Every Man for Himself Part 26

_Then_ there were lights in the cottages of Blunder Cove: instantly, it seemed. And company-and tea and hard bread and chatter-in Skipper Tom Luff's little white kitchen. A roaring fire in the stove: a kettle that sang and chuckled and danced, glad once more to be engaged in the real business of life. So was the cradle-glad to be useful again, though its activity had been but for an hour suspended. It went to work in a business-like way, with never a creak, in response to the gentle toe of "By-an'-by" Brown's top-boot. There was an inquisition, too, through which "By-an'-by" Brown crooned to the baby, "Hush-a-by!" and absently answered, "Uh-huh!" and "By-an'-by!" as placid as could be. Concerning past troubles: Oh, they was-yesterday. And of future difficulties: Well, they was-by-an'-by. "Hush-a-by!" and "By-an'-by!" So they gave him a new name-"By-an'-by" Brown-because he was of those whose past is forgot in yesterday and whose future is no more inimical than-well, jus'

by-an'-by.

"By-an'-by" Brown o' Blunder Cove-paddle-punt fishin' the Blow-me-down grounds....

It had not been for keeps. "By-an'-by" Brown resisted in a fashion so resolute that no encroachment upon his rights was accomplished by Aunt Phoebe Luff. He had wandered too long alone to be willing to yield up a property in hearts once he possessed it. And Blunder Cove approved. The logic was simple: _If_ "By-an'-by" Brown took the child t' raise, why, then, n.o.body else would _have_ t'. The proceeding was never regarded as extraordinary. n.o.body said, "How queer!" It was looked upon merely as a commendably philanthropic undertaking on the part of "By-an'-by" Brown; the accident of his s.e.x and situation had nothing to do with the problem. Thus, when Aunt Phoebe's fostering care was no longer imperative "By-an'-by" Brown said _Now_ for the first time in his life, and departed with the baby. By that time, of course, there was an establishment: a whitewashed cottage by the water-side, a stage, a flake, a punt-all the achievement of "By-an'-by's" own hands. A new account, too: this on the ledger of Wull & Company, trading the French Sh.o.r.e with the _Always Loaded_, putting in off and on.

"By-an'-by's" baby began to grow perceptibly. "By-an'-by" just kept on growing, 'lowin' t' stop sometime-by-an'-by. It happened-by-an'-by. This was when he was two-and-twenty: by which time, according to enthusiastic observers from a more knowing and appreciative world, he was Magnificent. The splendor consisted, it was said, in bulk, muscle, and the like, somewhat, too, perhaps, in poise and glance; but Blunder Cove knew that these external and relatively insignificant aspects were transcended by the spiritual graces which "By-an'-by" Brown displayed.

He was religious; but it must be added that he was amiable. A great, tender, devoted dog: "By-an'-by" Brown. This must be said for him: that if he by-an'-byed the unpleasant necessities into a future too distant to be troublesome, he by-an'-byed the appearance of evil to the same far exile. After all, it may be a virtue to practise the art of by-an'-bying.

As for the baby at this period, the age of seven years, the least said the less conspicuous the failure to say anything adequate. Language was never before so helplessly mocked. It may be ventured, however, to prove the poverty of words, that dispa.s.sionately viewed through the eyes of "By-an'-by" Brown, she was angelic. "Jus' a wee li'l' mite of a angel!"

said he. Of course, this is not altogether original, nor is it specific; but it satisfied "By-an'-by" Brown's idea of perfection. A slim little slip of a maid of the roguishly sly and dimpled sort: a maid of delicate fashioning, exquisite of feature-a maid of impulsive affections. Exact in everything; and exacting, too-in a captivating way. And herein was propagated the germ of disquietude for "By-an'-by" Brown: promising, indeed (fostered by the folly of procrastination), a more tragic development. "By-an'-by's" baby was used to saying, You _told_ me so.

Also, But you _promised_. The particular difficulty confronting "By-an'-by" Brown was the baby's insistent curiosity, not inconsistent with the age of seven, concerning the whereabouts of her father and the time and manner of his return.

Brown had piqued it into being: just by saying-"By-an'-by!"

"Ay," says she; "but _when_ will he be comin' back?"

"Why," he answered, bewildered-"by-an'-by!"

It was a familiar evasion. The maid frowned. "Is you sure?" she demanded, sceptically.

"Ye bet ye!" he was prompt to reply, feeling bound now, to convince her, whatever came of it; "he'll be comin' back-by-an'-by."

"Well, then," said the maid, relieved, "I s'pose so."

