an intensely blue sea embracing green islands, gray rocks against which sometimes curled, sometimes dashed, white-crested waves; a sky softly blue in the daytime, often rosy-flecked at sunset, at night a splendid background for myriad stars which never before seemed so near and so bright; peaked fir trees, song sparrows singing from the housetops, robins calling cheerfully from grassy hummocks, all these so impressed ellen that it was with difficulty that she could bring herself to make a practical application of her mind to such affairs as her cousin demanded.
the house, though small, gave ample room for even beulah. it was still cool enough in the evenings to light the logs in the big fireplace, and the days were long enough to afford time for walks in the morning, sailing in the afternoon, and supper on the rocks before dark.
miss rindy was in her element in the exercise of her executive powers, and beulah burst forth into song at intervals, thus showing her content with the situation.
however, the latter met her waterloo the first time that lobsters were to be served for supper. she appeared at the door of the living-room gingerly holding a lobster in each hand, gripping a claw firmly with a dish towel. “law, miss rindy,” she exclaimed, “what kin’ o’ bugs is dese? i skeered o’ ’em. boy fetch ’em in an’ say yuh-alls order ’em. what good is dey, miss rindy, ma’am?”
“why, good to eat,” answered miss rindy. “did you never see a lobster, beulah?”
“i hears miss mabel talk ’bout live br’iled lobster. is dey daid?” beulah regarded them suspiciously.
“of course. i wouldn’t undertake, myself, to boil them, so i had mrs. simpson do it for us; it is an everyday matter with her. you’ve heard the saying, ‘red as a boiled lobster,’ haven’t you?”
“i ’specs i has, but i doesn’t recomember. anyway, miss rindy, yuh doesn’t ketch me eatin’ dem evil-eyed critturs. how yuh eats ’em? dey is hard as rocks.”
“you open them as you do crabs, and take out the meat,” miss rindy explained. “you’ve prepared crabs many a time, beulah.”
“oh, yas’m, i has, but i skeered to tackle dese owdacious-lookin’ critturs. i knows crabs, but i nuver had de presentations of dese yere lobsters.” she bore them back to the kitchen.
“now what’s to be done?” said miss rindy. “do you know anything about opening lobsters, miss wickham?”
“i’m afraid i don’t. it has never been a part of my education.”
“nor mine. i don’t want you all to be poisoned by getting hold of some deadly part,” returned miss rindy.
“why not take them up to mrs. simpson and get her to show us how?” ellen suggested.
“just the ticket,” exclaimed mabel, springing up. “come along, ellen. we’ll take a lesson from mrs. belah, and the next time we’ll show beulah, so we’ll be independent for the rest of the summer.”
they bundled up the lobsters and bore them off to mrs. simpson, who laughed when she learned their errand. that any one should be so ignorant as not to know how to open lobsters was incomprehensible to her. “these city folks don’t know everything,” she confided to her next-door neighbor. however, she was “pleased to accommodate them,” she said, and each girl performed her task creditably under direction.
mrs. belah, or aunt noby, as every one called her, was a gentle old lady who had not outgrown an ancient belief in witches, signs, charms, and ghosts. she had had signs that very morning which indicated that she was to have strange visitors, so she was not in the least surprised when the two girls arrived. there was a horseshoe nailed above the door to keep off witches, for “there do be witches,” she said. as for ghosts, was there not a haunted house on the very next island? every one knew that mysterious noises issued from it at certain times, and more than one had heard footsteps and had actually seen a pale face at the window.
“how fascinating!” cried mabel. “we must go over there and investigate some day, ellen. have you ever been there, aunt noby?”
“not i. nothing would induce me. i’ve no wish to have any dealings with ungodly beings. the bible warns us. wasn’t saul made to suffer because he dealt with familiar spirits? no, no, i cast all such doings from me.”
the girls took their leave, smiling as they went. “isn’t she a dear, old-fashioned thing?” said mabel. “just the same, i mean to explore that house. will you be a sport and go with me, ellen? it will be such an adventure.”
“nothing would suit me better. i’m primed for high adventure.”
“then let’s go this afternoon; there’s no time like the present.”
the matter of lobsters was forgotten in this new excitement, but miss rindy brought back the subject, and the two girls were obliged to explain the anatomy of the creature before they were permitted to talk of anything else.
“one thing at a time,” said miss rindy. “i have a single-track mind, and can’t mix lobsters with haunted houses.”
“but you will go with us, won’t you? please,” ellen begged.
“how far is it?”
“over on the next island.”
