,” protested Althea dramatically.

“Then they’ll find that out too,” was the confident reply.




                             CHAPTER XVIII


While these amorous events thus shaped themselves, a surge of tensity
and disquiet began almost imperceptibly to undermine the tranquillity
of the Green Dolphin. The transformation, however, was too subtle a one
to be evident upon the surface. The tea, cakes, and sandwiches were as
delicious as of yore and presented the same appetizing appearance. Nor
did the patronage of the place decrease; on the contrary, if anything
a greater number of guests crowded house and veranda than before.
Mr. Haverford, in the custody of the cautious Sophie and watchful
Clara, had become an habitué, and regardless of his digestion indulged
in every tempting viand the menu afforded. Long ago his daughters,
realizing the futility of attempting to thwart his gastronomic orgies,
had abandoned him to his fate, daily expecting to see him barter away
his life in exchange for a broiled live lobster or a Welsh rarebit.
Up to date, however, no such tragedy had befallen him. The irascible
invalid actually appeared to thrive on cheese dreams and fudge cake,
not only gaining weight on this ambrosial fare but juvenility as
well. And there were other regular visitors who, ferreting out the
system Althea pursued, motored miles on the days fried chicken and
waffles were served, declaring no other spot on the Cape furnished such
faultless cooking.

No, there certainly was no cause for the Holmes to worry lest their
enterprise fail for want of financial support.

Neither did Althea or the faithful Rebecca Crosby slacken in their
devotion to the undertaking. They offered up as painstaking service as
ever, and if their ardor betrayed any signs of abating it was rather
because experience had solved for them their most balking problems,
and routine rendered the excessive effort they had formerly displayed
unnecessary.

Oh, no one could accuse the Dolphin of change. The mutation so
gradually taking place was in the temper of its staff. Althea was
slowly developing an edge of sharpness quite new to her, and even the
constantly serene Rebecca showed symptoms of possessing nerves. As
for Lemmy Gill, he had lapsed into periodic spells of melancholy and
absent-mindedness that totally unfitted him for any work.

Hence of the charter members of the Dolphin’s retinue, Asaph Holmes
alone remained normal, and even his tranquillity was little by little
being sapped away by the odd behavior of his associates.

“What in the name of goodness has got everybody?” he one day demanded
of Lemuel, dragging his comrade into the seclusion of the vine-covered
arbor that flanked the garden. “It’s gettin’ to be like a funeral round
here--or a volcano.”

“You couldn’t ’xactly say the two were off the same piece,” grinned the
Captain.

Asaph, however, was too deeply in earnest to be deterred by jest.

“Ain’t you noticed nothin’?” persisted he.

Lemmy pursed his lips as if to consider the matter.

“U----m. If you mean Althea I’ll own she’s waxin’ a mite tart,” he
admitted. “Only the other day I asked her was she sick or only spleeny
from spreadin’ so many sandwiches, an’ she well-nigh took the head off
my shoulders. She’s tired and putchicky, I reckon.”

“But Rebecca?”

“Miss Crosby?” The little man glared down at his boots. “Damn those
shoe lacin’s!” he abruptly exclaimed. “If I’ve tied ’em once today I’ve
tied ’em a hundred times. They must be greased or somethin’. They undo
quick’s I fasten ’em. Did you ever have shoe strings that slipped?
That’s what these do--they slip--slip like the devil!”

Waiting until Lemuel had snapped the offending laces into a tight knot
Asaph innocently repeated his question:

“But what’s come over Rebecca?”

Seeming not to hear the query Lemmy wandered off to the adjacent grass,
from which he selected a long spray and began chewing it.

“Ears goin’ back on you, Lemuel?”

“Eh? Oh, you were askin’ me somethin’, warn’t you? What was it?”

“I was talkin’ of ’Becca.”

“So you was. Rebecca. Miss Rebecca Crosby. To be sure. You were
speakin’ about her, warn’t you?” The Captain’s gaze was centered upon
the sweep of distant sea.

“I maintain she ain’t the same, either,” continued Asaph. “Somethin’
strange has got her, though what it is I can’t for the life of me make
out.”

“Likely she’s just wore out, same’s Althea. They say women haven’t much
endurance.”

“But I don’t recall Althea ever mindin’ work before.”

“It’s all this cussed Dolphin!” Lemuel burst out with sudden vehemence.
“What we’re runnin’ it for beats me. Althea’s boasted from the outset
she didn’t want the money. ’Twas her idea merely to get fun out of
it--see folks an’ listen to their gossip. But fur’s I can make out she
ain’t enjoyed it much.”

“I’m afraid she ain’t lately,” admitted Asaph, with a perplexed frown.

“’Twas a fool scheme anyhow,” blustered Captain Gill. “I’ve no opinion
of all this tea drinkin’. Stuffin’ folks up between meals so’st they’ve
no hankerin’ for their supper--folks that have plenty to eat at home,
too! It warn’t worth workin’ Althea an’ ’Becca to the bone for.”

Not wishing to cast fuel on the flames Asaph prudently held his tongue.

“I never did like dolphins either,” Lemmy grumbled on. “Didn’t I tell
you long ago they always brought bad luck?”

“But we ain’t had any bad luck,” was the mild demurrer.

“Mebbe not yet; but we ain’t through,” retorted the Captain with
sinister emphasis. “What are you goin’ to say of Peggy Davidson an’ the
Doctor? You certainly can’t call the breakin’ up of that match ’xactly
a pleasant happenin’.”

“But you surely can’t lay that at the Dolphin’s door!”

“How do you know I can’t?” blustered Lemmy. “How do you know that ain’t
precisely where the blame belongs? Are you able to prove the varmint
had no hand in it?”

“Dolphins don’t have hands.”

For the space of a second Lemuel Gill appeared nonplussed.

“No matter if they don’t,” he growled. “This particular Dolphin had his
part in stirrin’ up trouble--you can bank on that.”

“Mebbe he did, Lemuel--mebbe he did,” his companion hastened to affirm.
“P’raps he did sorter cast an evil eye round an’ start the fuss. An’
yet if Peggy an’ her lieutenant, an’ Eric an’ the Parker girl are
satisfied, I don’t see’s there’s call for us to worry.”

“But they ain’t satisfied--I’m moral certain they ain’t,” announced the
little man with a sage shake of his head.

“Heavens, Lemmy! How’d you come to be such an authority on love
affairs?” questioned Asaph, making a jocose attempt to divert the
discussion into less irritating channels.

“I ain’t an authority,” flushed Lemmy. “I wish to mercy I was.”

“What!”

“I mean,” amended the Captain with flurried haste, “that if I knew more
of women I might be wiser at straightenin’ out the mess we’re in. But
how’s a human bein’ goin’ to fathom ’em?” Moodily he dug his heel into
the turf. “Take Rebecca Crosby for example-- One minute she’s kindness
itself, admirin’ my flowers; savin’ cakes for me; advisin’ about next
season’s plantin’. Then when I go to bein’ friendly an’ bring her a
bunch of roses--ones that kinder needed clippin’ off--she turns her
shoulder plumb upon me an’ goes shootin’ off into the house as if
I’d offered her a rattlesnake. How’s that for Christian conduct? I’m
blessed if I can solve her--blowin’ first hot an’ then cold, an’ all in
the same breath.”

“I never saw ’Becca behave like that.”

“Mebbe you think she don’t. Mebbe you fancy I’m imaginin’ it,” Lemuel
said in an aggrieved tone. “But just you watch her some day. Keep an
eye on her when I’m by. Then you’ll see how she smiles one minute an’
the next tosses her head like a pert schoolgirl an’ whiffles out of
sight.”

“You ’pear to have made quite a study of Rebecca, Lemuel,” jested Asaph.

“Study? Lord, no! Why should I spend time thinkin’ of her? It’s only
that bein’ right here under my nose an’ I can’t help noticin’ her
goin’s on.”

“You don’t have to bring her roses,” objected Asaph mildly.

“If there don’t go that blasted shoe string again!” cried Lemuel,
bending once more to adjust the dangling lacing and continuing his
conversation with averted head. “N--o. No, I grant I don’t have to do
that. Still, the bushes need prunin’ an’ it seems sorter a pity to toss
the blooms on the rubbish heap. Givin’ ’em to Miss Crosby is a good way
to use ’em up.”

Asaph ruminated.

