Dorothy's Travels Part 17

He'd tossed off his jacket and dove for me and was dragging me to the surface and the boat. I tried to get hold of him tighter but he kicked me off and said if I did that we'd both go down. I thought we would, anyhow, so I did let go and then he got me to the boat, yanking me by the collar and--that was all for a good while. I--I was pretty sick I guess. I'd swallowed so much salt water and all. He and Tommy rubbed me and jounced me around and paid no attention to the boat, that kept drifting further out all the time.

"I don't remember much else. I lay on the bottom of the thing and the boys put their coats over me to stop my shivering. Melvin said afterward that I shivered from fear and shock more than from dripping, too, but he couldn't stop for that. He had to try to get back to sh.o.r.e and the fog was rising.

"Tommy told me a good deal, later on when I felt better. He said the fog got so thick Melvin was afraid to try and sail lest we should b.u.mp into some other craft. So we lay still till--I guess you know the rest. Now I want to hear, has anybody coddled either of those boys--heroes, both of 'em--as you've coddled me? If they haven't been treated right I'll make it lively for somebody. Anyhow, I want to get up and dress. I'm ashamed of myself. When I see how other boys act I think I've been--Well, I won't call your lovey-dovey hard names! But you hear me say: I'll be a man after this or--or know the reason why!"

It certainly was a long speech for a sick boy as Mrs. Stark persisted in considering him; and it left her shaken and most undecided on various points. Upon one, however, she was fully set; she would cut this Nova Scotia trip short at once. She would telegraph her husband in Boston and follow her telegram, bag and baggage, by that afternoon's train. With this resolve in mind she left the room; merely bidding her son "lie still till I come back."

Then she descended to the hotel office and called for a telegraph blank.

This was courteously provided; also pen and ink with which to inscribe it, which she promptly did, then the following dialogue:--

"Please send this message at once, clerk."

"Sorry, Madam, but I can't do it. Not to-day."

"Why not?" haughtily.

"Office is closed. No despatches sent on Sunday. Can do it about seven A. M. Monday."

"You mean to tell me that ridiculous stuff? Where is the office? If this second-rate hotel can't accommodate its patrons I'll take it myself."

"The office is at the railway station, Madam. You will find it closed."

"Indeed? Well, when does the first train start for Yarmouth and a steamer for the States, either Boston or New York?"

"At ten o'clock Monday morning. Upon arrival at Yarmouth meets steamers for both ports, Madam."

"None, to-day?"

"None, Madam. It is a law of the Province. From Sat.u.r.day night to Monday morning all traffic is suspended."

Mrs. Stark did not continue the dialogue. She couldn't. She was too astonished and too indignant. That she, Mrs. Ebenezer Stark, wife of the great banker of that name, should not be able to control a matter of this sort was simply incredible. With her head very high she left the desk and sought the Judge in his quiet corner of the piazza, where he sat, newspaper over face, trying to catch "forty winks" after his night of scant sleep.

He suppressed a yawn as he rose at the lady's call.

"Judge Breckenridge, a moment, if you please. Sorry to disturb you but it's most important. I want to send a telegram and that ridiculous clerk says I can't do it."

"Quite right. I'd like to myself and can't."

He placed a chair for her and she thoroughly aired her grievance. He sympathized but declared himself powerless to help her. She remarked:

"It is simply outrageous. A trap to keep visitors here whether or no. My husband will make it his business to alter the whole thing. I must go and take Monty away from here. I am in fear for his life. I shan't rest till I see him safe back in his father's arms."

The Judge listened courteously, but said:

"We tourists have no business to find fault with the laws the Provincials make for themselves. We'd resent their interference in the States. As for taking your son away, just because of a little accident which ended all right, aren't you making a mistake? In any case, since you cannot get away till to-morrow, anyway, wouldn't it be wise for you to rest now and recuperate from your night of anxiety? Unless you will join us in church-going. Lucretia never lets me off that duty, even if I were inclined, but I'm not. Like herself I always enjoy service in strange churches. We would be most happy to have you?"

"Thank you, but I couldn't. Not to-day. I'm too upset and weary. I couldn't leave my darling boy, either, after he's just been rescued from a--a watery grave. He's just told me that he fell, or was pushed overboard, and that the bugling boy was scared and helped him out. Oh!

it makes me cold all over just to think of it!"

