A Cry in the Wilderness Part 15

"Oh, you do! Who told you?"

"Delia Beaseley."

"Is she a widow?" Jamie asked slyly.

"Now, no nonsense, Jamie Macleod." I spoke severely.

"Nonsense! I was only putting two and two together logically; you said the Doctor trusted her--"

"And well he may. No, she is n't a widow," I said shortly.

"That settles it; you need n't be so touchy about it."

"Has he any children?" I asked, ignoring the admonition.

"No; that's his other great sorrow. He lost both his son and daughter.

Do you know, I can't help thinking he 's doing all this for them?"

"You mean the farm arrangement?"

"Yes, and us--he 's been such a friend to mother and me. Oh, he 's great!" He was lost suddenly in one of his silences. I had already learned never to permit myself the liberty of breaking them.

We drove into the village, and, while Jamie was with the grocer, "stoking ", as he put it for the coming week, I was wondering what to make of Delia Beaseley's theory about the "conscience money" and its connection with the farm. Was it to aid in carrying out the Doctor's plans for helpfulness? From what Jamie Macleod had told me, I came to the conclusion that neither he nor his mother knew anything of _that_ financial source. How strange it seemed to know of this tangled skein of circ.u.mstance, the right thread of which I could not grasp!

While thinking of this, I became aware of the noise of a cheap graphophone carrying a melody with its raucous voice; the sounds came from a cabaret just below the steamboat landing-place. I listened closely to catch the words; the melody, even in this cheap reproduction, was a beautiful one.

"_O Canada, pays de mon amour_--"

I caught those words distinctly, and was amusing myself with this expression of patriotism when Jamie came out of the shop.

"What's up?" he asked, noticing my listening att.i.tude.

"Hark!" He listened intently.

"Oh, that!" he said with a smile of recognition as he stepped into the wagon; "you should hear Ewart sing it. I 've heard him in camp and seen old Andre fairly weep at hearing it. I see you are discovering Richelieu-en-Bas; but you should make acquaintance with the apple-boat."

"What's that?"

"It's a month too late now for it; it moors just below the cabaret by the lowest level of the bank. It's a fine old sloop, and the hull is filled with the reddest, roundest, biggest apples that you 've ever seen. I come down here once a day regularly while she is here, just to get the fragrance into my nostrils, to walk the narrow plank to her deck, and touch--and taste to my satisfaction. We put in ten barrels at the manor."

I could see that picture in my mind's eye: the old apple-boat, the heaped up apples, the hull glowing with their color, the green river bank, the blue waters of the St. Lawrence, the islands for a background--and the October air spicy with the fragrance of Pomona's blessed gift!

We put the old cart-horse through his best paces in order to be at home before sunset. We had all the books to arrange in the next two days for we had left them until the last. Pete was opening the boxes when we came away.

VI

After supper we went over the house to see the various furnishings by firelight. Pete had built roaring fires in each bedroom to take off the chill, and was to keep them going till the rooms should be occupied on the night of the fifteenth; this was necessary against the increasing cold.

I confess I had worked to some purpose, and Mrs. Macleod and every member of the household seconded me with might and main. Now, in a body, the eight of us trooped from room to room, to enjoy the sight of the labor of our hands. Angelique was stolidly content. Marie was volubly enthusiastic. Cale, his hands in his pockets, took in all with keen appreciative eyes, and expressed his satisfaction in a few words:

"'T ain't every man can get a welcome home like this."

"You 're right, Cale," said Jamie, "and there are n't so many men it's worth doing all this for."

We stood together, admiring,--and I was happy. I had spent but eighty-seven dollars, "_pieces_", and the rooms did look so inviting!

The windows and beds were hung with the English chintz, which was old fashioned, a mixture of red and white with a touch of gray. I had sent to Montreal for fine lamb's wool coverlets for every bed. The village furnished plain deal tables for writing. Jamie stained them dark oak, and I put on desk pads and writing utensils. Two easy chairs cushioned with the chintz were in each room. The old English-ware toilet sets of white and gold looked really stately on the old-fashioned stands. Mrs.

Macleod sewed, with Marie's help, until she had provided every window with an inner set of white dimity curtains, every washstand, every bureau and table with a cover. She made sheets by the dozen which Angelique and Marie laundered. Pete had polished the fine old bra.s.s andirons, that furnished each fireplace, till they shone. My bedroom foot-rugs were p.r.o.nounced a success, and graced the rag carpets beside each bed; they were of coa.r.s.e gray and white fur. Marie had found in the garret some long-unused white china candlesticks of curious design, like those in my room; a pair stood on each bureau.

We were standing about in the Doctor's room, admiring. The firelight played on the white walls, deepened the red in the hangings to crimson, shone in the ball-topped andirons, and lighted the pleased satisfied faces about me. A sudden thought struck a chill to my heart:

"What a contrast between this room and that poor bas.e.m.e.nt in V---- Court where, twenty-six years ago, the man who is going to enjoy this comfort fought for my mother's life, and succeeded in giving me mine!"

I left the room abruptly. Jamie called after me:

"Where are you going, Marcia?"

"Down stairs to begin with the books."

"Hold on till I come; you can't handle them alone. Cale, put the screens before the fires. Come on down, mother."

The pa.s.sageway was stacked high with books along the walls. Cale had brought them in, and these were not the half. I was looking at them when the others came down.

"You took them out, Cale, how many do you think there are?"

"I cal'lated 'bout three hundred in a box. We 've opened five, and there 's two we ain't opened."

Jamie started to gather up an armful, but Cale took them from him. His tenderness and care of him were wonderful to see.

"No yer don't! If there 's to be any fetchin' and carryin', I 'm the one ter do it."

"And I 'm the one to place and cla.s.sify. I want to prove that I did n't work five years in the New York Library for nothing." I stayed with Cale while he was gathering up the books.

"I cal'late you was paid a good price fer handlin' other folks'

brains." Cale spoke tentatively, and I humored him; I like to give news of myself piece-meal.

"Of course, I did, Cale; I had nine dollars a week."

"Hm--pretty small wages fer a treadmill like thet!" He spoke almost scornfully.

"Oh, that was better than I had in the beginning. What would you say to four dollars a week, Cale?"

"With room and keep?"

"Not a bit of it; board and room and clothes had to come out of that."