“Ain’t all this prunin’ somethin’ new?” he asked. “I don’t recall your
ever thinnin’ down your bushes at such a rate before.”

Lemuel straightened up and smiled pleasantly.

“It is kinder a new notion,” admitted he suavely. “In fact it’s an
experiment. Mebbe I never shall try it again. It’ll depend on how it
works out.”

“It oughter benefit the plants,” asserted the literal-minded Asaph.
“Books say it will. I’ll be interested to see what comes of it.”

“So shall I.” Smiling to himself Lemmy began to hum a little tune.

For an interval neither man spoke. Then Asaph presently continued:

“Puttin’ Rebecca aside, what of Peggy Davidson? You say you ain’t
comfortable in your mind about her.”

“I ain’t. I can’t for the life of me help feelin’ that navy feller
ain’t the one for her to marry; an’ what’s more I suspect both Althea
an’ Rebecca feel same’s I do about it.”

“Althea ain’t never breathed any such word to me.”

“Mebbe not. Mebbe she wouldn’t think she’d oughter express an opinion
concernin’ Peggy’s affairs. She might rate ’em as none of her business.
I know she holds marriages to be terrible solemn, an’ don’t approve of
ordinary mortals meddlin’ with ’em. She told me so once herself.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t ketch Althea meddlin’ with matrimonial doin’s,”
agreed Asaph. “She believes matin’ folks is the Lord’s lookout.
Still, her convictions wouldn’t prevent her bein’ distressed if she
saw a match goin’ awry.” He paused to twine a slender tendril of the
grapevine round an adjacent wire. “What makes you think she an’ ’Becca
are bothered about Peggy?”

“I dunno. I ain’t really got no reason. I just sorter feel it in my
bones. Now an’ then I’ve caught Althea eyin’ Eric an’ the Parker
girl almost as if she somehow held herself to blame for their bein’
together.”

“Nonsense! Why, she’s pleased to death they’re so happy.”

The argument did not appear to convince Lemuel. However, he did not
pursue the subject, but occupied himself for a time by cramming fresh
tobacco into his pipe. Then at last when the smoke began to ascend
skyward in a thin blue spiral, he inquired in a musing voice:

“Do you subscribe to your wife’s notion that marriages are made in
heaven, Asaph?”

Asaph deliberated.

“Wall, as to that I ain’t fully prepared to say,” returned he with
judicial caution. “’Course I believe the Lord throws folks in other
folks’ way.”

“But after gettin’ ’m there?”

His crony rocked back and forth on his heels.

“That’s where the rub comes. I’d hardly be ready to state He then left
’em there high an’ dry--kinder washed His hands of ’em,” philosophized
he. “Still, you couldn’t actually expect Him to do more, could you?
’Tain’t ever His policy to put through the whole of a job. He always
shifts some part of it off onto us. For example He leaves us to save
our own souls. He don’t land us in the Kingdom of Heaven without we
make some effort of our own to get there. An’ I call that square
dealin’, too.”

“Then as you figger it, Peggy, Eric, that Lieutenant Shattuck, Eleanor
Parker, an’ Rebecca Crosby were all of ’em kinder coaxed to Belleport
a-purpose,” Lemuel said, with an earnestness he seldom displayed.

“What you includin’ Rebecca for? She’s got nothin’ to do with marriage.”

“No,” squeaked Lemmy. “No, of course not. She’s got nothin’ in the
world to do with it. I only mentioned her ’cause she happened to be
here.”

“True enough! So she does. Likely, too, the Lord had an aim in sendin’
her hither. When I see what a place she’s made for herself here at the
Dolphin I can well believe it. She an’ Althea are like sisters. Even I
feel towards ’Becca as if she was my own flesh an’ blood. ’Twill be a
sad day for us when she leaves town.”

“Leaves town!”

“Why, yes. Much as I hate to think of it, I s’pose she will have to go
when the season’s over. There won’t be any cause for her to stay on
after the tea-shop closes. The Dolphin will be shuttin’ its doors by
October.”

“But--but--” Helplessly Lemuel halted.

“Not but what we’d admire to keep ’Becca with us an’ give her a home
through the winter,” Asaph went on. “But she has her livin’ to earn
an’ I s’pose must go where folks can pay her. We couldn’t afford to do
that. Already Althea’s suggested her remainin’ an’ she’s refused.”

“When did you say the Dolphin would be closin’ up?”

“By the middle of October, at the latest.”

Lemuel began to count in absent fashion on his fingers.

“What you doin’?” demanded Asaph, watching him curiously.

“I? Doin’?” He started. “I--I--dunno. I was just kinder--”

“I’ll bet I know,” came in triumph from his comrade. “You were
figgerin’ how many weeks it would be before the green china would be in
dry dock an’ we’d be free to work in our gardens. Now warn’t you?”

But to the prophet’s astonishment the suggestion failed to produce a
jubilant echo in his brother horticulturist. Instead, Lemmy looked
gravely before him out over the water.

“I ain’t minded the tea drinkin’ a mite; nor the green china neither,”
said he. “In fact, I’ve enjoyed ’em.”

Having delivered himself of this astounding intelligence, he turned
abruptly on his heel and without another word walked moodily off in the
direction of his own domicile.




                              CHAPTER XIX


It was an alluring spot, the little lane through which his path took
him. Hedged in between sweet fern and bayberry, and tangles of wild
grape that climbed the stunted oaks until their faint pink tips
levelled one’s head, it was a place to bewitch the eye and charm the
imagination. Across its shade danced fantastic splashes of sunlight,
and far at the end of its green-arched vista lay the sea, brilliant as
sapphire and shimmering with gold.

Whenever Lemuel traversed this dim, silent path the spell of its
loveliness smoothed every wrinkle from his brow and brought to his
heart a sense of companionship and peace. But today, although his
feet lagged along the shadowy expanse, the tranquillity he sought
eluded him. Instead, out of a turmoil of misery that seethed like a
tempestuous sea, there crystallized the realization that his whole
future was futile and hopeless.

What had he to live for? A few roses; a stalk or two of delphinium; a
blaze of dahlias--fair weather comrades who deserted when blue skies
and sunshine gave way to the chill of winter. That was all raising
flowers amounted to.

To be sure, he had Asaph Holmes. But even Asaph’s friendship, stanch
as it was, was not what it had been in the halcyon days before his
marriage. Not but that he was every inch as loyal. Indeed, whenever
occasion presented he took particular pains to exaggerate the
unalterableness of his affection. Nevertheless, for all his bravado he
was different. Marriage was bound to transform a man. The very fact of
a wife’s presence restricted the old-time freedom.

Lemuel had not been blind to his crony’s frenzied diplomacy, or the
attempts he made to cajole, translate, smooth, and keep the peace. To
be sure, he and Althea, by mutual forbearance, had succeeded in getting
on surprisingly well together. He would not have dreamed he could come
to regard her with such a measure of esteem. Nevertheless, he was
perfectly aware he was not her sort.

Was he anybody’s sort, he speculated. An indulgent world overlooked
his faults and even good-humoredly applauded his virtues in a careless
sort of way. But did anyone really entertain for him more than a
surface regard? Did Eric Hollingsworth rate him as worthwhile? Did
Peggy Davidson? Or, to narrow the interrogation down to a very specific
point, did Rebecca Crosby?

Ah, that was the all-important question. To deny it and beat about the
bush was useless. Rebecca was the one individual out of the entire
universe who mattered. The others, worthy and delightful as they were,
were mere flotsam and jetsam on the tide of humanity. Peggy Davidson
was uncontestably a gem of her sex; but Rebecca! There was a woman for
you! Beside her the fascinations and virtues of every other female
paled into nothingness.

What a tower of strength she was! How versatile and many sided! Why,
she was resourceful as a magician and yet withal so simple, modest, and
human. How could she have escaped being arrogant and self-esteeming
when everything she turned her hand to was done so well? Her cooking
now--it couldn’t be surpassed; you could tell with your eyes shut
just which dishes were of her concocting. She never over-salted or
under-sweetened; never used too much pepper or too little butter.
And her darning! It looked better than the cloth itself. As for her
buttons, they seemed to be held in place by a superhuman power, so firm
and immovable were they.

