every one crowded around as the boat drew up and two men jumped out. “are you from beatty’s island?” inquired more than one.
“right you are,” was the reply. “young man came in along about three o’clock, been rowing pretty near all night, he said; was nigh all in, got off his course, kinder foggy for a time, but he got back again. beats me how he done it, not being used to these waters, but he said he knew which way the wind blew,—lots of sense he had,—and steered according. i take off my hat to a landsman that could make his way in the dark like that. of course any of us men could do it, being as much at home on these waters as ashore.”
“but where is he? where is he?” ellen interrupted eagerly.
the man chuckled. “lady by name o’ crump’s got him in tow, stowed him away in bed, sot a big nigger to watch that he didn’t get away, come down herself and routed us up, told us a party was marooned off here and we’d got to come after ’em, which we was willing to do. we was going out to draw out lowbster pots anyway. what’s wrong? engine gone dead on you?”
“juice gave out,” replied alvin shortly.
“ah-h, i see; that does happen in the best regerlated families, sometimes, specially when you hev a load of pretty wimmin folks along,” said the man with a sly wink at tom.
“wal, if juice is all you want, we can load you up and go about our business,” said the second man. “no, glad to accommodate you.” he shook his head as alvin tendered more than the price of the gasoline. “so long.”
the gasoline provided, the men went off to their lobster pots, and the marooned party consumed the remnants of yesterday’s feast before they set out for home, tom having built a fire and made coffee earlier.
“for shipwrecked mariners cast away on a desert island i think we are faring pretty well,” remarked hettie. “who was the foresighted person who thought to provide extra coffee?”
“ellen, of course,” answered mabel. “she always thinks of the useful things; useful ellen we call her.”
“don’t give me the credit,” ellen protested. “it is all cousin rindy’s training.”
“but there had to be something to build on,” mabel asserted.
the last of the provisions disappeared before they started off, bert in no wise unwilling to despatch large slices of cake at that hour of the morning. so, cheered and sustained, they made a quiet journey without any regrets because of the adventure, now that it was over. mrs. olmstead was the only grumbler, but nobody listened to her, and they arrived at their wharf quite cheerful.
to their surprise it was reed who was first to greet them. “why, we thought you were in bed under strict guard,” said ellen as he helped her ashore; “behind locked doors we understood.”
“so i was, but fortunately there were windows from which i escaped. miss rindy believes i am still peacefully sleeping.”
“you should have had a good rest after that terrible trip.”
“it wasn’t terrible, rather exciting, and i was pretty well tuckered out when i reached here, but i’ve had a good sleep and am ‘pert as a lizard.’ but, tell me, how did you get along?”
“very well indeed. that good tom clayton just laid himself out to do everything in his power to make us comfortable.”
“i told you he was a mighty good sort. as soon as you’re rested, cronette, and have had your breakfast i have something to tell you.” he looked at her gravely.
“i’m not a bit tired and i’ve had breakfast, thank you. tell me now.”
“no, i don’t want to hurry over it. we must have a quiet place and a quiet hour.”
“you look so serious; i hope it isn’t bad news.”
“it is in one way, but not in another.”
“you rouse my curiosity to the highest pitch. let’s hurry.”
miss rindy was as astonished to see reed as she was glad to see ellen. “i’d like to know where you came from!” she exclaimed as the two entered. “i told you not to get up till noon, and i told beulah to lock that door.”
“you forgot there are windows, a porch roof, and posts, dear madam.”
“don’t you madam me; i’m a spinster, you sly, crafty youth. well, ellen, you did get back safe, thanks to this boy. i hope you’re none the worse for your outing.”
“not a bit. i hope you are none the worse for your vigil.”
“as if i wasn’t used to sitting up all night. i did it times without number over there in france, and often enough before that.” she was not going to let ellen think that she had been anxious about her.
here mabel, accompanied by tom, entered. “i feel as if i had been away a year,” exclaimed the girl. “i hope i find you well, miss crump.”
“as well as anybody could feel after all this hulla-baloo. getting me up at the dead hours of the night with a crazy tale of castaways.”
“oh, but you were up already, miss rindy,” declared reed.
“well, i hadn’t gone to bed, that’s true. i must have fallen asleep in my chair, and didn’t realize the time.” she gave a little laugh, which belied her words, and then turned the subject by saying that they must have some breakfast; and, in spite of the fact that all insisted that they needed none, she set aside their assertions, claiming that she and reed wanted some if nobody else did, so all sat down together, and, with new appetites, whetted by their morning trip on the water, did justice to beulah’s waffles.
an hour later reed and ellen sought a sheltered corner under the shadow of a great rock. just as they were leaving the house mabel ran after them, waving a letter. “miss rindy says she forgot to give you this; it came in the mail after we left yesterday.”
ellen took the letter, glanced at the typewritten address, and slipped it into the pocket of the coat she wore. then, with reed, she seated herself. “now tell me your news,” she said.
reed was silent for a moment, then he drew from his pocket a letter which he spread out upon his knee. “this is from uncle pete’s lawyer,” he said.
