CHAPTER I THE RAPSCALLION
The
sea glittered in all directions. The grassy field, humpy with knolls
and lumpy with gray rock, sloped down toward the near-by water.
Bunches of savin and bay and groups of Christmas trees flourished in
the fresh June air, and exhilarating balsamic odors assailed Miss
Burridge's nostrils as she stood in the doorway viewing the landscape
o'er and reflectively picking her teeth with a pin."It's
an awful sightly place to fail in, anyway," she thought.Her
one boarder came and stood beside her. She was a young woman with a
creamy skin, regular features, dark, dreaming eyes, and a pleasant,
slow smile."Are
you gathering inspiration, Miss Burridge?" she asked, settling a
white tam-o'-shanter on her smooth brown locks."I
hope so, Miss Wilbur. I need it.""How
could any one help it!" was Diana Wilbur's soft exclamation, as
she took a deep breath and gazed at the illimitable be-diamonded
blue.Priscilla
Burridge turned her middle-aged gaze upon the enthusiasm of the
twentieth year beside her."Do
you know of any inspiration that would make me able to get the
carpenter to come and jack up the saggin' corner of that piazza?"
she asked. "Or get the plumber to mend the broken pipe in the
kitchen?"Miss
Wilbur's dreaming gaze came back to the bony figure in brown calico."It
seems almost sacrilege, doesn't it," she said in a voice of awe,
"to speak of carpenters and plumbers in a place like this? Such
odors, such crystal beauty untouched by the desecrating hand of man."Miss
Priscilla snorted. "If I don't get hold of the desecrating hand
of man pretty soon, you'll be havin' a stream o' water come down on
your bed, the first rain."The
girl's attitude of adoration remained unchanged."I
noticed that little rift," she said slowly. "As I lay in
bed this morning, I looked up at a spot of sapphire that seemed like
a day-star full of promise of this transcendent beauty."Miss
Wilbur's pretty lips moved but little when she spoke and her slow
utterance gave the effect of a recitation.Miss
Priscilla, for all her harassment, could not forbear a smile."I'm
certainly glad you're so easily pleased, but you don't know Casco Bay
as well as I do, or that day-star would look powerful stormy to you.
When it rains here, all other rains are mere imitations. It comes
down from the sky and up from the ground, and the wind blows it east
and west, and the porch furniture turns somersets out into the field,
and windows and doors go back on you and give up the fight and let
the water in everywhere, while the thunder rolls like the day o'
judgment."The
ardent light in the depths of the young girl's eyes glowed deeper."I
should expect a storm here to be inexorably superb!" she
declared.Miss
Priscilla heaved a sigh, half dejection, half exasperation, and
turned into the house."Drat
that plumber!" she said. "I've only had a few days of it,
but I'm sick of luggin' water in from that well.""Why,
Miss Burridge," said her boarder solicitously, "I haven't
fully realized—let me bring in a supply.""No,
no, indeed, Miss Wilbur," exclaimed Miss Priscilla, as she moved
through the living-room of the house into the kitchen, closely
followed by Diana. "It ain't that I ain't able to do it, but it
makes me darned mad when I know there's no need of it.""But
I desire to, Miss Burridge," averred the young girl. "Any
form of movement here cannot fail to be one of joy." She seized
an empty bucket from the sink and went out the back door.Small
groves of evergreen dotted the incline behind the house, and on the
right hand soon became a wood-road of stately fir and spruce, which
led to a sun-warmed grassy slope which, like every hill of the lovely
isle, led down to the jagged rocks that fringed its irregular shore."My
muscular strength is not excessive," panted Diana, struggling up
to the back door with her heavy bucket. "I'll fill it only
half-full next time.""You
ain't goin' to fill it at all," declared Miss Priscilla
emphatically, taking the pail from her. "That'll last me a long
time, and when it's gone, I'll get more myself. 'T ain't that it does
me a bit of hurt, but it riles me when I know there ain't any need of
it."She
set the pail down beside the sink, filled the kettle from it, and set
it on the oil stove while Diana sat down on the back doorstep. Then
she proceeded:"One
o' the most disagreeable things about this world is that we do seem
to need men. They're strong and they don't wear skirts to stumble on,
and when they're willin' and clever, they certainly do fill a need;
but it does seem as if they were created to disappoint women. They
don't know any more about keepin' their promises than they do about
the other side o' the moon."Diana
nodded. "It is observable, I think," she said, "that
men's natural regard for ethics is inferior to that of women."Miss
Priscilla sniffed. "Now it isn't only the plumber and the
carpenter. I came here and saw 'em both over a month ago and
explained my needs; explained that I ain't calc'latin' to take in
boarders to break their legs on broken piazzas, or drown 'em in their
beds. I explained all this when I rented the house, and when I
arrived this week I naturally expected to find those things attended
to; and there's Phil Barrison, too. I've known him most of his life.