Then she was such a cheery person--always with something sparkling at
the tip of her tongue. She was never at a loss for words, as he was.
Strange how stupid he had become of late. He used to be quite a wit--at
least Zeke Barker and the men down on the shore seemed to consider him
so. But, alas, whatever brilliancy he had once boasted had vanished,
leaving him tongue-tied and abashed as a gawky schoolboy.

Rebecca Crosby must consider him a clumsy hulk of a man. Indeed, it
was evident she did by the fashion in which she avoided him. He could
see her now whisking into the house or out into the garden every time
he put in his appearance. What a figure she had! Trim and neat as a
girl’s. And how up-and-coming she held her head!

Then there was her love for flowers. Didn’t it beat all how she
understood their ways and liked the very kinds he was most partial to?

And her disposition! She was never ruffled or flurried, never impatient
or on edge, like Althea.

And to cap these many virtues she could see a joke!

Oh, she was a rare woman truly--one out of a hundred, a thousand, a
million; in fact she was the only absolutely perfect being on the globe.

He could, he confessed, do with less of Brother Thomas. But was not
that, perhaps, because he was peeved that another man should hold in
Rebecca’s affections a position of such paramount importance? Who
could help being jealous of a smug ghost that so proudly flaunted
his supremacy in one’s face? And yet during his lifetime Brother
Thomas, despite the halo that now encircled his head, had undoubtedly
been a faulty bit of clay like everybody else. Affection certainly
minimized flaws and magnified virtues; so did absence--there could
be no question about that. Deeply as he respected Rebecca’s sisterly
devotion, he could not but wish she would let the dead past bury its
dead, banish the shade to the background of her thoughts, and put her
mind on the present, or rather on the future, for after all the present
was well enough as it was.

Although she scoffed at him, avoided him, tossed her head and laughed
at him over her shoulder, he at least had the morbid satisfaction of
seeing her do it. That was something. Tantalizing as it was, it was
better than the future Asaph Holmes so vividly pictured--the time when
she would be far away and the sun descend from its heaven into an abyss
of blackness--that was a day that would mark the end of the world so
far as he was concerned. What was to become of him then?

What would be the use of dwelling longer upon such an empty and
purposeless planet? How futile it would be to go on living, moving, and
raising flowers! Why, there would be nobody to enjoy them; nobody to
hold them up, caress their curling petals, sniff their perfume, touch
them with gentle fingers. In fact, flowers would no longer thrive if
Rebecca left Belleport, for there would be no more sunshine.

He had just reached this dismal conclusion and sunk unresistingly into
the Slough of Despond, when, behold, down the vista of the fairy lane
came Rebecca herself! In a limp white gown that clung to her figure,
and a violet scarf that floated out against the green of the landscape,
she seemed an apparition of his own conjuring, a phantom beautiful and
unreal. Breathlessly he watched, fearful lest the vision perish. Airily
she moved along, a veritable dryad of the woodland. Then of a sudden
she spied him, faltered, started to turn back, thought better of it,
and resolutely came on.

“What a day!” called she in her full, clear voice.

“It is fine weather.”

“And the lane--I never saw it lovelier.”

With desperate determination Lemmy pulled himself together.

“A regular lovers’ lane, ain’t it?” quavered he.

“‘Hamlet’ with Hamlet left out, I’m afraid,” fluted Miss Crosby.
“However, it is just as pretty for all that. Youth is wonderful,
though, isn’t it?”

“Bein’ young is in the feelin’s,” replied the Captain gallantly.

“So they say. And yet when rheumatism cricks my fingers I know better.”

So grave was her smile and so positive the assertion, Lemuel decided to
abandon that tack and try another.

“Age ain’t so bad,” he ventured. “Folks come to a time when they’re
full as willin’ to settle down.”

“I don’t mean ever to settle down,” was the disconcerting response.

“But--”

“What is the use of becomin’ stodgy an’ old until you have to?”
continued Rebecca with spirit.

“There ain’t none. I didn’t mean that. What I was intendin’ to say was
folks reach an age when it seems good to ’em to set an’--an’--let the
world go by.” Inspired by a memory from his tangled past he seized
avidly upon the words.

“I sha’n’t sit an’ let the world go by--not till I have to,” Rebecca
announced. “I mean to enjoy life till I collapse into my grave. Brother
Thomas used often to declare that was the way to do. Why, on the very
mornin’ of the day he died he was out puttin’ in onion sets.”

Feeling that some expression of sympathy should be forthcoming, Lemuel
leaped frantically into the breach.

“I never was partial to onions,” he murmured.

“Thomas’s death had nothin’ to do with the onions,” Miss Crosby said
with dignity.

“No, likely not--no, indeed! Nevertheless you must always sorter
associate him with ’em.” Then catching a glimpse of his lady’s
stiffening countenance he hurriedly added: “I mean they must always
kinder remind you of him.”

“I associate my Brother Thomas with far more beautiful things,” was the
icy retort.

“Yes, of course!” Lemuel wretchedly agreed. He took a wild, quick
breath and an onlooker might have seen his figure straighten as if for
a plunge.

“He certainly had the most beautiful thing in the world handy by him,”
gasped he.

Rebecca turned and as he met her puzzled gaze he crumpled weakly.
Still, clinging tenaciously to his purpose he floundered on:

“I mean bein’ brother to you he--you--you were his--his sister.”

“I should hope so.” Rebecca’s laughter echoed down the lane like a
chime of bells.

The Captain mopped his brow.

“Oh, damn it!” he burst out. “What I want to say is--wall, you must
have some notion. Ain’t you got no inklin’ at all?”

With averted head he moodily scanned the turf, fearing to confront the
eyes of the coy Rebecca.

Silence greeted his query.

Ah, she was, perhaps, as shy as he. The possibility reënforced his
waning courage and prompted him to look up. He even took a bold step
forward, but the next minute recoiled, aghast.

The lady of his heart was nowhere to be seen. She had vanished!

“Now I’ve made a nice variety of ass of myself,” soliloquized the
dejected lover, dismally kicking the grass. “I was fool enough before.
But after this she’ll rate me a jibberin’ idiot. ’Twas Brother Thomas
did it. I got launched an’ away all right an’ could, mebbe, have
breasted the current but for him. A plague on him an’ his onions!”




                               CHAPTER XX


As in utter dejection Lemuel slunk gloomily homeward, it pleased
his fancy to seek out the solitude of a dim grove of pines that lay
secluded from the highway. It was just the spot for a man whose
fortunes were at a low ebb to rail against Fate and curse himself in,
and hungering to indulge in this consoling and diverting pastime he
hastened eagerly hither.

He had not, however, more than planted foot within the confines of this
haven before, to his mingled chagrin and amazement, he espied Peggy
Davidson lying face down on the pine-matted ground sobbing as if her
heart would break.

“For goodness’ sake, Miss Peggy,” he cried, rushing to her side,
“what’s the matter? You ain’t hurt, are you?”

She lifted to him a tear-stained countenance.

“Only my feelings,” answered she wanly.

“But what’s the trouble? Why, I never saw you cry before in all my
life.”

“People have been known to cry for their sins,” she said, making a
brave attempt at lightness.

“But that ain’t what you’re cryin’ for.”

“Yes, I am--in a way.” Then the next instant, as if conscious that the
artificiality of the reply was an insult to the genuineness of Lemmy’s
sympathy, she added in a confidential outburst: “I’m crying because
I’ve been such a fool. Did you ever do anything silly and then repent
it in sackcloth and ashes?”

“Bless your heart, yes! Were I to sum up the times I’ve been a fool
’twould take me till sundown. I’ve been one this very mornin’.” He
loitered, scanning her distress with affectionate solicitude. “Do you
want I should set down; or would you rather I mogged along an’ left you
to yourself?”

“Please stay. I shall die if I don’t talk to somebody.” She motioned to
the carpet of bronze beside her. “I believe you’re the only person in
the world I could tell it all to.”

There was a quality appealingly childish in the words. Nevertheless,
despite her evident wish to unburden the griefs that oppressed her,
the foreshadowed confession was so long in coming that at length Lemmy
himself broke the silence:

“It’s about Eric, ain’t it?” began he, encouragingly.

“How did you know?”

“I just gave a guess, thinkin’ mebbe it might be. I’ve been kinder
upset about him, too.”

“Really!”

