Shifting Sands
Page 4
Chapter IV
The village store, grandiloquently styled by a red sign the WiltonEmporium, was thronged with the usual noontime crowd.
It was a still, grey day, murky with fog and the odors of wet oilskins,steaming rubber coats, damp woolens blended with a mixture of tar,coffee and tobacco smoke, made its interior thick and stuffy. Long agothe air-tight stove had consumed such remnants of oxygen as the roomcontained. The windows reeked with moisture; the floor was gritty withsand.
These discomforts, however, failed to be of consequence to the knotof men who, rain or shine, congregated there at mail time. They wereaccustomed to them. Indeed, a drizzle, far from keeping the habituesaway, rendered the meeting place unusually popular. Not but that plentyof work, capable of being performed as well in foul as in fair weather,could not have been found at home.
Zenas Henry Brewster's back stairs were at the very moment crying outfor paint; the leg was off his hair-cloth sofa; the pantry window stuck;the bolt dangled from his side door and could have been wrenched offwith a single pull.
Here was an ideal opportunity to make such repairs. Yet, why take today?
Nobody really saw the stairs. If the sofa pitched the brick tuckedunderneath, it at least prevented it from lurching dangerously. Thepantry window was as well closed as open, anyway. And as for the sidedoor--if it was not bolted at all, no great harm would result.
"Nobody's got in yet," Zenas Henry optimistically philosophized as,despite his wife's protests, he slipped into his sou'wester, "an' I seeno cause to think thieves will pitch on today to come. Fur's that goes,Wilton ain't never had a burglary in all its history. We could leave allthe bolts off the doors."
To this cheery observation he added over his shoulder a jaunty"Goodbye!" and, striding out through the shed, was off to join hiscronies.
The argument with Abbie had not only delayed him, but had left him a bitirritated, and he was more nettled still to find, when he crossed thethreshold of the post-office, that the daily conclave was in full swing.Nevertheless, the session had not become as interesting as it wouldafter those who dropped in simply to call for mail or make purchases hadthinned out. He had, to be sure, missed seeing the letters distributed,but the best yet remained.
Shuffling over to the counter where his friends were huddled, ZenasHenry unostentatiously joined them.
"Yes-siree, there'll be somethin' doin' in Wilton now," Enoch Morton,the fish-man, was saying. "That sand bar's goin' to be the centre ofthe town, if I don't miss my guess. There'll be more'n Charlie Eldridgefishin' in the channel."
A laugh greeted the prediction.
"Who's seen her?" Captain Benjamin Todd inquired.
"I have," came the piping voice of Lemuel Gill. "Me and 'Becca rowedover from Belleport Saturday. We went a-purpose, takin' some jellyto Marcia as an excuse. The girl's Jason's niece all right, same'sfolks say, though she looks no more like him than chalk like cheese. Aprettier little critter 'twould be hard to find. It 'pears that at theoutset Marcia invited her for no more'n a short visit. Inside the week,though, the two of 'em have got so friendly, Sylvia's sent home for hertrunk, an' is plannin' to stay all summer. She's head over heels in lovewith the place. I'm almighty glad she's come, too, for it's goin' tobe grand for Marcia, who must be lonely enough out there with only thesetter for company."
"It's her own fault. She could have other companions was she so minded,"declared Captain Phineas Taylor, significantly.
"Oh, we all know that, Phineas," agreed the gentle Lemuel Gill. "There'splenty of folks hankerin' to be comrades to Marcia. The only trouble isshe doesn't want 'em."
"With this girl at her elbow, she'll want 'em even less, I reckon,"Asaph Holmes interposed.
"Mebbe. Still, I figger that ain't a-goin' to discourage her admirersnone. Why, within the week Sylvia's been here, I happen to know Marcia'shad four buckets of clams, a catch of flounders, an' a couple of cuts ofsword-fish presented to her," Ephraim Wise, the mail carrier announced.
"That stray blue-fish of Charlie Eldridge's must 'a' swelled thecollection some, too," put in Lemuel. "When I asked Charlie what he donewith it, he owned he left it over at the Homestead. He said he neverwanted to see another fish long's he lived."