Brown had never disclosed the brutal delinquency of Long Bill Tweak. Not to the maid, because he could not wound her; not to Blunder Cove, because he would not shame her. The revelation must be made, of course; but not now-by-an'-by. The maid knew that her mother was dead beyond recall: no mystery was ever made of that; and there ended the childish wish and wonder concerning that poor woman. But her father? Here was an inviting mystery. No; he was not what you might call dead-jus' sort o'

gone away. Would he ever come back? Oh, _sure_! no need o' frettin'

about that; _he'd_ be back-by-an'-by. Had "By-an'-by" Brown said _Never_, the problem would have been dieposed of, once and for all: the fretting over with, once and for all. But what he said was this uncourageous and specious by-an'-by. So the maid waited in interested speculation: then impatiently. For she was used to saying, You _told_ me so. Also, But then you _promised_.

As by-an'-by overhauled by-an'-by in the days of "By-an'-by" Brown, and as the ultimate by-an'-by became imminent, "By-an'-by" Brown was ever more disquieted.

"But," says the maid, "'by-an'-by' is never."

"Oh, my, no!" he protested.

She tapped the tip of his nose with a long little forefinger, and emphasized every word with a stouter tap. "Yes-it-is!" said she.

"Not _never_," cried "By-an'-by" Brown.

"Then," says she, "is it to-morrow?"

Brown violently shook his head.

"Is it nex' week?"

"Goodness, no!"

"Well," she insisted-and she took "By-an'-by's" face between her palms and drew it close to search his eyes-"is it nex' year?"

"Maybe."

She touched the tip of her white little nose to the sunburned tip of his. "But _is_ it?" she persisted.

"Uh-huh," said "By-an'-by" Brown, recklessly, quite overcome, committing himself beyond redemption; "nex' year."

And "By-an'-by's" baby remembered....

Next year began, of course, with the first day of January. And a day with wind and snow it was! Through the interval of three months preceding, Brown had observed the approach of this veritable by-an'-by with rising alarm. And on New Year's Day, why, there it was: by-an'-by come at last! "By-an'-by" Brown, though twenty-two, was frightened. No wonder! Hitherto his life had not been perturbed by insoluble bewilderments. But how to produce Long Bill Tweak from the mist into which he had vanished at Back Yard Bight of the Labrador seven years ago? It was beyond him. Who could call Bill Tweak from seven years of time and the very waste places of s.p.a.ce? Not "By-an'-by" Brown, who could only ponder and sigh and scratch his curly head. And here was the maid, used to saying, as maids of seven will, But you told me so! and, You _promised_! So "By-an'-by" Brown was downcast as never before; but before the day was spent he conceived that the unforeseen might yet fortuitously issue in the salvation of himself and the baby.

"Maybe," thought he-"by-an'-by!"

As January progressed the maid grew more eager and still more confident.

He _promised_, thinks she; also, He _told_ me so. There were times, as the terrified Brown observed, when this eagerness so possessed the child that she trembled in a fashion to make him shiver. She would start from her chair by the stove when a knock came late o' windy nights on the kitchen door; she would stare up the frozen harbor to the Tickle by day-peep through the curtains, interrupt her housewifely duties to keep watch at the window.

"Anyhow, he _will_ come," says she, quite confidently, "by-an'-by."

"Uh-huh!" Brown must respond.

What was a shadow upon the gentle spirit of "By-an'-by" Brown was the sunlight of certain expectation irradiating "By-an'-by's" baby. But the maid fell ill. n.o.body knew why. Suspicion dwelled like a skeleton with "By-an'-by" Brown; but this he did not divulge to Blunder Cove. Nothin'

much the matter along o' she, said the Cove; jus' a little spell o'

somethin' or other. It was a childish indisposition, perhaps-but come with fever and pallor and a poignant restlessness. "By-an'-by" Brown had never before known how like to a black cloud the future of a man might be. At any rate, she must be put to bed: whereupon, of course, "By-an'-by" Brown indefinitely put off going to bed, having rather stand watch, he said. It was presently a question at Blunder Cove: who was the more wan and pitiable, "By-an'-by's" baby, being sick, or "By-an'-by,"

being anxious? And there was no cure anywhere to be had-no cure for either. "By-an'-by" Brown conceived that the appearance of Long Bill Tweak would instantly work a miracle upon the maid. But where was Bill Tweak? There was no magic at hand to accomplish the feat of summoning a scamp from Nowhere!

One windy night "By-an'-by" Brown sat with the child to comfort her. "I 'low," he drawled, "that you wisht a wonderful sight that your father was here."

"Uh-_huh_!" the maid exclaimed.

Brown sighed. "I s'pose," he muttered.

"Is he comin'?" she demanded.

"Oh-by-an'-by!"

"I wisht 'twas _now_," said she. "That I does!"

Brown listened to the wind. It was blowing high and bitterly: a winter wind, with snow from the northeast. "By-an'-by" was troubled.

"I 'low," said he, hopelessly, "that you'll love un a sight, won't ye?-when he comes?"

"Ye bet ye!" the maid answered.

"More'n ye love-some folks?"