“Yes,” nodded Lemuel impressively, “I’ve been considerable concerned
about him--considerable concerned. It’s sorter seemed to me things
warn’t goin’ ’xactly as they’d oughter. That Shattuck chap, glistenin’
as his buttons are, ain’t no feller for you to marry.”

“I know it.”

“You do? Wal’, wal’! I’m thankful to hear you say so. It takes a load
off my mind.” He patted her hand with satisfaction. “So you’ve actually
come to that conclusion, have you?”

Peggy bowed her head.

“I decided so yesterday,” she responded, following with thoughtful eyes
the flicker of the shadows spangling the pine-strewn earth. “He went
away this morning.”

“He’s gone already?”

“Yes.”

“My land! An’ now you’re cryin’? You ain’t sorry so quick, I hope.”

“I’m not sorry at all.”

It was plain from the long breath Lemmy drew he was relieved.

“U----m! Then that’s done an’ over with!” announced he jubilantly.

Nevertheless, notwithstanding his approval of this initial step toward
the unravelling of Peggy’s difficulties, he halted, aware that those to
follow were not so simple.

“An’ now what happens?” he questioned cautiously.

“Nothing.”

“Nothin’! But bless my soul! Surely you don’t mean that. If nothin’ was
to happen afterwards what was the use of packin’ young Shattuck off bag
an’ baggage?”

“He bothered me--stirred me up. I couldn’t think when he was at my
elbow.”

“Oh, that was it, eh? Then his goin’ had nothin’ to do with Doctor
Hollingsworth after all.” The Captain could not conceal his
disappointment.

“Eric Hollingsworth?” He saw her flush. “Why should it? Eric and I are
just old friends. Besides, he’s all taken up with that Miss Parker. He
is with her every minute of the day. Not that I care,” she continued,
drawing in her chin. “He has a perfect right to trail round with
anybody he pleases. She’s an awfully nice girl and I don’t blame him an
atom. Only--”

“I don’t ’xactly see how you could,” drawled Lemuel. “You left him
kinder high an’ dry, you see. Naturally he had to take up with
somebody.”

“I suppose in a man’s estimation one girl is as good as another,” cut
in Peggy, for the first time displaying irritation.

The thrust, however, failed to penetrate Lemuel Gill’s good humor.

“No,” contradicted he in the same slow, placid tone, “generally
speakin’ men have their preferences same’s women. Still, when a girl’s
comely as Eleanor Parker is sorter lyin’ round loose a man would be
next to a numskull not to anchor to her--particularly after you’d
showed him you warn’t interested in him.”

“But I am!” came instantly from Peggy.

“Mebbe--after a fashion. Nevertheless, you don’t set any ’special store
by him.”

“Yes, I do!”

“Oh! Wal’, wal’! That changes matters, don’t it? Makes ’em awkward.
Pity Eric warn’t made aware of the fact before, ’cause now with you
carin’ for him at such a rate an’ he apparently carin’ for this Parker
girl--”

He heard a stifled sob.

“I--I--told you I’d been--been a fool.”

Lemuel covered the slim white hand with one of his brown ones.

“There, there, I wouldn’t cry about it if I was you,” said he. “Cryin’
ain’t goin’ to mend nothin’. You’d much better put a brave face on it an’
keep a stiff upper lip. Why, if I was to cry because of the way Rebecca
Crosby turns up her nose at me I’d be drowned in brine.”

“Rebecca Crosby!” Peggy, startled out of her own misfortunes by the
remark, stared at him.

“I s’pose you think ’cause I’m three times your age I’ve no feelin’s,”
continued Lemmy, with wounded dignity.

“You know I don’t,” was the indignant protest. “Nobody in the world has
a bigger heart than you. But you see I never--why, the idea of your
falling in love never crossed my mind.”

“Nor mine either,” confessed the swain with frankness. “Yet had I
considered the possibility fore an’ aft for the last twenty years
an’ mapped out precisely what I’d do if I ever found myself in such
a predicament, ’twouldn’t ’a’ had much weight when it come to the
scratch. Fallin’ in love ain’t one of the things you set out to do,
same’s you plan to go a-fishin’. It’s more like walkin’ blindfolded
into a puddle of water--first you know of the puddle you’re in it.”

In spite of herself Peggy laughed.

“Carin’ for folks makes you terrible wretched,” commented Lemmy after a
long, dreamy silence.

“Doesn’t it! Why, I lay awake nights and--”

“I don’t,” cut in the Captain. “I ain’t got that far--at least not
yet. Much as I love Rebecca, I sleep every night like a top. I find
there’s plenty of time durin’ the day to keep her in mind an’ get
fussed up. Evenin’s, too, when I don’t need to weed an’ it gets too
dark for pickin’ off dead blossoms or cultivatin’, I fall to thinkin’
of her. It’s lonely over to the shack after dusk. So as I set there
with nothin’ to do but shoo off the mosquitoes I get to considerin’
how senseless ’tis she should be goin’ through the world alone an’
I committin’ a similar foolishness, when we could just as well be
spliced together an’ cheerin’ one another up. We could live cosy as two
squirrels at my place. She likes flowers an’ is a prime cook. An’ then
over across the way there’d be Althea for her to visit with.”

“So there would!” exclaimed Peggy with enthusiasm. “Why, it would be
ideal. Have you suggested it to ’Becca?”

“Kinder faintly. But she didn’t seem to swaller the bait. While I was
skirmishin’ round gettin’ het up to present the notion so it would
sound temptin’ she melted away somewheres. So you see you’re the only
person I’ve actually discussed the scheme with. I’d give my eye teeth,
though, to know what Asaph’s opinion would be of such a match.”

“Suppose I ask him.”

“Oh, no--no! Don’t do that on any account. Like as not he’d be all
riled up thinkin’, prob’ly, my marryin’ would interfere with our flower
raisin’. I wouldn’t want his feelin’s hurt. No! Better leave things as
they are for the present, I reckon. Mebbe I won’t go no farther with
the idea, anyhow.”

“But it would be such a wonderful--such a suitable marriage,” the girl
persisted. “Here’s Rebecca with no home and practically no relatives;
and she loves the Cape. She would transform your wee house into--”

“Don’t I know it? You don’t have to remind me of that. Ain’t I pictured
it to myself a dozen times? Meanwhile I could look out for her an’ make
her feel somebody cared about her. I’ve a bit of money tucked away in
the bank, an’ though, to be sure, it ain’t as much as it would ’a’ been
hadn’t I gone buyin’ bulbs an’ perennials with it, with plannin’ it
could be stretched to cover the wants of two people well’s one.”

“Do let me see what I can do.”

But once more the Captain became panic-stricken.

“No, no!” implored he. “I couldn’t let you stir a peg, kind as you are
to propose it. But to prove I ain’t without appreciation, Miss Peggy,
s’pose I have a word with Eric Hollingsworth an’ see if I can’t switch
him off the Parker girl. Mebbe if he was to know you--”

“Oh, please don’t! Promise me you won’t breathe a syllable of what I’ve
told you,” cried Peggy, displaying in turn a terror violent as his own.

“You don’t want I should?”

“No, indeed. It would be dreadful. I should go through the floor.”

“There, there, dear child. Don’t look so frightened. I won’t even
whisper it unless you want me to. I only thought mebbe if I--”

“I know, and it was dear of you, Captain Gill. But I couldn’t--”

“Wal’, that’s all right. You know your own business best.” He gave her
hand a reassuring squeeze.

It was just at this juncture that the sound of a snapping twig caused
the condoning lovers to glance up.

Standing in a little patch of sunlight regarding them with bewilderment
and incredulity they beheld Rebecca Crosby.

Whether she had sought out the same refuge as the others in which
to berate herself for some action she regretted; whether she was
melancholy, lonely, or as out of sorts with life as they, who can say?
There at least she stood eying them with an astonishment so profound it
held her transfixed as a statue.

The surprise of Lemuel and Peggy equalled if not outdid her own and for
an instant the trio remained speechless.

Peggy was the first to assemble her scattered wits.

“Oh, Miss Rebecca,” cried she, springing to her feet and seizing
the golden moment before it should be too late, “you are the very
person we were talking about. Captain Gill has something to say to
you--something tremendously important. Do let him tell you what it is.”

Then, flashing Rebecca a smile and patting Lemmy encouragingly on the
shoulder, the girl took flight down the wooded path and was out of
sight before either the agitated Lemuel or the dismayed Rebecca could
stay her steps.