He has relatives here on the island, and when I heard he was comin'
to stay with 'em on his vacation, I asked him if he wouldn't be a
kind of a handy-man to me and he said he would. He got here before I
did, but far as I can make out he's been fishin' ever since. A lot of
help he's been. Oh, I knew well enough he was a broken reed. If ever
a rapscallion lived, Phil's it. 'Tain't natural for any young one to
be so smart as he was. Do you believe in school he found out that by
openin' and shuttin' his geography real slow, he could set the
teacher to yawnin', and, of course, she'd set the rest of 'em off,
and Phil just had a beautiful time. His pranks was always funny
ones."Diana
Wilbur gave her slow, rare smile. "What an interesting bit of
hypnosis!" she remarked."Hey?
Well, when that boy got older, he was real ambitious to study. He's
got one o' those voices that ought to belong to a cherubim instead of
a limb like him, and he wanted lessons. So he got the job of janitor
in our church one winter. I got onto him later. When he'd oversleep
some awful cold mornin' and arrive too late to get the furnace to
workin' right, that rascal would drive the mercury up and loosen the
bulb of the thermometer so that when the folks came in and went over
to it to see just how cold they
was goin' to be,
they'd see it register over sixty-five and of course they'd take
their seats real satisfied."Miss
Wilbur smiled again. "Your friend certainly showed great
resource and ingenuity. When those traits are joined to lofty
principle, they should lift him to heights of success. Oh,"—the
speaker's attitude and voice suddenly changed, and she lifted her
finger to impose silence on the cooking utensils which Miss Burridge
was dropping into the sink,—"listen!"Mingled
with the roulade of a song sparrow on the roof, came the flute of a
human voice sounding and approaching through the field."Thou'rt
like unto a flower,So
pure, so sweet, so fair—"The
one road of the island swept over a height at some distance behind
the house and the singer had left it, and was striding down the
incline and through the meadow toward Miss Burridge's. The still air
brought the song while the singer was still hidden, but at last the
girl saw him, and the volume of rich tone increased. At last he came
bounding up the slope over which Diana had struggled with her heavy
bucket a few minutes before, and then paused at sight of the
stranger.He
was a tall, broad-shouldered youth in a dark-blue flannel shirt and
nondescript trousers. He was bareheaded, and locks of his thick blond
hair were tumbling over his forehead. He looked at Diana with
curious, unembarrassed blue eyes, and, lips parted, stopped in the
act of speaking.Miss
Burridge came to the door. "Well, at last, Phil," she
remarked."I
only just heard this morning that you had come," he said.
"Here's a peace offering." He lifted the two mackerel that
were hanging from his hand."Beauties,"
vouchsafed Miss Burridge. "Are they cleaned?""Well,
if you don't look a gift horse—""Well,
now, I ain't goin' to clean 'em," said Miss Burridge doggedly.
"I've been rubbed the wrong way ever since I landed—"Philip
laughed. "And you won't do it to them, eh? Well, I guess I can
rub 'em the wrong way for you—" His unabashed eyes were still
regarding Diana as impersonally as though they had both been children
of five."Excuse
me, I am obstructing the passage," said the girl, rising."This
is Miss Diana Wilbur, Phil. I suppose you're Mr. Barrison now that
you have sung in New York."The
young fellow bowed to the girl who acknowledged the greeting."What
is the name of those beautiful creatures?" she asked with her
usual gentle simplicity of manner."These?
Oh, these are mackerel.""Jewels
of the deep, surely," she said."They
are rather dressy," returned Philip.Diana
bathed him in the light of her serene brown gaze."I
am so ignorant of the names of the denizens of the sea," she
said. "I come from Philadelphia."Philip
returned her look with dancing stars in his eyes. "I'd have said
Boston if you only wore eyeglasses.""Oh,
that is
the humorous tradition, is it not?" she returned."Now,
don't you drip 'em in here," said Miss Burridge, as the young
fellow started to enter the kitchen door. "If you're really
goin' to be clever and clean 'em, I'll give you the knife and
everything right outdoors.""Then
I think I would better withdraw," said Diana hastily. "I
cannot bear to see the mutilation of such a rich specimen of Nature's
handiwork; but, oh, Mr. Barrison, not without one word concerning the
heavenly song that floated across the field as you came. Miss
Burridge calls you Phil;—'Philomel with melody!'
