Darrel of the Blessed Isles Part 37

"It was nice of you to bring the flowers," said Polly. "They are beautiful."

"But not like those in thy cheeks, dear child. Where is the good mother?" said Darrel.

"She and the boys are gone a-berrying, and I have been making jelly. We're going to have a party to-night for your birthday."

"'An' rise up before the h.o.a.ry head an' honour the face o' the old man,'" said Darrel, thoughtfully. "But, child, honour is not for them that tinker clocks."

"'Honour and fame from no condition rise,'" said Polly, who sat in a chair, knitting.

"True, dear girl! Thy lips are sweeter than the poet's thought."

"You'll turn my head;" the girl was laughing as she spoke.

"An it turn to me, I shall be happy," said the tinker, smiling, and then he began to feel the b.u.t.tons on his waistcoat. "Loves me, loves me not, loves me, loves me not--"

"She loves you," said Polly, with a smile.

"She loves me, hear that, boy," said the tinker. "Ah, were she not bespoke! Well, G.o.d be praised, I'm happy," he added, filling his pipe.

"And seventy," said Polly.

"Ay, three score an' ten--small an' close together, now, as I look off at them, like a flock o' pigeons in the sky."

"What do you think?" said Polly, as she dropped her knitting. "The two old maids are coming to-night."

"The two old maids!" said Darrel; "'tis a sign an' a wonder."

"Oh, a great change has come over them," Polly went on. "It's all the work o' the teacher. You know he really coaxed them into sliding with him last winter."

"I heard of it--the gay Philander!" said Darrel, laughing merrily.

"Ah! he's a wonder with the maidens!"

"I know it," said Polly, with a sigh.

Trove was idly brushing the mat of gra.s.s with a walking-stick. He loved fun, but he had no conceit for this kind of banter.

"It was one of my best accomplishments," said he, blushing. "I taught them that there was really a world outside their house and that men were not all as lions, seeking whom they might devour."

Soon the widow and her boys came, their pails full of berries.

"We cannot shake hands with you," said Mrs. Vaughn, her fingers red with the berry stain.

"Blood o' the old earth!" said Darrel. "How fares the clock?"

"It's too slow, Polly says."

"Ah, time lags when love is on the way," Darrel answered.

"Foolish child! A little while ago she was a baby, an' now she is in love."

"Ah, let the girl love," said Darrel, patting the red cheek of Polly, "an' bless G.o.d she loves a worthy lad,"

"You'd better fix the clock." said Polly, smiling. "It is too fast, now."

"So is the beat o' thy heart," Darrel answered, a merry look in his eyes, "an' the clock is keeping pace."

Trove got up, with a laugh, and went away, the boys following.

"I'm worried about him," the widow whispered. "For a long time he hasn't been himself."

"It's the trouble--poor lad! 'Twill soon be over," said Darrel, hopefully.

There were now tears in the eyes of Polly.

"I do not think he loves me any more," said she, her lips trembling.

"Speak not so, dear child; indeed he loves thee."

"I have done everything to please him," said Polly, in broken words, her face covered with her handkerchief.

"I wondered what was the matter with you, Polly," said her mother, tenderly.

"Dear, dear child!" said the tinker, rising and patting her head.

"The chaplet on thy brow an' thee weeping!--fairest flower of all!"

"I have wished that I was dead;" the words came in a little moan between sobs.

"Because: Love hath led thee to the great river o' tears? Nay, child, 'tis a winding river an' crosses all the roads."

He had taken her handkerchief, and with a tender touch was drying her eyes.

"Now I can see thee smiling, an' thy lashes, child--they are like the spray o' the fern tip when the dew is on it."

Polly rose and went away into the house. Darrel wiped his eyes, and the widow sat, her chin upon her hand, looking down sadly and thoughtfully. Darrel was first to speak.

"Did it ever occur to ye, Martha Vaughn, this child o' thine is near a woman but has seen nothing o' the world ?"

"I think of that often," said she, the mother's feeling in her voice.

"Well, if I understand him, it's a point of honour with the boy not to pledge her to marriage until she has seen more o' life an' made sure of her own heart. Now, consider this: let her go to the school at Hillsborough, an' I'll pay the cost."

The widow looked up at him without speaking.

"I'm an old man near the end o' this journey, an' ye've known me many years," Darrel went on. "There's nothing can be said against it. Nay; I'll have no thanks. Would ye thank the money itself, the bits o' paper? No; nor Roderick Darrel, who, in this business, is no more worthy o' grat.i.tude. Hush! who comes?"

It was Polly herself in a short, red skirt, her arms bare to the elbows. She began to busy herself about the house.

"Too bad you took off that pretty dress, Polly," said Trove, when he returned.