                              CHAPTER XXI


All thought of her own troubles temporarily banished by her interest
in the romance of Lemuel Gill, Peggy with light step retraced her way
through the pines until she reached the lane leading from Lemmy’s shack
to the Holmes’s. She had not been to the Dolphin for several days lest
she encounter Eric there. But now, swept out of herself, Eric did not
seem to matter. She was too happy to give him a thought.

Who would have dreamed of dear, artless little Lemmy being mixed up in
a love affair! Certainly Cupid was no respecter of persons--or ages,
either. With all her soul she prayed his cause might prosper. She could
not imagine a woman denying so appealing and lovable a suitor. Only the
stony-hearted could resist him and Rebecca was far from being that.

How fitting the marriage would be, and what a home ’Becca would make
for poor, incompetent Lemmy, who, since Asaph’s desertion, had put up
such a brave fight against loneliness! Already in imagination she could
picture the new mistress ensconced in the wee house; see her moving
cheerily about the garden; hear Lemuel call to her to come and inspect
his budding roses, and catch echoes of Rebecca’s delight at their
unfurling bloom. The pair would be like another Darby and Joan. And
close at hand would be Asaph and Althea. Why, the match was heaven-made!

Buoyed up by the joy of it Peggy felt gayer than she had in weeks, and
with swift resolution decided to run in while yet the mood possessed
her and make a morning call at the Dolphin, such a call as she had been
accustomed to making before misery and misunderstanding had clouded
her sky. With this end in view she moved merrily down the lane and
unobserved entered the Holmes’s garden.

Drowsy in the sunshine the place was fragrant with honeysuckle, roses,
and the scent of blossoming grapevine. Only the music of the surf, the
humming of bees, and the whisper of the breeze that stirred the crowns
of the surrounding pines disturbed its stillness. For a moment the girl
stood motionless, letting the balm of its beauty seep with healing into
her soul. After all God was in His heaven and all must be right with
the world. She reproached herself that she had ever doubted it.

For an instant she lingered on these Elysian heights, then crashed to
earth and recoiled, breathless.

Invading her Eden she saw two figures. One was Eleanor Parker’s and
the other that of a man whose arm was stealing tenderly about her.

There was no need for her to see more nor, indeed, had she the desire
to do so. Creeping miserably away she moved off toward the shore.

Ah, what a sorry tangle she had made of life! With happiness well
within reach she had capriciously tossed it aside until it had slipped
too far beyond her grasp for her to recover it. Vanity had beckoned
and she now reaped its harvest. Well, she had no one to blame for the
tragedy but herself. Nevertheless that fact did not make it easier to
view as an idle spectator the joy that might have been hers.

To surrender the man she loved to another woman! Her unselfishness
was put to a terrible test. Could she forget herself and think only
of him? That was the question. If she really cared she must desire he
should have every blessing. She did desire it. Her task would now be to
show him how genuine was this wish--show him with such self-effacing
devotion that neither he nor anyone else should suspect her secret or
the price of her sacrifice. Pride would help her to play out the game
in true sporting spirit.

Occupied with these thoughts she sped on, seeking a curve of the beach
that made up into a meandering little creek that was a favorite haunt
of hers. The breeze sweeping the sea brought with it the refreshing
tang of measureless miles of ocean and, calmed by its breath, she at
length sat down on the solitary beach and watched the tide steal higher
and higher up the reach of sand.

The stillness of the place and the dull, monotonous rumble of the surf
soothed her and gave her courage. Already she felt strengthened for the
coming ordeal.

Then she became conscious of a presence beside her and turning saw Eric
Hollingsworth.

His appearance was so unexpected that she could not make it real, and
she gave a low, nervous cry of fear.

Had she not left him in the Holmes’s garden?

Evidently the sight of her caused him a corresponding shock, for it was
the last place in the world he expected to encounter anybody--much less
Peggy.

With wordless wonder the two regarded one another. Then Eric dropped to
the ground and whispered her name.

“Peggy!”

A power miraculous must have been in the word, some potent charm that
breathed love rather than voiced it, for with the utterance jealousies
and misunderstandings vanished and eye spoke to eye, heart to heart.
What further need was there of speech?

“But--but--Eleanor?” the girl stammered at last.

“Eleanor?”

“Yes. Miss Parker. I thought--wasn’t it you in the garden just now?”

“I!”

“There was somebody with her--a man. I thought it was you.”

“I haven’t been near the Holmes’s today.”

“I certainly thought--it looked like you. But of course I must have
been mistaken. I begin to think the entire day a dream.”

“This is no dream, sweetheart. It is the last few weeks that have been
the hideous unreality.”

“Oh, I’ve been so wretched, Eric--so wretched and so silly!”

“And I, too, Peggy!” He held her closer.

“I thought you--”

“And I was sure that you--”

They laughed into one another’s faces.

“Isn’t it wonderful!” Peggy cried.

“It’s like magic! Why, only half an hour ago I had resolved to leave
Belleport tomorrow.”

“Go home!”

“Yes. What use was it for me to stay if you preferred Shattuck?”

“But I didn’t!” dimpled Peggy.

“How was I to know that, pray?”

“You didn’t seem to care much,” pouted his lady. “You were so taken up
with Eleanor Parker--”

“Taken up with her! Dear child, do you realize she is already engaged
to a chap in Springfield? She confided the secret to me at the outset.”

“O----h!” Then, as if an inspiration had come, Peggy cried: “Do you
suppose it could have been he I saw in the Holmes’s garden?”

“Perhaps,” answered Eric carelessly. “She said she was expecting him
down here sometime soon. I hope he’s a good sort, for she is a corking
fine girl and worthy of the best.”

“She isn’t going to have the best for all that,” laughed Peggy as they
rose from the sands.

For a long, delicious interval, forgetful of all else, they stood at
the water’s edge. Then the girl said:

“We must go back, dear.”

“I suppose so--sometime. But don’t let’s go yet.”

“We must,” Peggy repeated.

Yet for all that they did not stir.

“Come, Eric--please!”

“W--e--ll. But where shall we go? Whom shall we break the news to
first? What do you say we hunt up Lemmy Gill and give him the surprise
of his life?”

“He’s not at home. He and Rebecca Crosby--” she clapped her hand over
her mouth.

“Peggy! You don’t mean to say that they--By Jove! Why, I never
suspected such a thing! Think of Lemmy the hero of a romance!”

“I only hope the affair will turn out right,” Peggy declared earnestly.
“He is such a dear!”

“I hope so with all my heart. Well, if Lemuel has gone a-courting let
us find the Holmeses. It is almost their due to be the first to hear
the tidings, anyway.”

“So it is!”

Nevertheless, in spite of this resolution there proved to be many
additional rites that had to be gone through with before the lovers
left the sea’s margin. There were more explanations, tears, kisses.
Higher and higher the sun rose into the blue; brighter and brighter
flashed the water.

“Why, it must be near noon,” gasped Peggy at last. “Where has the
morning gone?”

Of the flight of its jewelled hours only the sandpipers, the quietly
advancing tide, and the zephyrs that stirred the bronzed marsh grass
could tell.




                              CHAPTER XXII


In the meantime as the day wore on and Lemuel Gill failed to make his
customary appearance at the Dolphin, Althea continually raised her eyes
from the cakes she was frosting to glance down the lane in search of
his familiar figure.

“Where’s Lemmy, Asaph?” she at length inquired. “He’s most always here
by now. You don’t s’pose he’s sick, do you?”

“He warn’t when I saw him early.”

“But he generally comes long before this.”

Her husband, who was transferring trays of cups and saucers from the
pantry to the veranda, did not answer immediately and when he did an
unusual note in his voice arrested his wife’s attention.

“Mebbe he’s gettin’ tired of totin’ tea day after day.”

“Are you gettin’ tired of it?”

“No more’n the rest are, I reckon.” He set down the china with a
resounding clatter.

“The rest?” repeated Althea vaguely.

“Yes--Rebecca, Eric, Peggy--the whole lot of ’em. Even the Parker
girl don’t seem to be so keen on tendin’ up as when she first come,
an’ has gone flyin’ off with this young feller who’s just put in his
appearance. Nobody acts same’s they did at the outset. Looks to me as
if tea was losin’ its charm. Rebecca now, where’s she this mornin’? I
ain’t laid eyes on her for an hour or more.”