The Judge was no longer sleepy. His tone was sharp and judicial as he asked:

"Is that the version Montmorency gave of the affair?"

Then when she hesitated to answer, he added:

"Because I have heard quite a different one. I wormed it out of little Tommy, whom Melvin had threatened with punishment if he betrayed the really heroic part the 'bugling boy' played in the case. Doubly brave because, though he has tried his best to overcome it, Melvin has a horror of the sea. His father was drowned and if he followed his inclination the orphaned lad would never leave dry ground. But his race is a sea-faring one, and he knows that it may only be by following the profession of his forebears that he can ever earn a living for himself and his mother--though I should have put her first, as she certainly is in her son's thoughts. When Montmorency fooled and fell overboard--by no means was pushed--Melvin conquered his own horror and plunged after him.

If he hadn't--Well, we shouldn't be talking so calmly together now, you and I."

Poor Mrs. Stark! She was torn and tossed by more emotions than had ever been hers during her easy life, and each emotion was at variance with another. She dropped into a chair to collect herself; and at the end of a few moments remarked:

"If that is the case I will do something for the boy. Whatever amount of money you think suitable, I will give you a check for."

He wanted to retort sharply, but he didn't. He forced himself to say quite gently:

"No payment, Mrs. Stark, would prove acceptable. In his victory over himself and his own cowardice Melvin has grown richer than any dollars could make him. If you will pardon my advice, don't offer him anything save kindness and don't make that too conspicuous. A shy boy needs careful handling."

He bowed as she now rose and went her way, a very thoughtful woman. But her heart rejoiced beyond expression that no matter what the details of the night's episode had been, her best-loved object in this world was safe and sound. She would go to him and basking in the sunshine of his beloved presence content herself as best she could, until tomorrow's trains should bear them both away.

Alas! When she came to the room where she had left him she found no chance to "bask." Her "sunshine" had again disappeared.

CHAPTER XI

IN EVANGELINE LAND

The obliging operator at the telegraph office was almost at her wits'

end. She had never been besieged so early in the morning and required to send so many lengthy messages, nor have them come crowding one another so confusingly. The strange part of it all was that although they were intended for one person, a Mr. Ebenezer Stark of Boston, there were three persons telegraphing him.

One was a stout lady of exceedingly fashionable appearance and most peremptory manner. As seemed fitting the first reply of Mr. Ebenezer Stark was for her, and a.s.sured her that he would meet her at the wharf, with a carriage, upon the arrival of the first steamer out from Yarmouth. It also informed her that he had already sent her word by post--that letter could follow her home--of the dangerous illness of her mother and that she should make all possible haste. Thus far her message suited him exactly. He made no mention of their son nor did she. It went without saying that Monty would accompany his mother upon her return trip.

Judge Breckenridge was also an early riser. He had met Monty hurrying down the back street toward the little railway station and the office in its corner, and had greeted him with gay surprise:

"Heigho, lad! Whither so fast and so early?"

"Trying to get ahead of Mamma."

"Why, Montmorency!" cried the gentleman, with an a.s.sumed sternness yet a twinkle in his eye.

"Fact. She's on the road somewhere, but she had to wait for them to hitch up a rig first. Thinks she can't walk these few blocks alone, I suppose, and didn't suspect I could have escorted her. But 'Lovey'

didn't tell her his plans till he knows if he can carry them out. But I'm glad to see you. I didn't want to do anything sort of underhand with you, you know. Say, Judge, does your invitation to go camping still hold good? After my looking such a m.u.f.f and acting it?"

"Certainly. If your parents permit, I shall be glad to have you. I think that a few weeks' a.s.sociation with men like my friends would give you a new idea of true manliness; and I can promise you to hear more good stories from the 'Boys' than you ever heard in your life."

"Thank you, sir. I'm going to wire Papa to let me stay. What he says goes, even with Mamma. He lets her have her way about my school, and clothes and all that stuff, but he hasn't ever quite let go of me himself. If it hadn't been for Papa I'd be a bigger m.u.f.f than I am now.

Only he's so awfully absorbed in business that he never takes a vacation himself or does anything except pile up the cash and shove it out for Mamma to spend. Beg pardon, I've no business to tell you, or bother you, with our affairs. I only wanted to know in case he says 'Yes.'"