"That ain't all the gifts The Widder's had, neither," volunteered SilasNickerson, the postmaster, who now joined the group. "Not by a longshot. I can see the whole of that spit of sand from my back porch, an'often after I've had my supper an' set out there smokin' an' sorter--"
"Sorter keepin' a weather eye out," chuckled a voice.
"Smokin' an' takin' the air," repeated Silas, firmly. "I look in thatdirection, 'cause it's a pleasant direction to look. That's how I cometo know more'n one lobster's been sneaked to Marcia after dusk."
"I don't so much mind folks makin' Marcia friendly donations," CaptainJonas Baker declared with guilty haste. "In my opinion, it's right an'proper they should. But when it comes to Eleazer Crocker, who's head ofthe fire department an' undertaker as well, goin' over there for theentire evenin' with the keys to the engine house in his pocket, I thinkthe town oughter take some action 'bout it. S'pose there was to be afire an' him hemmed in by the tide t'other side the channel? The wholevillage might burn to the ground 'fore ever he could be fetched home."
"That certainly ain't right," Zenas Henry agreed. "Eleazer'd eitheroughter hang the keys on a bush near the shore or leave 'em with someresponsible person when he goes a-courtin'."
"When you went courtin', would you 'a' wanted the whole town made awareof it?" queried Enoch Morton.
Chagrined, Zenas Henry colored.
"Well, anyhow, he's got no business goin' off the mainland. Even ifthere ain't a fire, somebody might die. He's a mighty important citizen,an' his place is at home."
"Oh, I wouldn't go that fur," soothed peace-loving Lemuel Gill. "Firesan' dyin' don't happen every day."
"No. But when they do come, they're liable to come sudden," maintainedZenas Henry stoutly.
"Not always. Besides, we've got to go a bit easy with Eleazer. Rememberfrom the first he warn't anxious to be undertaker, anyway. He said soover an' over again," put in the gruff voice of Benjamin Todd. "He'xplained he hadn't a mite of talent for the job an' no leanin's towardit. It was foisted on him 'gainst his will."
"Well, somebody had to be undertaker. I didn't hanker to be townsheriff, but I got hauled into bein'," rejoined Elisha Winslow. "In aplace small as this honors sometimes go a-beggin' unless folks muster uptheir public spirit."
"I don't see, 'Lish, that the duties of sheriff have been so heavy herein Wilton that they've undermined your health," grinned Captain PhineasTaylor. "You ain't been what one could call over-worked by crime. Wasyou to need a pair of handcuffs in a hurry, it's my belief you wouldn'tbe able to find 'em. As for Eleazer--nobody's died for nigh onto a year;an' the only fire that's took place was a brush one that we put out'most an hour 'fore the key to the engine-house could be found, the doorunlocked, an' the chemical coaxed into workin'."
"That's true enough," conceded Captain Benjamin. "Still, I'll bet you anickel was you to come down hard on Eleazer, an' tell him that in futurehe'd have to choose 'twixt undertakin' an' courtin', he'd pick thecourtin'. He's human. You can't press a man too hard. Besides, you'veno right to blame that mix-up 'bout the engine-house key on him, Cap'nPhineas. Give the devil his due. Eleazer warn't responsible for that.His sister borrowed the brass polish for her candle-sticks an' afterwardslipped the key into her pocket by mistake. Remember that? At the minutethe fire broke out she was leadin' a women's missionary meetin' at thechurch an' was in the act of prayin' for the heathens out in China. Itdidn't seem decent to interrupt either her or the Lord. Unluckily theprayer turned out to be an uncommon long one an' in consequence thechemical got delayed."
"Well, anyhow, I'm glad this niece of Marcia's come," broke in LemuelGill, shifting the subject. "She's a pleasant little critter an' willkinder stir things up."
"Oh, there's no danger but she'll do that all right, Lemmy," Zen
as Henrydrawled. "You can generally depend on a pretty girl to raise a rumpus.Give her a month in town an' she'll most likely have all the malepopulation cuttin' one another's throats."
Fortunately both Marcia and Sylvia were at the moment too far out ofear-shot for this menacing prediction to reach them. Cut off by curtainsof fog and a tide that foamed through the channel, they were standing inthe homestead kitchen.