“She went out to hunt some mint.”

“She don’t ’pear to have found it.”

“Likely she’s doin’ somethin’ else besides. She’ll be back soon. She’s
no shirker, ’Becca ain’t.”

“But Peggy--Eric? Even you yourself are different, Althea. The whole
crew seems to be in the doldrums. I can’t make it out.”

“It’s easy enough to account for Peggy an’ Eric. She’s waverin’ ’twixt
him an’ the lieutenant, an’ not bein’ sure which to take is kinder down
in the mouth about it.”

“Lord! Why, I thought Peggy an’ her sailor man were in the seventh
heaven.”

“They ain’t.”

With admiration the big fellow looked down at her.

“Wal’, wal’! Who would ’a’ dreamed that!” he murmured. “You beat me,
Althea. How come you to know so much about it?” He took a turn or two
across the floor, thoughtfully studying the broad plank on which he
walked. “So you think Peggy ain’t as contented with young Shattuck as
she pretends to be, eh?”

“No. Eric’s the one her heart is really set on.”

“That’s what Lemmy thinks. But as I was sayin’ to him she had Eric hard
an’ fast in the first place an’ ’tain’t probable--”

“Girls are like that. They’re skittish as colts, playin’ fast an’ loose
with men an’ takin’ up with all manner of silliness. Now an’ then they
get trapped doin’ it an’ that’s what’s happened to Miss Peggy.”

“She can’t be very happy about it.”

“She’s miserable. All three of ’em are.”

“But Eric’s got the Parker girl.”

“Asaph Holmes! Well, you’re no more stupid than I was myself, so I’ll
have to forgive you. At one time I thought that too, an’ was sorter up
a tree about it. But my soul’s at rest now, I’m thankful to say, an’
I can assure you positively that Eric Hollingsworth cares nothin’ for
Eleanor Parker an’ never did. It’s lucky for him, too, because she’s
promised already to this chap that hove in sight today.”

“Bless my soul! Why, I figgered much as could be that she an’ Eric--”

“Well, they warn’t.”

The man halted.

“Wal’, I’ll throw up my hands,” he sighed. “This love-makin’ business
is too much for me. I never saw the beat of the snarl they’re all in.
Fur’s I can make out the whole lot of ’em are tangled up with the wrong
folks.” Then as Althea made no response he added: “Don’t you most
think somebody should take a hand an’ set ’em right?”

The effect of the remark was electrical.

“No!” she cried. “Outside people have no earthly right to be meddlin’
with marriages. I’ve always said so an’ lately I’ve had it proved to
me.”

Her earnestness piqued her husband’s curiosity.

“How?” inquired he, scanning her face.

“Oh, I’ve--well, no matter. It’s a long story. I’ve just happened to
see my theory demonstrated, that’s all,” answered she with haste. “The
less humans go dabblin’ with the Lord’s affairs the better, in my
opinion. Nobody thanks ’em for puttin’ in their oar an’ like as not
they do more harm than good by meddlin’.”

“You seem awful roused about it,” he smiled, making a clumsy attempt to
lighten her depression.

Althea ignored his comment.

“I’ve made a vow that in future I’ll ’tend strictly to my own business
an’ leave others to ’tend to theirs,” was her irrelevant response.

“What’s that got to do with Peggy, Eric, an’ the Parker girl?”

“U----m. Nothin’, perhaps. I was just talkin’ on general principles.”

“Wal’, it is a pretty safe rule,” he agreed, strolling to the window
and looking out. Then after a moment he called over his shoulder: “You
don’t think I’d better go outside an’ see if I can find ’Becca, do
you?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Or Lemmy? I might step over there an’ just see what’s detainin’ him.”

“You’ll do nothin’ of the sort. He don’t have to come here every day
an’ help around if he don’t want to. Mebbe he’s got things of his own
to do. He may be transplantin’ somethin’; he said he was goin’ to some
day.”

“But he wouldn’t be transplantin’ in the boilin’ sun.”

Would Althea never learn the rules of gardening?

“I guess he ain’t that particular. He’d do it, most likely, when he got
time.”

“You can’t transplant in the daytime.”

She laughed musically.

“Anybody’d think, to hear you talk, transplantin’ was a sorter
clandestine thing or else somethin’ disrespectable. Well, grantin’ it
can’t be done except under cover, I ain’t goin’ to have you go postin’
over to Lemmy’s to hunt him up. ’Twould look as if you’d come after
him.”

“But he may be sick--had a sunstroke or--”

“Humph! I don’t believe so. Lemmy never has anything the matter with
him.”

“That’s no sign he never will.”

“Oh, he’s all right. Don’t go flyin’ into a hundred pieces about him.
He’ll turn up before long. You’d never have thought of it if I hadn’t
put the notion into your head.”

Nevertheless, in spite of Althea’s comfortable prediction, on sped the
hours and nothing was seen of either Lemuel Gill or Rebecca Crosby.

“I wish I’d gone lookin’ ’em up when I first suggested it,” fidgeted
Asaph. “Don’t you want I should set out now an’ try an’ find ’Becca?”

“Mercy, no.”

“But she always helps with frostin’ the cakes, don’t she?”

“Usually, yes. Still, I’m managin’ to slither ’em over without her.”

“Mebbe somethin’s befallen her. She may have sprained her ankle--”

“Rebecca’s no blunderer. She’s light of foot as a fairy. She’s prob’ly
just takin’ the air.”

“Takin’ the air a busy mornin’ like this! Who ever heard of such an
idea? Besides, it’s most noon.”

“I told her not to hurry.”

“Wal’, she certainly hasn’t. You could get all the mint in Barnstable
county in this time. It’s strikin’ twelve this minute. She’s been gone
two mortal hours.”

“I know it.”

“It don’t take two hours to gather a few sprigs of mint.”

“Do stop fumin’, Asaph,” interposed his wife impatiently. “You’re not
goin’ out either to hunt up Rebecca or drum up Lemuel Gill, so you
may’s well stop talkin’ about it. If they’re dead an hour or so ain’t
goin’ to make any difference with ’em; an’ if they’re livin’ they’ll
show up in time. I’m perfectly capable of runnin’ the Dolphin without
their help. If they don’t want to lend a hand I’m the last one on earth
would urge ’em to. Thank goodness, I’ve some pride if you haven’t.”

“But--but,” began Asaph, making a last feeble protest, “’Becca came
here for the express purpose of--”

Whatever Rebecca’s purpose was was never stated, for at that instant
both the delinquents appeared in the doorway.

Rebecca walked ahead, blushing and wreathed in smiles; Lemuel,
triumphant but a trifle shamefaced, ambled after her.

Asaph sped to greet them.

“Wal’, if I ain’t thankful to see you back!” ejaculated he. “I was just
comin’ to find you.”

“To find us?” Rebecca asked.

“Yes. What kept you? There warn’t nothin’ the matter? You warn’t hurt,
lost or anythin’? We were gettin’ terrible worried.”

“Hush, Asaph!” cautioned Althea beneath her breath.

“’Tain’t late, is it?” Miss Crosby inquired with surprise.

“It’s noontime.”

“Noontime!” echoed the guilty pair.

“Why, I’d no more idea of it than a child unborn!” declared Rebecca.

“Nor I!” asserted Lemuel Gill.

“Did you bring the mint?” Asaph interrogated.

“The mint?” Blankly Rebecca regarded him. “What mint?”

“Althea said you’d gone huntin’ mint for the tea.”

“I forgot all about it,” confessed the lady, obviously much confused.

“Then what in the name of goodness have you been doin’ till now?” asked
the puzzled cross-questioner good-humoredly.

“Asaph Holmes, stop botherin’ ’Becca this minute,” cut in his wife.
“The mint ain’t of no account. Mebbe she couldn’t find any.”

“She--I--we--didn’t look for none,” piped Lemmy, apparently feeling it
time that he came to his inamorata’s rescue.

“Were you huntin’ it too?”

“I warn’t. But I could have if I’d known you wanted any,” apologized
the Captain. “The truth is, ’Becca an’ I was--wal’, we was otherwise
occupied.” He fumbled sheepishly with a button on his coat and stole
a glance out of the corner of his eye at his crony. “We were sorter
talkin’ together--sorter plannin’ how we could--could--”

“Rebecca!” Althea burst out, leaping to her feet and rushing to her
friend’s side. “You don’t mean that you an’ Lemmy are--”

Nodding, Rebecca laughed nervously.