“don pedro’s lawyer? what’s he writing to you about? have you been doing anything reprehensible?” ellen asked flippantly.
“no. one doesn’t always receive letters from lawyers because of misdemeanors; there are such things as wills, you know.”
ellen stared at him for a moment in speechless silence; then, as a possible meaning of his words reached her, she gasped, “you don’t mean—you can’t mean that dear don pedro is—is——”
reed nodded. “he was taken ill in the mountains where he was spending the summer, and lived but a few days.”
ellen covered her face with her hands, then raised wet eyes to reed’s grave face. “your letter, what does it say?”
“it tells me that to his godson and namesake he has left the contents of his studio, including all his pictures except such as are bequeathed to some one mentioned in another clause of the will. he also leaves me ten thousand dollars.”
“but you said his namesake,” returned ellen, looking puzzled.
“my legal name is peter reed marshall. uncle pete didn’t like the name of peter, so i dropped it and always have been called reed.”
“dear don pedro,” murmured ellen with a faraway look. “how we shall miss him! it was fine for him to remember you in that way. i am glad he did.”
“it was just like him to do it. he has always encouraged me to go on with my studies, even when it was hard sledding and it looked as if i couldn’t make my way. he always came to my rescue, and told me not to sell my soul for mammon.”
again ellen looked puzzled. “but i thought you were very well off. i never dreamed that you had any sort of struggle.”
“what made you think so?”
“why, the violin. you paid a good price for it, you know, and how could you, if money wasn’t easy to get?”
reed flushed up. “you’ve caught me, cronette. i paid for it with the check uncle pete gave me for christmas, and he made up the rest. he wanted me to have it if you couldn’t keep it, said it should not go to a stranger. he knew how i longed for it.”
“dear, dear don pedro,” again sighed ellen.
“you wanted me to have it, didn’t you, cronette?”
“oh, i did, you know i did, and now, since i know you so well, i am more than ever glad.”
“it brought us together, and so i value it more than ever,” said reed softly. “cronette, i think you’d better look at your letter. from the look of the envelope i believe it is from that same lawyer.”
ellen hurriedly drew forth the letter, opened it, read it hastily, then, after handing it to reed, buried her face in her hands.
“don’t cry, dear,” she heard reed say in a few minutes; and he drew her hands away from her face, gently enfolding them in his.
“but—but,” quavered ellen, “i can’t help it. it was so lovely of him to think of me in that way, to leave me the pictures my father painted and that he bought at the sale when mother had to part with everything. and to leave me five thousand dollars, too. i can’t help being overcome.”
“no, of course you can’t. the lawyer says there is a letter of instructions, and that he will forward me a copy of the part that concerns me. perhaps you will get one, too. i know uncle pete often spoke of having an exhibition of his pictures and your father’s, a joint affair. we must follow out his wishes, cronette.”
ellen agreed with him, and they sat a long time talking over this unlooked-for situation. little curling waves rippled in at their feet, “nosing around among the rocks like a dog,” said reed. he looked off over the blue expanse to the hazy horizon line. “and over there is spain,” he said musingly. “i want to go there some day, don’t you?”
“there are many, many places i should like to go, but i shall never leave cousin rindy while she needs me; if she could go, too, that would be another thing.”
reed made no answer, but continued to look off across the sea. meanwhile miss rindy and mabel, all unaware of the subject which so engrossed the two outside, were talking of ellen.
“i wish you would encourage ellen to spend the winter with me,” mabel began. “she has so much talent and could study at the peabody, go to the concerts, and all that. she should have a musical career, don’t you think?”
miss rindy answered after a pause. “i’m not sure that it would be the wise thing. what would your grandmother think of it, of ellen making a convenience of her house?”
“oh, i don’t think gran would mind. i must admit that she is something of a snob, a thing i despise, and that while she is generous in giving where it doesn’t mean a sacrifice on her part, she doesn’t care to give of herself.”
“and giving of one’s self is the only real unselfishness,” miss rindy interrupted. “if ellen couldn’t make as good an appearance as your other friends, and couldn’t return her obligations, i would rather she did not go, certainly not for a whole winter. she has talent, maybe, but she isn’t a great genius, and only that could compensate.”
“but she is such a dear,” returned mabel wistfully. “no one could help loving her, for she has what is known as charm.”
“she has her faults, but then no one is perfect, and i don’t expect her to be. there is one thing i may say, and that is, she is the only person in the world to whom i come first. i never did come first to any one till ellen entered my life. i never was much considered in my own home, therefore you can understand that ellen, her happiness, her future, mean a lot to me.”
“i do understand,” returned mabel feelingly, for she thought miss rindy’s statements very pathetic; “and i can say one thing, and that is, she never for one moment forgets what you have done for her.”
“gratitude is such a rare thing, especially in one as young as ellen, that the fact makes me the more anxious to safeguard her.”