I should say. Au
revoir. I will go down among the pebbles for a while."She
vanished, and Philip regarded Miss Burridge, who returned his gaze."Good
night!" he
said at last."Sh!
Sh!" warned Miss Priscilla, and tiptoed across the kitchen. When
she had looked from a window and seen her boarder's sweater and tam
proceeding among the grassy hummocks toward the sea, she returned,
bringing out the materials for Philip's operations on the fish."I'll
bring a rhetoric instead of finny denizens of the deep, the next time
I come," he continued, settling to his job.Miss
Priscilla took her boarder's deserted seat on the doorstep."Going
to open a young ladies' seminary here, and got the teacher all
secured?""Nothing
of the kind, Phil, and there's only one explanation of her,"
declared Miss Priscilla impressively. "You've been in art
galleries and seen these statues of Venus and Apollo and all that
tribe?""I
have.""Well,
sir, all I can think of is that one o' their Dianas got down off her
perch some dark night, and managed to get hold o' some girl clothes,
and came here to this island. She
says she has come
to recuperate from unwise vigils caused by vaulting ambition at
school. I said it over to myself till I learned it.""I
should say her trouble might be indigestion from devouring
dictionaries," remarked Philip."Well,
anyway, she's a sweet girl and it's all as natural as breathing to
her. At first I accused her in my own mind of affectation, but,
there! she hasn't got an affected bone in her body, and she's willin'
and simple as a child. You'd ought to 'a' seen her luggin' water up
the hill for me this mornin'. That reminds me. You promised to give
me a lift this summer when I needed it.""At
so much a lift," remarked Philip."Of
course. Well, the first thing I want you to do is to get the
carpenter and the plumber and knock their heads together, and then
bring 'em here, one in each hand, so's I can have my house ready when
the folks come. Why, my new stove ain't even put up. Mr. Buell, the
plumber, promised me faithful he'd come this mornin'. I'm cookin' on
an old kerosene stove there was here and managin' to keep Miss Wilbur
from sheer starvation.""Miss
Wilbur? Is that the fair Diana? Where did you get the 'old master'?
Did she find you waiting when she got off the pedestal?""No,
I found her waiting. She came to the island on a misunderstandin'.
There wasn't any one ready so early in the season to make strangers
comfortable, and it seems she took a fancy to this place and I found
her here sittin' on the steps when I arrived. She said she had been
on the island a week and had walked up to this piazza every pleasant
day, and she'd like to live here.""Did
she really say it as plain as that?""Well—I
don't suppose those were her exact words, but she made me understand
that she was willin' to come right in for better or for worse just
so's she could have a room up there in front where the dawn—yes,
she said something about the dawn, I forget whether it was purple or
rosy—""Mottled,
perhaps," suggested Philip."Well,
anyway, I told her the dawn came awful early in the day this part o'
the year, and that probably she'd be better satisfied in one o' the
back rooms; but she was firm on the
dawn, so she's got
it. But I draw the line at her gettin' midnight shower-baths, and
that's what she will get if that wretch of a Matt Blake don't get
here before the next storm and put on the shingles.""And
I have to tell the plumber that you have to 'haul water' too. Is that
it? The well is some little distance. Rather hard on the statue,
wasn't it, to do the hauling? She'll wish she'd stayed in the
gallery. I'll bring in a lot before I go.""Don't
go, Philip," begged Miss Priscilla. "Supposin' you don't
go, not till you can leave me whole-footed. The men'll come sooner
and work better if they know there's a man here. Your grandma won't
care if her visit's interrupted for a little while. I'll feed you
with your own mackerel and you can bet I know how to cook 'em.""Do
you think Matt Blake realizes that I'm a man?" The teeth Philip
showed in his smile were an asset for a singer. "He helped teach
me to walk, you know.""Well,
now, you teach him"
retorted Miss Priscilla. "Show him how to walk in this
direction. I don't want to make a fizzle of this thing. I found there
wa'n't anybody goin' to run the place this summer, so I thought it
might be a good job for me. I never took a thought that it was goin'
to be so hard to get help. They tell me there ain't any servants any
more; and there are enough folks writin' for rooms to fill me up
entirely. I can do the
cookin' myself—""Now,
Miss Burridge, you aren't leading up to asking me to put on an apron
and wait on table, are you? You must remember I'm recuperating also
from a too vaulting ambition.""Recuperatin',
nothin'! You're the huskiest-lookin' thing I ever saw. No, I ain't
goin' to ask you to wait on table; but I've got an idea. We're too
out o' the way here for me to get college boys. They'd rather go to
the mountains and so on—fashionable resorts. But I've got a niece,
if she don't feel too big of herself to do that sort of thing; she
might come. I'm goin' to ask her anyway. I haven't seen her for years
'cause her mother's been gone a long time and her father went out to
Jersey to live, but I've no doubt she's a nice girl. Her name's
Veronica. Isn't that a beater? I told my sister I couldn't see why
she didn't name her Japonica and be done with it.""It's
the name of a saint," remarked Philip."Well,
I hope she's enough of one to come and help me out. I'm goin' to ask
her.""Better
get Miss Wilbur to write her about the rosy dawn and the jeweled
denizens. I'm afraid you'll be too truthful and tell about the leaks.