“too far for an old limp-and-go-fetch-it like me. don’t stay too late, and don’t let the goblins get you.”
the girls started off in high feather. their way led to the end of beatty’s island, and thence by means of a bridge to minor’s island. wild roses adorned the sides of the road, little ripe strawberries peeped out from the running tendrils of their vines, a sandpiper twittered and ran along ahead of them in frightened endeavor to lead them away from its nest, gulls screamed in noisy combat as they followed in the wake of a fishing boat, but the girls heeded none of these, for their spirits were winged for adventure.
in mabel’s companionship ellen felt happier than she had been since the dear studio days. on this peaceful island all the troubles of the past three years seemed to roll from her; the present was enough, no need to peer into the shadowy future. “ah me, how glorious all this is!” she sighed contentedly. “i wonder if you know, mabel wickham, what it means to me to have you to walk with, to talk to. never have i had such a dear chummy person to delight my soul.”
“same here,” replied mabel promptly. “all my life i’ve been looking for an ellen north, and to think i should have found her simply by putting my finger on a little spot on the map. don’t tell me things just happen; they are ordered, arranged by heaven, or they wouldn’t be so wonderful.”
“so i believe. do you suppose there are any more delightful things waiting for us around the corner?”
“or at the haunted house,” returned mabel laughing.
“that might be, of course. no place is so queer or so insignificant that it cannot hold the germ of a future joy, mr. todd says.”
“what a dear old man he is. i’d like just such a friend, but they don’t seem to come my way. you are a lucky girl, ellen.”
“i believe i am in some directions. certainly i have some wonderful friends, you, for instance.”
“thanks for the compliment; i can return it.”
“i should think you would have the opportunity of making any kind of friend you wished,” said ellen thoughtfully.
“you don’t know how difficult it is. i scarcely ever meet any one who thinks my thoughts or likes my likes. if i do meet any one promising, he or she is whisked away before i have a chance for a better acquaintance. of course i do know some perfectly dear people that i love dearly, but they can’t enter into my interests and ambitions. my dear grandmother thinks i am queer to want a career. she can’t see why i shouldn’t be satisfied with a butterfly existence. i live within sight of the monument, which is a fact that settles my status, to her mind. i can sit at my window and watch the passers-by as they promenade after church, a great privilege, that. i can listen to all the latest gossip about those in my own set. i can go to the best shops and have intimate talks with miss maggie or miss jennie, who will advise me what to buy, and will serve me well because i am my grandmother’s granddaughter. i never have to soil my hands with menial work. i can entertain and be entertained, so what in the world is there left in life to wish for?” mabel laughed a little bitterly. “would that fill your life satisfactorily?” she asked earnestly. “would clothes and fine food and foolish gossip make up the summum bonum of your existence?”
“no, i am sure it wouldn’t, although i haven’t any large contempt for the fine clothes and food. i shall not disdain that lobster salad, for example.”
mabel laughed. “but you have your career all cut out for you, a talent to cultivate which is a gift the fairies did not bestow upon me.”
“how do you know you haven’t a talent? what career appeals to you?”
“something that would be for the good of mankind. i’d like to go into social service, but gran would be horrified, be scared lest i should lower my position in life by washing the faces of dirty little children. i might bring home germs, or some one might see me speaking to one of the lower classes; that would never do. i have thought of teaching, training for some special subject, but it would mean that i might rob one more deserving of a salary. i don’t want to be a secretary, nor do i want to go into business. those who need to make a living should not be thrust aside by those whose living is assured; that is what destroys the balance. so, there you are, ellen. what shall i do?”
“how do you know but your vocation may be that of home-maker?” returned ellen laughing.
“bah! i didn’t expect that of you, ellen. i see no prospect of such a career at present. i am twenty years old, and it is time i was turning my attention to something definite. it is all very well for you to talk, who know exactly what you are going to do.”
“what am i going to do?”
“cultivate your musical talents, your lovely voice and all that. go to the city and study, of course.”
“and desert cousin rindy? oh, no, i couldn’t do that. i shall stand by in marshville as long as she needs me. when she doesn’t, i’ll begin to think of something else.”
“but you wouldn’t have to desert her; she could go to the city with you and take a little apartment.”
“do you think we are bloated bond-holders? no, no, marshville must be my home as long as it is cousin rindy’s.”
mabel looked troubled, but had no answer just then, for the haunted house was before them. it was a dingy, ramshackle building, gray and deserted; broken slats flapped in the shutters, doors sagged on their hinges, and one dead limb of a scraggy tree scraped the moss-grown roof at every gust of wind.
the two girls, however, did not hesitate to approach by way of a grass-grown walk. “it does look the character,” observed mabel as they paused on the sunken door-step, “yet it must have been rather a nice old place in its day. shall we go in?”
“why not? the hants won’t be waiting for us outside.”
“they won’t be inside either, unless i miss my guess.”
