The Spanish Chest Part 9

"Right we are!" said the young man cheerily. "Now I wonder if you can slide down."

Still speechless, Frances did so. The young man swung himself from the saddle and turned to lift Edith from her perch as though she was a little child. Again on firm ground, she began to utter incoherent thanks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "HE'LL COME FOR US! HE MEANS US TO CLIMB THIS ROCK AND WAIT"]

"I think you must be strangers to the island," he said rather gravely, "else you would know that the Jersey tides come in as rapidly as they ebb. This isn't a safe coast to experiment with."

"It was the anemones," began Frances. "We never saw any before and forgot to watch the water."

The young man smiled. "Those anemones!" he said. "I was once in a similar fix for the same reason. Better remember that the only safe time to watch sea anemones is when the tide is just going out. There's a place up here where the farmer's wife is a friend of mine. I think you'd better let me take you over to Mother Trott and she'll dry you out."

"I'm not wet," said Edith. "Frances fell, that's why she's drippy."

"Oh, but Win!" Frances exclaimed. "He'll find that note saying we're on the rocks and he'll see the water and be frightened. My brother," she added to the stranger, who was looking at her inquiringly. "He's in the meadow."

The young man's clear gray eyes grew rather stern. "And what is this brother doing while his little sister gets into danger?" he asked.

"Oh, it's not his fault. He was asleep and he _mustn't_ be frightened," Fran began. She spoke rapidly, her explanation banishing from the inquirer's face all look of disapproval.

"I'll go and tell Win," said Edith. "I'm not a bit wet. You go on to the farm, Frances. Which house is it?"

"Do you see the long low one with the vines about half a mile up the hill?" replied their rescuer. "That's it."

"If Win's still asleep, for goodness' sake don't wake him,"

directed Frances as Edith set off toward the castle. "Perhaps I can get dry and be there before he need know what has happened."

"Would you be willing to ride in front of me again, Miss Frances?"

asked the young man, as Edith vanished around the wall. "We could reach the farm much more quickly."

Without demur, Frances consented. She felt queerly shaken and ill and to her consternation, as Saracen crossed the highroad and entered the farm lane, a sudden burst of sobs overcame her. She struggled bravely to control herself.

"That was a beastly experience," said the pleasant voice, "but you were so near sh.o.r.e when Saracen and I saw you, that you'd probably have made it with merely a wetting."

"We haven't really thanked you," said Frances incoherently. "I do --so much--Mother--"

"Thank Saracen. He did it. It's nothing at all, and you mustn't let it trouble you. h.e.l.lo, Tylo. Been off again on your own?"

Obedient to touch, his horse stopped at the cottage gate. Frances slid from her perch and the young man dismounted, throwing the reins to the beach dog, whose sudden reappearance did not surprise nor interest Frances, as ordinarily it would have done.

"Come round to the back," said her companion, opening the gate.

"Mother Trott will probably be in her kitchen. She'll put you to rights in no time. No mess too bad for her to take on."

CHAPTER VII

MR. MAX

Frances accompanied her guide along a pebbled path neatly edged with big scallop-sh.e.l.ls measuring fully six inches across. Beside the walk stretched garden borders still gay with geraniums, j.a.ponicas and other hardy plants in full bloom. As they pa.s.sed the front door of the cottage with its whitewashed steps gleaming in the afternoon sun, a roughly outlined heart surrounding some initials caught Frances' attention. The design was carved in the stone top of the door-frame and looked very old.

"That's a pretty custom of the island," said her companion, noticing Fran's glance. "The people who first made a home had their initials cut over the door. Many of the Jersey farmhouses have several sets of initials on the door-stones."

Around the corner of the house lay a neat kitchen garden full of vegetables in thrifty green rows, a patch of the curious cabbages and in a field just over a fence, was tethered a pretty, soft-eyed Jersey cow. Beside the entrance stood a bench glittering with shiny copper pails and milk-cans.

Without stopping to knock, the young man stepped directly into a clean, low-ceiled kitchen, where white sand was scattered on the stone floor.

"Are you there, Mrs. Trott?" he inquired.

Hastily setting down the pan of potatoes she was peeling, a pleasant-looking stout woman rose to her feet with a curtsy.

"If it isn't Mr. Max!" she exclaimed, her voice expressing both surprise and delight.

"And as usual seeking help, Mrs. Trott. This young lady, Miss Frances, has been unlucky enough to be overtaken by the tides--"

"Poor dear!" interrupted Mrs. Trott. "Bess!" she called, "come you down. Ah, 'tis the tides that make the Jersey heartaches. Ye did quite right to bring her, Mr. Max. Bess, be quick!"

A rosy-cheeked girl of seventeen came clattering down the tiny stair, to smile at the visitors and drop an awkward, blushing curtsy to each.

"Why, Bess, you're quite grown up," said the young man, smiling back at her.

"A year does make a differ, sir," said Mrs. Trott. "Lead the young leddy up the stair, Bess, and dry her feet and give her your Sunday socks and shoon. Mr. Max, you'll drink tea? Sure, now, and taste my fresh wonders. The young leddy'll be down directly and a cup of tea will set her up."

"Indeed, I could do with some tea, Mrs. Trott, and I've not had any wonders since--"

Frances did not hear the end of the sentence for she was following Bess up the narrow, winding stone stairs to emerge in a little room with slanting caves and dormer windows in its thatched roof.

The place was bare but spotlessly clean and through the open western cas.e.m.e.nt shimmered the blue sea.

"Sit down, Miss," said Bess in a soft voice with curious musical intonations that made up for imperfect p.r.o.nunciation.

With a sigh of relief, Frances sank into the straight chair. The reaction from her late adventure was still upon her. Before she knew what was happening, Bess approached with a basin of water and a towel, and knelt to unfasten the soaked shoes.

"Oh, I can do that for myself," Frances protested with the independence of an American girl.

"Sit ye still, Miss," said Bess pleasantly. "'Tis bad for the nerves to race the tides. It shakes one a good bit."

Her deft fingers made short work of their task. Presently, Frances was comfortable in white cotton stockings and black slippers far too large and wide.

"Twill serve," said Bess, smiling at the way they slid around on Fran's slender feet. "Dry at least. Now come ye down and drink your tea. 'Tis not lately we've seen Mr. Max. Mother'll be rarely pleased."

Frances had it on her tongue's end to inquire into the ident.i.ty of her rescuer, but the difficulty of keeping on those heavy leather shoes with their big silver buckles distracted her attention. She came carefully down the stair to find Mr. Max seated on the big black oak settle, his hat and riding-crop beside him and Mrs.

Trott arranging her table before the fire.

"Come, Miss, to your tea," she exclaimed. "Bess, fetch the cream."

Frances tried to protest, feeling already under great obligations to these total strangers, but Mr. Max promptly rose to give her a seat.

"Tea will do you good, Miss Frances," he said with a most engaging smile. "Try Mrs. Trott's wonders. Have you ever eaten a Jersey wonder?"