Sweetapple Cove Part 14

"Few of them have the slightest chance of obtaining any education," I replied. "And Mr. Barnett was so nice to him, explaining things. Then he said nothing at all about the chastening effect of suffering. That seems to be something these people know about. The parson just said that we were all so glad to see him getting well again. You know, Daddy, the admonitions of some dominies sound rather like hitting a fellow when he's down. Mr. Barnett isn't that kind."

"I expect that he belongs to a first-rate kind, my dear," said Daddy.

"There are all kinds of religions, but the only one I respect is that of the simple, trusting soul."

"I met Mrs. Barnett and asked her to come in to supper," I informed Dad.

"We have plenty of canned chicken left and Susie's brother brought in a lot of beautiful trout. The man thought that fifteen cents a dozen would be about the right price, but he left it to me, and I couldn't beat him down. When he brought them Susie disdainfully informed him that fish was grub for poor people, and that we had lots of lovely things in cans. I insisted on taking the trout."

"If you continue to squander money in that way I'll have to cut down your allowance," threatened Daddy, whereupon I reminded him that he had never made me one and that I had always sent the bills to him.

He was laughing. I think it's the nicest thing in the world for a girl to be such pals with her father. I wouldn't give one of the nice grey hairs on his temples for all the n.o.bility and gentry of Europe and the millionaires of America. Then I went to get the chess-board and the dear man gave me all the p.a.w.ns I wanted and proceeded to wipe the floor with me, as Harry says. We played on till it began to get dark and Susie came in with the lamp which she placed in the bracket fastened to the wall.

"Like as not it'll be rainin' soon," she announced. "The swallers is flyin' low and the wind he've turned to sou-east, so belike it'll be pourin' in a while. How's yer leg feelin' the night, Mister, an' is there anythin' else I might be doin' fer yer?"

"No thank you, Susie," he replied.

"So long as parson's comin' I better make hot biscuits too. He's after likin' them, an' I kin open one o' they little white crocks o' jam. He holds more'n what ye'd think a wee bit man the likes o' he would manage to, though he don't never fat up, an' it goes ter show as grub makes brains with some folks, an' blubber in others."

I could make no answer to such highly scientific statements, and in a few moments a knock was heard at the door, upon which our handmaiden precipitated herself.

"Come right in," she said. "Don't take notice if yer boots is muddy fer I'll be scrubbin' th' floor ter-morrer. Yer must have been ter the Widdy Walters, for they is a big puddle afore her door, even this dry weather we've had couple o' days. Come right in an' welcome fer everybody's glad ter see yer."

Having thus amply done the honors Susie backed away and our two guests came in. The parson actually had a dress-suit which smelt most powerfully of camphor b.a.l.l.s and Mrs. Barnett wore something that must have been a dear little dress some years ago, in which she looked as sweet as sweet can be. They were both smiling ever so brightly, and the little lump that was rising in my throat at the sight of these pathetic clothes went back to wherever is its proper place.

"Good evening, Mr. Jelliffe," said the parson, and repeated his greeting to me. "It feels a little like rain. I see that you have been playing chess. Dear me, it is such a long time since I have had a game."

I told him that this was a very imprudent remark, for which my father would make him pay dearly. I am afraid his sense of humor is drawn down rather fine, or lying fallow, or something. I had to explain that he would be captured and made to play whether he wanted to or not, whereat he beamed.

Susie came in again to get our little table ready, and brought up the barrel-top which is her latest improvisation of a tray for Daddy's use. I rose to a.s.sist in the preparatives but Susie scorned my aid.

"Ye jist set down an' enj'y yerself," she commanded me. "'T ain't every day one has th' parson to talk ter. I kin shift ter do it all an' it's no use havin' a dog an' doin' yer own barkin', like the sayin' is. Th'

biscuits is done brown an' th' kittle's on the bile."

She ran out again for our dishes, and Daddy turned to our two friends.

"You are looking at an abject slave and a young lady who is getting fairly tamed, though at times she still rebels. Both of these young women exercise authority over me all day long until the ownership of my own soul has become a moot question. When my leg is properly spliced again I shall take that freak Susie to New York and exhibit her as the greatest natural curiosity I have been able to find on the island."

Mrs. Barnett laughed, ever so pleasantly, and declared that Susie was a good girl whose intentions were of the best.

Then Daddy went on to explain to Mrs. Barnett the mystery of our presence here. He told how our second mate had boasted of the salmon that swarmed in Sweetapple Cove, and how in a moment of folly he had decided to forsake the Tobique for that year and explore new ground. I was the one who had suggested camping out, practically, if we could find a little house, while we sent back the yacht for repairs, at St. John's. We were expecting it soon. The accident, of course, had to be thoroughly described.