With an 'old master' and a saint, you ought to get on swimmingly.""Well,
will you stay with me a few days?" said Miss Priscilla
coaxingly. "If I had a rapscallion to add to the menagerie—""Do
you mean ménage, Miss Burridge?""I'll
call it anything in the world you like, if you'll only stand by me,
Phil.""All
right." The young fellow tossed the second cleaned fish on to
the plate. "Let me wash my hands and I'll go and throw out a
line for the plumber.""You're
a good boy," returned Miss Burridge, relieved. "I do think,
Philip, that in the main you are a good boy! Who's that comin' over?"
Miss Burridge craned her neck and narrowed her eyes the better to
observe a bicycle which appeared across the field.The
apparition of any human being was exciting to one responsible for the
comfort of others in this Arcadia, where modern conveniences could
only be obtained by effort both spasmodic and continuous."Oh,
it's Marley Hughes from the post-office."A
youngster of fourteen came wheeling nonchalantly over the bumps of
the field, and finally jumped off his machine and came leisurely up
the rise among the trees."I
hoped you might be Matt Blake," said Miss Priscilla. "He's
got as far as to have the shingles here.""Well,
I ain't," remarked Marley in the pleasant, drawling, leisurely,
island voice."What
you got for me?" inquired Miss Burridge."Telegram."
The boy brought the store envelope from his pocket."Oh,
I hate 'em," said Miss Burridge apprehensively.Marley
held it aggravatingly away from Philip's extended hand. "Take it
back if you want me ter," he said with a grin. "It's ten
cents anyway, whether you take it or not.""Oh,
yes, I've got the money right here." Miss Priscilla turned to a
shelf over the sink and took a dime from a purse which lay there."Here."
She gave it to Marley, who without more ado jumped on his wheel and
coasted down among the trees and off over the soft grass."You
open it, Phil. My spectacles ain't here anyway," said Miss
Priscilla anxiously.So
Philip tore open the envelope. The look of amazement which overspread
his face as the message greeted him caused Miss Burridge to exclaim
fearfully: "Speak out, speak out, Phil.""They
must have taken this down wrong at the store," he said. Then he
read the scrawled words slowly. "'Look in broiler oven for
legs.'"The
cryptic sentence appeared to have a magical effect upon Miss
Priscilla. Her face beamed and she threw up her hands in
thanksgiving."Glory
be!" she exclaimed devoutly."What
am I stumbling on?" said Philip. "Have you taken to wiring
in cipher?""You
see" said Miss
Priscilla excitedly, reaching for the telegram which Philip yielded,
"it came
without any legs.
Mr. Buell himself looked it over on the wharf and said he couldn't
find 'em anywhere; and, of course, it was a terrible anxiety to me
and I wrote to them right off, and I was goin' to get Mr. Buell to
set it up without the legs if necessary and stick somethin' else
under. Come and help me look, Phil."Miss
Burridge seized the young fellow's arm and dragged him into the
kitchen, where in one corner reposed the new stove in its shining
newness, its parts piled ignominiously lop-sided. Talking all the
time, its owner pulled open one door after another, as Philip
disengaged them, and at last she laid hands on the missing treasure."Now
I'll give you as good a dinner as ever comes off this stove if you'll
go and get those men and bring 'em up here," she said. "Don't
leave me till I'm whole-footed, Phil.""Want
feet as well as legs, do you?" he chuckled. "All right. See
you later if I can get Blake and Buell. If I can't, I suppose I'd
better drown myself.""No,
no, don't do that, Phil.
You're better than
nothing, yourself."