“that’s what we came ‘for to see.’”
the sagging front door did not yield to their efforts to open it. “probably is nailed up,” suggested mabel. “let’s go around to the back.” this they did, and found an entrance through a low door, which led into a shed, which, in turn, opened into a large kitchen where a battered stove and some broken chairs stood. “it’s evident that no one has lived here for a long time,” remarked mabel, looking around.
“no one but spiders,” returned ellen, looking up at the cobwebs which draped the corners of the room. “let’s go on, mabel.”
they went from room to room, finding only a few bits of old furniture, and hearing only the tap-tap of the gaunt branch upon the roof, the creak of broken shutters, and the whir of wings in the chimney.
“swallows,” exclaimed ellen, “chimney-swifts they call them. maybe they are the ghosts.”
mabel opened a door which disclosed a flight of steps leading to the attic, but she closed it quickly. “don’t go up,” she cried, as something came swooping toward her. “the house has bats in its belfry.”
ellen laughed and turned toward a cupboard whose door she opened. “a discovery! a discovery!” she cried. “come here, mabel. see what i’ve found.”
mabel hurried over to the corner where ellen stood examining something she held in her hand. “what is it? what is it?” mabel inquired.
“a card with a name and a date. some one has been here this year before us. see.”
mabel took the card and read, “compliments to the ghost.” then followed the initials r. m., the date, and the engraved name robert macdonald. “what a lark!” she exclaimed. “i wonder who robert is. he has an imagination, whoever he may be.”
“let’s write something on the back of the card and leave it,” suggested ellen. “we’ll come back some day and see what happens.”
“done,” agreed mabel.
after consultation they decided to write: “thanks for compliments. with hopes for a better acquaintance, the ghost.”
“that will whet robert’s curiosity if he ever comes here again,” declared mabel.
“and it is a sort of adventure for us,” responded ellen. “i rather hope he will come again, don’t you, mabel?”
“yes, for it will be sort of exciting for us to follow up the affair. we must make it as mysterious as possible, and never, never let on that we have anything to do with it.”
they laid the card back on the dusty shelf and left the gloomy house, laughing and excited in the possession of a secret.
the summer cottages were beginning to fill up, guests were arriving at the boarding-houses, consequently there was always a crowd at the post-office when the mail was sorted. the steamboat which brought it had just steamed off when the girls reached the long flight of steps which led to the wharf. they threaded their way through the crowd which was thronging the small store. most took advantage of the hour to do their marketing, since fresh supplies generally came on the boat, so the boxes and crates received attention until it was time for the little post-office window to be opened.
ellen and mabel took their places in line. a young man, looking over his shoulder, stepped aside. “take my place,” he said; “i’m not in a hurry.” he raised his hat and walked off while they moved up, and presently, loaded up with letters, papers, two bottles of milk, and a box of strawberries, they started for home.
“that was a nice, polite somebody,” remarked mabel; “i wonder who he is.”
“robert macdonald maybe,” returned ellen laughing.
“wouldn’t it be funny if he were? i suppose we could find out. would you ask?”
“oh, no, don’t; it would spoil our secret. let’s keep up the mystery for a while longer. if it should be he, we would feel sort of conscious; and if it isn’t, there is no harm done.”
“i reckon you’re right. i rather like his looks, whatever his name may be. we’ll leave it this way: if we meet him around, we’ll probably find out all about him. if he should prove to be robert, we can keep our own counsel and he will have no way of identifying us, so there you are. there may nothing more come of it, for it is quite likely that he will never pay another visit to the haunted house.”
“i shall be really disappointed if he doesn’t. it would be such fun if he were to answer our message.”
“i wouldn’t count on it.”
“well, i shall try to restrain my curiosity for a week, but no longer. a week from to-day i go again. what do you say?”
“i say we don’t set any time, but just leave the whole thing to chance. we’ll go again when it’s convenient, whether it be to-morrow, next week, or the week after. it is more fun to have it chancy like that.”
ellen agreed that it would be so, and they went on to deliver their supplies to miss rindy.
“we brought a box of strawberries, but there wasn’t any cream to-day. mr. nevins says it must have been put off on one of the other islands,” ellen explained.
“dear me!” exclaimed miss rindy. “that’s just the way it goes. yesterday they lost our mackerel out of the wagon and some one picked it up on the road, and to-day this happens. well, we can have strawberry shortcake for supper, and as soon as i can get around to it i’ll go up to portland and lay in a lot of supplies, things that can’t be had here. it is rather disconcerting, but i’ve been up against worse situations over in france.”
“i think it’s rather fun not to know exactly what you are going to have, something like a game in which you don’t know just how you will come out.”
“that’s one way to look at it,” returned miss rindy. “suppose you turn to and hull these strawberries while beulah is making the shortcake; then i can attend to the rest of the supper. did you have a good walk?”
“fine,” ellen answered, but she said no word of the haunted house.