"It was a beautiful fish, madam, a perfect beauty," he went on. "A clean run salmon of twenty pounds, if he was an ounce, and as strong as a horse. I had to follow him down stream and, first thing you know, I toppled over those confounded rocks and my leg was broken. The fish went away, towing my best rod and reel towards the Cove."

The parson said grace and we sat down. I am happy to say that they enjoyed Susie's culinary efforts, and we had the nicest chatty time. Just as we finished we all stopped conversing and listened. The rain was pelting down upon our little window panes and the wind came in heavy gusts, while, far away, the thunder was rolling. Then, after a time, we heard steps upon the little porch and I rose to open the door. It was Dr.

Grant, engaged in the very necessary formality of removing his dripping oilskins.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Please do so," I answered. "We didn't expect you back until to-morrow.

My father will be delighted to see you, as will your other friends."

He came in and sat down after he had greeted everybody. The poor man looked quite worn and hara.s.sed. It was a distinct effort that he made to speak in his usual pleasant way, and I could see that something troubled him.

"I think I will leave you now," he said, after a few moments. "I just wanted to find out how Mr. Jelliffe was getting on. They are expecting me at Sammy's,"

"Oh! Do rest for a moment," I told him. "You look very tired."

He sat down again, looking at his feet.

"The wind died down and the tide was bearing us away," he explained. "We had to take to the oars. Pulled a good fifteen miles. We were rather hurried, for we could see this storm coming up. I'm glad we made the Cove just in time."

We could all hear the rain spattering down violently. Flashes of lightning were nearly continuous and the thunder claps increased in intensity while the wind shook our little house.

"It is all white water outside now," he said, listening. "Well, I'll be off now."

"Yer ain't a goin' ter do nothin' o' the kind," interrupted Susie, who had just entered with another plate. "There's plenty tea left an' if there ain't I kin make more. Ye jist bide there till I brings yer some grub. Ye're dead weary an' needs it bad."

"Do stay," I sought to persuade him.

"Thank you, you are very kind," he said.

One could see that for the moment he didn't care whether he had anything to eat or not, yet he managed to do fair justice to Susie's cooking.

"I am feeling a great deal better now," he soon announced. "I think I was rather f.a.gged out. We came back so early because I found I was no longer needed. I am ever so much obliged to you. I'm afraid I am not very good company to-night and I will be back early in the morning. That plaster cast is getting a little loose. We will split it down to-morrow and have a good look at things."

Mrs. Barnett had risen also and was looking at him. In her eyes I detected something that was a very sweet, motherly sympathy. Her quick intuition had shown her that something had gone entirely wrong. Her smile was so kind and friendly that it seemed to dissolve away something hard that had come over the surface of the man.

"Isn't there anything that we can do for you?" she asked.

"Nothing!" he exclaimed. "What can any one expect to do? What is the use of keeping on trying when one has to be forever bucking against ignorance and stupidity? There is nothing the matter with me. Just a dead woman and baby, that is all. Just a poor, hard-working creature that has scarcely known a moment of real happiness in this world. She had five little ones already, clinging to her skirts, and a lot of stupid neighbors. I know the kind of advice she got from those silly old women. 'No use callin' in th' doctor. Them things comes on all right if yer has patience. They doctors does dreadful things. I's had seven an' here I be, an' no doctor ever nigh me.' Oh! I can hear the poor fools speaking, and naturally she took their advice. Then, of course, when she was gasping for breath and beginning to grow cold they sent for me, thirty miles away, and when I landed they told me it was all over, and I found them moaning, with a wild-eyed man huddled up in a corner hardly able to understand, and a lot of little ones crying for food."

He stopped and wiped his brow with his handkerchief, and looked around him, without appearing to see any of us. It was like a pent-up stream that had burst from its dam, and the flood was not yet exhausted.

"I felt like cursing the lot of them," he continued, "and giving them the tongue-lashing of their lives. But much good it would have done, and I managed to hold myself back! I couldn't help telling them that they should have sent for me three days ago, when things began to go wrong.

They know well enough how to weep over their misery, but no one can make them use their silly heads. They keep on coming with infected gurry sores as if arms could be saved after they've nearly rotted away, and send for me to see the dying, as if I could raise them from their beds."

He had stopped suddenly, and looked embarra.s.sed.

"I beg your pardon," he said. "I should not have spoken of these things.

They are all a part of the game. I daresay I ought to have gone up on the hill, back of the cliffs, and had a good bout of bad language all to myself, where none could hear me."

Neither the parson nor his wife appeared to be the least bit shocked at this. They knew from long experience the things that try men's souls.

"I'm glad you've spoken," I told him. "It has relieved you, I'm sure, and we all sympathize with you."

Long ago, Aunt Jennie, you told me that a man is nothing but a grown-up boy. This one looked around the room. Daddy was smiling at him in his dear friendly fashion, and the other two were kindliness itself.

"A fellow doesn't always take his medicine like a little man," he said, apologetically, "and you're all ever so good."