“I never was so pleased, so delighted over anythin’ in all my life!”
Althea continued. “Think of havin’ you just across the field for the
rest of your days! ’Twill be like heaven.”

She caught Rebecca’s hands and kissed her.

In the meantime Asaph stood looking uncomprehendingly from one face to
another.

“Mebbe when you get through talkin’, kissin’, an’ takin’ on, you’ll
tell me what it’s all about,” he said with a hint of peevishness.
“Blamed if I can make anythin’ out of it.”

“Why, Lemmy an’ ’Becca are goin’ to get married!” returned his wife in
the highest of spirits.

“Married? Who said so?” He sniffed at the absurdity of the announcement.

“Rebecca--just now.”

“I didn’t hear her say anythin’ of the sort.”

“I didn’t,” contradicted the woman, blushing scarlet. “’Twas you said
so, Althea.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter who ’twas so long’s it’s true,” retorted Mrs.
Holmes jubilantly. “Ain’t you a word to say to ’em, Asaph? You stand
there as dumbfounded as if the earth had opened before you.”

“I feel as if it had.”

“You didn’t suspect it?”

“’Course I didn’t.” The bewildered expression on his face furnished
incontestable proof of the assertion.

“You wouldn’t, I reckon.” Althea flashed a glance toward Rebecca and
they both laughed.

“But you’re glad, ain’t you, pardner?” put in Lemuel anxiously. “You
ain’t disapprovin’ of what I’ve done, are you? You mustn’t be, for my
marryin’ ain’t goin’ to make a mite of difference with our gardenin’.
In fact, with ’Becca to see to the house I figger I’ll have more time
for plantin’ than ever. We’ve been sayin’ so just now, ain’t we,
’Becca? ’Becca loves gardens, you know. She’s got all sorts of ideas
about fixin’ up the shack. She wants I should clear away the truck
litterin’ the yard an’ start a vegetable garden behind the house. An’
she has a notion the _Sally_ would look nice hauled round to the front
lawn an’ filled with petunias. Oh, we’re goin’ to make a great place of
the cottage before we’re through.”

Lemmy had never looked more absurdly young nor had his ginger hair been
more riotously up-ended. Asaph scanned his starry eyes.

“If I warn’t so plumb thunderstruck--” he began.

“It ain’t that you mind, then?” cried the little man eagerly.

“Mind? How could I, Lemmy? I’d have a pretty slim case, seein’ as how
I got married myself. Bless your heart! It’s only that I’m bowled
completely over an’ every word in the dictionary seems to have got away
from me. To think of your gettin’ married--just to think of it! Wal’,
you couldn’t ’a’ chosen a wife I’d ’a’ liked better. Had I had the
selectin’ she’s the one I’d ’a’ picked for you. But what beats me is
why the thought of you an’ her matin’ never come to me before. Althea
don’t seem flustered by the news like I do.”

“Flustered by it! Why, since first I spied ’em in the kitchen the
thought of their pairin’ off has scarcely been out of my mind.”

“Althea!”

“Well, it hasn’t. What’s more I’ve prayed about it every night.”

“An’ yet you deny bein’ a match-maker,” taunted Rebecca.

Instead of laughing at the jest Althea’s face clouded and she answered
gravely:

“Mebbe I’d no business to petition the Lord about it. Still, I was so
interested I couldn’t seem to help joggin’ His elbow.”

“I reckon you did no harm,” Lemmy declared, reassuringly patting her
arm. “The Almighty meant ’Becca ’an me for one another anyhow, whether
you reminded Him of it or not. As for the other couples frequentin’
the Dolphin--there won’t be no call for you to send up prayers about
them, for fur’s I can see they’re quite capable of matchin’ themselves
up without Divine guidance. As we come along we passed Eleanor Parker
an’ her young man settin’ hand an’ hand in the grape arbor as if their
destiny was settled. As for Peggy an’ Eric--I gather they, too, are
equally well fixed.”

“Are they? Do tell me about it,” Althea demanded.

“P’r’aps I hadn’t oughter tell tales out of school,” drawled Lemuel.
“I won’t tell you much. In fact there ain’t much I can tell. Still,
’cordin’ to polite standards, a gentleman don’t kiss a lady under a
rose-bush an’ she return it unless--”

“Mercy on us! Were they doin’ that?” gasped Althea. “What do you s’pose
has become of the lieutenant?”

“I don’t know nor care,” Rebecca affirmed with amazing callousness.

“He’s gone home--I happen to know that,” Lemmy explained.

“Glory be!” came fervently from Asaph. “He warn’t never the right
husband for Peggy, anyhow. It kinder proves, don’t it, that Providence
knows what it is about? Still, I can’t help feelin’ that after all
’twas the Dolphin that actually made most of these marriages. But for
him ’Becca would likely never have come to Belleport; nor Eleanor
Parker, neither. Even Peggy Davidson might never have decided to hook
up with Eric hadn’t they toted tea together. So you can never say
again, Lemuel Gill, dolphins bring bad luck. Ain’t this one brought you
the best fortune that ever come your way?”




                             CHAPTER XXIII


The following Sunday noon Althea and Asaph were alone at dinner.
Eleanor Parker had returned home and Rebecca had accompanied her to
Springfield for a week-end visit. The house was unwontedly still and so
were the Holmeses.

Usually during the meal, Althea, brightened by a trip to the village
and a glimpse of something beyond the boundaries of her own home,
discussed the sermon; commented artlessly on what the other women wore
to church; or passed along to her husband fragments of gossip gleaned
from her neighbors. But today she had scarcely a word to say, and when
at length she did speak it was to hurl a bomb into the conversational
arena.

“What should you think, Asaph, of closin’ up the Dolphin?” was her
abrupt query.

Her astounded helpmate regarded her blankly.

“Eh?”

“Of shuttin’ up shop,” she elucidated. Then she smiled feebly. “I
’magined the idea would surprise you. Still, I don’t see why it should.
Sooner or later everythin’ has to come to an end.”

She flicked a crumb jauntily from the table-cloth and stole a peep at
her husband.

“Likely after the trouble an’ expense I’ve been to it may seem kinder
early in the season to be givin’ up. It’s only the middle of August,
to be sure. Still, I’ve had my fling an’ am satisfied. It’s been worth
every cent I’ve spent.”

“I warn’t thinkin’ so much of the money,” Asaph stammered. “It was
the notion of your doin’ away with the tea-house that dumbfounded me.
What’s the matter? Gettin’ tuckered out?”

“Yes, I’m tired. You see I ain’t used to bein’ on my feet so much.”

“’Becca oughter save you some.”

“But I sha’n’t have ’Becca much longer. She an’ Lemmy are crazy as two
children to get married, an’ of course there’s no reason for ’em to
delay. They ain’t young an’ it’s only natural they should want to spend
what life’s left ’em together. Anyhow, bein’ tired ain’t my only reason
for abandonin’ the Dolphin. I saw Mattie Bearse at church this mornin’
an’ what she said to me has bothered my conscience ever since. She’s
goin’ to give up the Yaller Fish.”

“Do away with it altogether?”

Gloomily Althea nodded.

“But I thought Mattie was doin’ fine with her tea, trinkets, an’ all.
What’s set her whifflin’ round like this? She ain’t got the money to
toss up a job just ’cause she’s sick of it. Moreover she’s only just
cleared her expenses. To stop now when she is startin’ in to turn a
penny is the height of foolishness. What’s her idea?”

“We’ve taken all her folks. She can’t make the place pay.”

“My soul an’ body!”

“Oh, she was real nice about it--not nasty a mite. She said ’twas all
fair enough an’ she was glad we’d succeeded so well with the Dolphin,
that no doubt it was a heap better’n her place. But for all she put
so brave a front on it I could see her lip trembled an’ that she was
terrible cut up. As you said a minute ago, she has no money to waste,
an’ she’s laid out a lot on the Fish.”

“Why, she was dependin’ on what she made this summer for her year’s
livin’; she told me so herself one day when I was there.”

“I know.”

“An’ you mean to say that after she got well under way we come along
an’ took all the wind out of her sails?”