The builder of it would have laughed to scorn the present day apologyfor an interior so delightful.
Here was a room boasting space enough for an old-fashioned brick oven;an oil stove; two sand-scrubbed tables, snow white and smooth as satin;a high-backed rocker cushioned in red calico; braided rugs and shelvesfor plants. A regal kitchen truly--one that bespoke both comfort andhospitality.
The copper tea kettle, singing softly and sending up a genial spiral ofsteam, gleamed bright as sunshine; and the two big pantries, throughwhich one glimpsed rows of shining tins and papered shelves laden withchina, contributed to the general atmosphere of homeliness.
Fog might shroud the outer world in its blanket of unreality, but it waspowerless to banish from Marcia's kitchen the cheer which perpetuallyreigned there.
Before the fire, stretched upon his side, lay Prince Hal, his bodyrelaxed, his eyes drowsy with sleep; while from her vantage-ground onthe rocking-chair above, the tiger kitten, Winkie-Wee, gazed watchfullydown upon his slumbers.
It was Sylvia, however, who, in a smock of flowered chintz, lent theroom its supreme touch of color. She looked as if all the blossoms inall the world had suddenly burst into bloom and twined themselves abouther slender body.
Out of their midst rose her head, golden with curls and her blue eyes,large and child-like.
With her coming, a new world had opened to Marcia.
The girl's lightness of touch on life; her irrepressible gaiety; hersense of humor and unique point of view all bespoke a newer generationand one far removed from her aunt's environment. Not that she waswithout moral standards. She had them, but they were kept far in thebackground and were not the strained and anxious creeds which the womanof New England ancestry had inherited.
To see Sylvia jauntily sweep aside old conventions; to behold thedifferent emphasis she put upon familiar problems; to witness heraudacious belittling of issues her elders had been wont to grapple withwas an experience that continually shocked, stimulated, challenged andamused.
Yet, there was something big and wholesome in it withal; somethingrefreshingly sincere and free from morbidity; a high courage that tookthings as they came and never anticipated calamity.
Marcia found herself half reluctantly admiring this splendidly normaloutlook; this mixture of sophistication and naivete; her niece's noveland definitely formed opinions.
For, youthful though Sylvia was, she had personality, character,stratums of wisdom far in advance of her years. A very intriguingcompanion, Marcia admitted, one of whose many-sidedness she would notsoon tire.
"Now what shall our menu be, Marcia, dear?" she was asking. "Remember,according to our compact, it is my turn to get the dinner."
"Anything but fish!" Marcia answered with a groan. "I'm so tired ofsalt-water products it seems as if never again could I touch another."
"But my dear, if you will have a stag line of nautical admirers, whatcan you expect? You must pay the penalty. Besides, I think you'reungrateful," Sylvia pouted. "I love clams and other sea foods."
"You've not had so many of them in your lifetime as I have. Besides, Isuspect you are not telling the truth. Come, confess. Aren't you a weebit fed up on clams? Clam chowder Monday night, steamed clams Tuesdaynoon; clam fritters Tuesday night. And then that blue-fish. Why, itwas big as a shark! I almost lost my courage when the sword-fish andthe flounders came, but fortunately with the aid of Prince Hal and thekitten, we disposed of them fairly well. The lobsters, alas, yet remain.I used to think it would be romantic to be a Lorelei and live deep downbeneath the waves; but this avalanche of fish--!" Despairingly sheshrugged her shoulders.
Sylvia laughed.
"I don't feel at all like that. I've had a feast of fish and enjoyed it.But if I were to express a preference it would be for the hard-shelledsuitors. Do select one of those for a husband, Marcia," begged she,whimsically. "The others are all very well. Indeed, that blue-fish swainwas magnificent in his way, but me for the crustaceans."
"Sylvia! You absurd child!"
"Just consider the clam character for a moment--so silent, soclose-mouthed; never stirring up trouble or wanting to be out nights. Inmy opinion, he would be an ideal helpmate. Not sensitive, either; norjealous. Marcia, do marry one of the clams!