“but you do want her to follow a musical career, don’t you?”
“so far as it may be necessary for her happiness. i don’t want her to expect great things and then fail in the accomplishment, to risk all and fail. she’d better be a big frog in a little puddle than try to be a bigger frog in a puddle where she’d be crowded out. in other words, she will always be able to make a living in marshville, while she might starve in the city.”
“oh, but marshville!”
“it isn’t a bad place to live, but if straws show which way the wind blows she won’t always live there.”
“do you mean?”
“i mean what i mean. time will show. from all indications i should say she will live there for some years yet.”
“and i hope all her summers, yours, too, and mine, can be spent up here. you will come next year, won’t you, miss rindy? don’t you like it, and haven’t we had a happy, free time?”
miss rindy gave her attention to counting stitches on the knitting she had in hand, then she answered: “you have given us a wonderful time, my dear, but in my experience it isn’t best to expect to repeat one’s good times. things are seldom twice the same. something is sure to happen that will alter conditions. in this world the only thing you can count on is change.”
“well, one thing can be counted upon, and that is my desire to repeat this summer’s experiences.”
“that may be your desire at this moment, but it may not be six months hence. we all may be a thousand miles apart by next year; one can never tell. that vocation you are so fond of talking about may take you to china or—somewhere else,” she added with a chuckle.
before mabel could expostulate ellen came in. she went directly to her cousin, and, opening her letter, laid it before her. “read that,” she said.
miss rindy hastily glanced over it “why, ellen! why, ellen!” she exclaimed. “what a surprise! i am sorry that dear good man is gone, but i can’t help being glad for you.”
“mayn’t i come in on the surprise?” asked mabel eagerly.
“what did i say about changes?” miss rindy returned, as she handed over the letter which mabel read immediately.
“of course it isn’t a fortune,” she commented, “but if those pictures sell well, it will swell the sum. i must spread the news abroad and get all my friends interested. i’ll buy one myself, and make gran do the same, so you can count on two purchasers, at least.”
“where is reed?” asked miss rindy. “does he know about this?”
“he does indeed, for he is mentioned in the will, too.” then she told of what had been left to reed. “he has gone to hunt up tom,” she informed them.
“so probably we have seen the last of them this day,” remarked miss rindy with one of her twisted smiles. “i declare when i think of that boy rowing nearly all night out in that fog, i don’t know what to say.”
“i say he is a he-man,” responded mabel. “i thought tom was about the nicest ever, but now i may change my mind.”
“take care,” miss rindy spoke warningly.
“of what or whom?” inquired mabel.
“you should know without me saying,” replied miss rindy.
“well,” both girls flushed up, “i want to see him to congratulate him,” said mabel. “isn’t he coming back, ellen?”
“this afternoon, but please don’t congratulate him. we have both lost a dear friend, and just now we can think only of that.”
“of course, dear, i should have remembered.” mabel spoke regretfully, and went over to put her arm around ellen. both girls had gained in weight and color. a row of tiny freckles had appeared on the bridge of ellen’s nose, but her cheeks were rosy and her eyes bright, while mabel was tanned and had lost a listless air which had been hers on her arrival.
miss rindy, looking at them, remarked upon their exuberant health. “this place surely doesn’t owe us anything,” she remarked. “i never saw such improvement in two beings, and as for myself i feel like a four-year-old. as for beulah, she’s grown so fat she can scarcely waddle, and such an appetite! i don’t see how we can afford to feed her when we get back.”
“oh, yes, we can, now,” ellen assured her. “no doubt she will lose her appetite when she gets away from this stimulating air.”
“only another week of it,” sighed mabel. “the palmers have gone, the truesdells are beginning to pack up, and pretty soon all the lights alongshore will be out. aunt zenobia simpson says she hates to see the last one go, but a lot of the natives are glad when they can have their island to themselves, and i don’t blame them. i suppose reed and tom are over at h. h.,” which was the way they spoke of the haunted house among themselves.
“yes, reed said there was a lot to do there. they want us to go over for a parting supper there to-morrow.”
“it is a dear place,” mabel spoke reminiscently. “i’d like nothing better than to come up here every summer with you two and be sure that those boys would be over there. we have had such good times together. oh, why can’t good times last forever?”
“they would cease to be good times after a while, and become only monotonous ones,” observed miss rindy sagely.
the next day brought them to their final visit to the little studio across the bridge, where a greater feast than usual was spread. the young artists gave each guest one of their sketches as a parting souvenir, reed played a farewell rhapsody, and they went slowly home, lingering to watch a young moon, escorted by the evening star, dip down behind the line of peaked firs.
the sea was a little rough and boomed upon the rocks, a big wave once in a while hissing in, breaking thunderously, and then subsiding into a line of foam which was beginning to form creamy balls of spindrift.
as they stepped upon the porch a dark form arose from the steps. it was beulah, who had been watching the surf. “dat wahtah sutt’nly do bus’ up pretty,” was her remark as she followed the party into the house.