“I’m afraid so. I hadn’t, though, the least notion in the world when we
started the Dolphin it was goin’ to affect her. If I’d foreseen that
I’d never have stirred an inch to do it. It seemed to me there was room
in Belleport for two shops.”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? ’Specially as ours is on a side road.”

“I’m afraid ’twarn’t wholly the two shops that made the hitch. The rub
comes in ours bein’ better--a sight better,” explained Althea. “You
see the Dolphin’s had all the newest wrinkles an’ made quite a name
for itself. We may’s well look the facts squarely in the face; since
precious little of the credit belongs to us, there’s nothin’ boastful
or vainglorious in admittin’ it. It’s all been due to Peggy. She knew
how everythin’ oughter be done an’ passed the latest quirks on to me.
Folks have raved about the sandwiches, little cakes, an’ fancy fixin’s.
Mattie hadn’t any of ’em an’ the public likes novelties. Such notions
take like wildfire.”

“Wal’, wal’!” mused Asaph. “Poor Mattie! It’s a durn shame! Why, I’d no
more ’a’ done her an ill turn than I’d ’a’ cut off my head.”

“Nor I, neither. Let alone her havin’ her way to make in the world,
’twould ’a’ been a mean, unneighborly trick.”

The dinner progressed in uncomfortable silence.

“Besides,” went on Althea presently, “’tain’t as if we needed the
Dolphin money. We’re only runnin’ our place for fun.”

Her husband allowed the statement to pass unchallenged.

“Then, too, our whole tea-shop staff is beginnin’ to crumble to
pieces,” Althea continued, a fresh angle of the dilemma coming before
her vision. “We’ll soon be left stranded without any help. ’Becca’ll
be marryin’, an’ Peggy goin’ back to Cambridge within a week or two.”

“I thought the Davidsons meant to stay all summer.”

“They did till this romance come about. But now with this weddin’ on
the carpet they’ve changed their plans. Eric insists on the marriage
takin’ place right away. He can’t seem to wait a minute.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“Mebbe it’s as well,” agreed Althea. “Girls are flighty an’ changeable
now-a-days, an’ while I don’t accuse Peggy of bein’ that sort, still
I reckon they’re as well married. Their families are for havin’ the
weddin’ soon, too. So Peggy an’ her mother are goin’ home to get ready.”

“Why don’t she get married here? She could have our front parlor,
same’s ’Becca’s goin’ to.”

His wife’s laughter rippled through the room.

“I s’pose you’d have her married early some afternoon an’ go straight
to servin’ tea afterwards.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s an only daughter, that’s why--an’ her mother wants
the pleasure of toggin’ her out in white satin an’ marchin’ her down
a church aisle. Like as not Peggy herself has a hankerin’ for a big
weddin’, too. Most girls have. In all probability they won’t get more’n
one chance in their lives to marry, an’ are therefore desirous of
havin’ all the fuss an’ feathers.”

Far away the mutter of the surf could be heard.

Asaph stroked his chin reflectively.

“The Dolphin would be somethin’ of a fish to handle with Peggy, Eric,
an’ ’Becca gone,” he conceded.

“Then there’s Mattie--don’t forget her,” cut in Althea.

“I ain’t forgettin’ Mattie. She’s the biggest consideration of all, to
my way of thinkin’.” Rising from the table he began to walk about the
room. “Wal’, Althea, I guess you’re right. Lookin’ at it every way I
reckon we’d better bid the Dolphin good-bye. As for the money, most of
what’s been spent was yours anyhow, an’ if you don’t mind sinkin’ it in
a flyer it ain’t for me to moralize.”

“But we sha’n’t have sunk it,” his wife objected promptly. “We’ve
already taken in more’n enough to clear expenses. I put out a lot at
the start, I’ll own, so we won’t much more’n break even; but we’ll lose
nothin’.”

“Oh, law, then, what are you arguin’ about? I wouldn’t give the matter
a second thought. Pull down the curtains; stick out a sign directin’
folks to Mattie’s; an’ call the whole thing off. We’ll bury the Dolphin
ten fathoms deep without loiterin’ for any partin’ ceremonies.”

“You speak as if you’d enjoy doin’ it.”

“I sha’n’t shed no tears, that’s sure,” Asaph grinned.

“I think you’ve been real good about it,” ventured Althea, tardily
voicing her approval. “Considerin’ how it’s deprived you of your
readin’, gardenin’, an’ pretty much everythin’ you like to do, you’ve
shown true Christian patience.”

“Oh, there have been compensations,” smiled the man. “Peggy, Eric,
’Becca--we might never have known any of ’em but for the Dolphin.
He’s done us that good turn. There’s other folks, too, that I’ve
come to have a real regard for. Old gentleman Haverford, for all his
indigestion, ain’t so bad as one would think. The woman from St. Louis,
too, an’ even the old maid from the Inn that drank tea strong enough to
float a plank on--they each had redeemin’ features, all of which goes
to prove you never can tell about folks from the outside. That’s one
lesson this tea business has taught me.”

“It’s taught other lessons besides that,” responded Althea, seriously.
“One of ’em is that there’s such a thing as havin’ too much company.
I’ve enjoyed the visitors an’ the people who’ve helped us--enjoyed
’em no end. But for all that I’ve had my fill of gossip an’ will
be almighty glad to set down with you an’ have the house to myself
without a procession troupin’ in an’ out the doors every afternoon.
I ain’t been free to go a-visitin’ for weeks, or go to sewin’ meetin’
or anywhere else. I’ve missed a lot of the town doin’s. Why, when I
met Hetty Nickerson at church today she spoke every other breath of
somethin’ I didn’t even know had happened. I realized then how out of
the runnin’ I’d got.”

Asaph chuckled. Althea’s artless confessions never ceased to entertain
him.

“What’ll you do with the Dolphin layout?” he suddenly inquired, a new
thought coming to him. “You’ve got dishes an’ silver enough to stock a
ship.”

“I’ve been turnin’ that over in my mind,” Althea answered. “Of course
the stuff could be sold second-hand an’ somethin’ realized on it; but
a queer feelin’ of sentiment holds me back from doin’ that. I’d rather
give it away. The church would admire to have the dishes, I s’pose; an’
so would the Eastern Star.”

“Why not pack up the outfit an’ turn it over to Mattie as a token of
our good will?”

Althea shook her head.

“I thought of that the very first thing; but it wouldn’t fit in.
Mattie’s place is yaller--the Yaller Fish. Green china--”

“Pshaw! I guess a few green dishes wouldn’t hurt it.”

“They wouldn’t match or go with the name.”

“Let her re-christen her shop then--call it the Green an’ Yaller Fish.
’Twould be just as well. In fact ’twould be a sight truer to life, for
you stand ten times the chance to meet a striped or speckled fish in
the sea than you do a plain-colored one.”

“Mebbe.”

“Ask any fisherman. He’ll tell you so. A green an’ yaller fish would be
real cheerin’. I say we pack up all our truck--dishes, knives, forks,
spoons--the whole kit--an’ let Lemmy an’ me tote ’em over to Mattie’s
before the settin’ of another sun. Some of her dishes must be broken by
now, anyhow.”

“They are. A woman who went there for tea told me some of the plates
an’ cups were chipped an’ real shabby, an’ that it was worth your life
to lay hands on a spoon.”

“Give her ours! Give her ours!” cried Asaph fervently. “Give her
everythin’ we’ve got. ’Twill serve two purposes. ’Twill please her no
end an’ at the same time get the lot of it out of the house. An’ while
you’re at it, why not make a clean sweep an’ write off for her your
receipts for cakes, sandwiches, an’ the flummeries Peggy’s taught you
how to concoct? Mattie has brains an’ with her gift for cookin’ she
could likely dish some of ’em up.”

“Oh, she could make ’em right ’nough if I told her how.”

“Then do it! Turn the Dolphin over to her, bait, line, an’ sinker,
so’st there’ll never be danger of our hookin’ him again.”

Althea laughed, any vague regrets she may have cherished dispelled by
her husband’s rejoicing.

“I reckon you an’ Lemmy won’t be sorry to see him go,” said she.

“We sha’n’t go wearin’ crape bands on our hats, if that’s what you
mean,” affirmed her spouse. “An’ you?”

For an instant Althea paused, half regretfully.

“Me? Well, with ’Becca Crosby livin’ next door, I guess I sha’n’t miss
him either.”

[Illustration]




                          =Transcriber’s Notes=

 Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.



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