"I'm not so sure," went on the girl reflectively, "whether he would beaffectionate. He seems somewhat undemonstrative. Still, contrast himwith the lobster. Oh, I realize the lobster has more style, originality,and is more pretentious in every way. However, say what you will, he isgrasping by nature and has a much less gentle disposition. Besides, heis restless and always eager to be on the move.
"Yes, all things taken together, I lean strongly toward a nice,peaceable clam husband for you, Marcia. He'd be twice as domestic in histastes. I acknowledge the blue-fish has more back-bone, but you do notneed that. You have plenty yourself. Most women, I suppose, would becarried away by his dash, his daring, his persistence. He has a certainsporty quality that appeals; but he is so outrageously stubborn! Henever gives in until he has to. He'd be dreadful to live with."
"Sylvia, you are ridiculous!" Marcia protested. "You forget I am youraunt."
"My mistake. I did forget it, I'll confess; and what's more I probablyalways shall. To me you are just a girl I'd be head-over-heels inlove with if I were a man. I don't blame all the clams, lobsters, andflounders for flocking over here to make love to you."
"Stop talking nonsense."
"But it isn't nonsense. It's the truth. Isn't that precisely whatthey're doing? You certainly are not deluding yourself into thinkingthese men come gallivanting out here over the flats with the merephilanthropic purpose of seeing you don't starve to death, do you?"Sylvia demanded.
"Perhaps they come to see you," hedged Marcia feebly.
"Me! Now Marcia, pray do not resort to deceit and attempt to pokethis legion of mermen off on me. As a relative, I insist on having atruthful, respectable aunt. Consider my youth. Isn't it your Christianduty to set me a good example? Whether you wed any of these nauticalworshippers or not is your own affair. But at least honesty compels youto acknowledge they're your property."
A shadow, fleet as the rift in a summer cloud, passed over Marcia'sface, but transient as it was Sylvia, sensitively attuned and alert tochanges of mood in others, noticed it.
"What a little beast I am, Marcia," she cried, throwing her armimpulsively about the other woman. "Forgive my thoughtlessness. Iwouldn't have hurt you for the world. You know I never saw Uncle Jason.He left home when I was a child and is no reality to me. Even motherremembered him only as he was when a boy. She kept a little picture ofhim on her bureau, and on his birthdays always placed flowers besideit. She was fond of him, because he was only six when Grandmother died.After that, Mother took care of him and brought him up. She worrieda good deal about him, I'm afraid, for it was a great responsibilityand she herself was nothing but a girl. However, she did the best shecould."
Sylvia stole a look at Marcia who had stiffened and now stood with eyesfixed on the misty world outside.
"Mother felt sorry, hurt, that Uncle Jason should have left home as hedid, and never came back to see her. He was an impulsive, hot-headed boyand she said he resented her watchfulness and authority. But even thoughhe ran away in a moment of anger, one would think years of absence wouldhave smoothed away his resentment.
"For a little while he wrote to her; then gradually even his lettersstopped. She never knew what sort of a man he became. Once she told meshe supposed there must be lots of mothers in the world who merely sowedand never reaped--never saw the results of their care and sacrifice."
"But if he loved her, why didn't he come to see her? I know it was along journey, but if he could only have come once--just once. It wouldhave meant so much!"
"Men are selfish--unfeeling. They forget," replied Marcia, bitterly."You give your life to them and they toss aside your love and devotionas if it were so much rubbish."
The outburst, sharp with pain, burst from her involuntarily, awingSylvia into silence.
What did she know of Jason, that dim heritage of her childhood? OfMarcia? Of their life together, she suddenly asked herself.
Dismayed, she stole a glance at her companion.
It was as if idly treading a flower-strewn path she had without warningcome upon the unplumbed depths of a volcano's crater.
To cover the awkwardness of the moment, she bent to caress Prince Halwho had risen and stood, alert and listening beside her.
Only an instant passed before Marcia spoke again--this time withvisible effort to recapture her customary manner.
"Suppose we have lobster Newburg this noon," suggested she. "I'll getthe chafing-dish. What's the matter, Hal, old man? You look worried.Don't tell me you hear more fish swimming our way?"