In Apple-Blossom Time: A Fairy-Tale to Date

by Clara Louise Burnham

  CHAPTER VIII

  The Meadow

  The knight was doubly dusty when, returning from his quest in the latetwilight, he halted his noisy steed before Upton's Fancy Goods andNotions. He was confronted by a sign: "Closed. Taking account of stock."

  The young man tried the door which resisted vigorous turns of itshandle. Nothing daunted, he knocked peremptorily, then waited a space.Getting no response, he renewed his assaults with such force that atlast the lock turned, the door opened, and an irate face with aone-sided slit of a mouth was projected at him threateningly.

  "Can't you read, hey?" was the exasperated question, followed by anenergetic effort to close the door which was foiled by the interpositionof a masculine foot.

  "Yes, Mrs. Whipp, I learned last year. I'm awfully sorry, but I have tocome in." As he spoke the visitor opened the door in spite of theindignant resistance of Charlotte's whole body, and walked into theempty shop where kerosene lamps were already burning. "I have to seeMiss Upton. Awfully sorry to disturb you like this," he added, smilingdown at the angry, weazened face which gradually grew bewildered. "Why,it's Mr. Barry," she soliloquized aloud. "Just the same," she added, thesense of outrage holding over, "we'd ruther you'd 'a' come to-morrer."

  Ben strode through the shop and out to the living-room, Mrs. Whippfollowing impotently, talking in a high, angry voice.

  "'T ain't my fault, Miss Upton. He would come in. Some folk'll do jestwhat they please, whatever breaks."

  "Law, Ben Barry!" exclaimed Miss Mehitable with a start. "You've surelycaught me in my regimentals!"

  Miss Upton's regimentals consisted of ample and billowy apron effectsover a short petticoat. Her hair was brushed straight off her round faceand twisted in a knot as tight as Charlotte's own; and she wore largelist slippers.

  "Don't you care, Mehit. I look like a blackamoor myself. I had to seeyou"--the young fellow grasped his friend's hands, his eyes sparkling."I'd kiss you if I was wearing a pint less dust. She's an angel, a star,a wonder!" he finished vehemently.

  Miss Upton forgot her own appearance, her lips worked, and her eyes wereeager. "Ain't she, ain't she?" she responded in excitement equal to hisown. "Is she comin'? When?"

  "Heaven knows. She's a prisoner, with that brute for a jailer."

  Miss Upton, who had been standing by the late supper-table in the act ofassisting Charlotte to carry off the wreck, fell into a chair, her mouthopen.

  "And you left her there!" she cried at last. "You didn't knock him downand carry her off!"

  "Great Scott, how I wanted to!" replied Ben between his teeth, his fistsclenched; "but she wouldn't let me. There's something there we've got tofind out. She shook her head and signaled me to do nothing. He told herto bid me go away and she obeyed him. Oh, Miss Upton, how she looked!The most beautiful thing I ever saw in my life, but the most haunted,mournful, despairing face--"

  "Ben, you're makin' me sick!" responded Miss Mehitable, her voicebreaking. "Did you give the poor lamb my letter?"

  "He wouldn't let me get near enough to do that; but I gave it to astupid-looking dwarf who was mowing the grass near by. I'm not even surehe understood me. Perhaps he was deaf and dumb. I don't know; but it wasthe best I could do. She showed me so plainly that I was only making itharder for her by insisting on anything, there was nothing for me to dobut to come away, boiling." Ben began striding up and down theliving-room, his hands in his pockets, his restlessness causing Pearl toleap up, barely escaping his heavy shoe. Her arched back and hermistress's face both betokened an outraged bewilderment.

  Mrs. Whipp's eyes and ears were stretched to the utmost. This autocraticyoung upstart had broken into the house and nearly stepped on her pet.All the same, if he hadn't done so, Miss Upton would still be keepingsecrets from her. She had felt sure ever since Miss Mehitable's lasttrip to the city that there was something unusual in the air and thatshe was being defrauded of her rights in being shut out fromparticipation therein. Had this young masculine hurricane not stormed into-night, no telling how long she would have been kept in the dark; soshe stopped, looked, and listened, with all her might.

  "Well, what are you goin' to _do_, Ben?" asked Miss Upton, beseechingly."You're not goin' to leave it so, are you?"

  "I should say not. Carder is going to have me on his trail till thatexquisite creature is out of his clutches. Never was there a sleuth withhis heart in his business as mine will be. Oh!"--Ben, pausing not in themarch which sent Pearl to the top of a bookcase, raised his gazeheavenward--"what eyes, Miss Upton! Those beautiful despairing eyes inthat dreary, sordid den, cut off from the world!"

  "Ben, you stop!" whimpered Miss Mehitable, using her handkerchief."You're breakin' my heart. And to think how you scoffed at me onSunday!"

  "Wasting time like a fool!" ejaculated Ben. He suddenly stopped beforethe weeping Mehitable, nearly tripping over her roomy slippers. "Now,Miss Upton, this is what you are to do. I'm going to town the firstthing in the morning and take steps to get on the trail of that sly fox.You go right up to see Mother and tell her all about Miss Melody." Againhis gaze sought the ceiling. "Melody! What a perfect name for the mostcharming, graceful, exquisite human flower that ever bloomed!" Turningsuddenly, the rapt speaker encountered Mrs. Whipp's twisted, acid,hungrily listening countenance. He emitted a burst of laughter andlooked back at Miss Mehitable, who was wiping her eyes. "Tell Mother thewhole story," he went on, "just as you did to me; and here's hoping myskepticism isn't inherited. And now, Mrs. Whipp"--addressing the fadedlistener who gave a surprised sniff--"I'll go home and wash my face. Iknow you'll approve of that. Good-night, Miss Upton; don't you cry. I'mgoing to put up a good fight and perhaps Geraldine--oh, what a lovelyname!--perhaps she has the comfort of your letter by this time." Benscowled with sudden introspection. "What hold has that rascal over her?That's what puzzles me. What hold _can_ he have?"

  Miss Mehitable blew her nose grievously. "Why, he's cousin to her rascalstepmother, you know. No tellin' what they cooked up between 'em."

  Of course, after her emissary had departed Miss Upton had to face Mrs.Whipp and her injured sniffs and silent implications of maltreatment;but she sketched the story to her, eliciting the only question shedreaded.

  "What did you say to the girl in your letter? Did you write her to comehere?" Mrs. Whipp's manner was stony.

  "Yes, I did," replied Miss Mehitable bravely.

  "Then I s'pose I'd better be makin' other plans," said Charlotte, goingto Pearl and picking her up as if preparing for instant departure.

  Miss Upton's eyes shone with exasperation. "I wish you wouldn't drive mecrazy, Charlotte Whipp. If you haven't any sympathy for a poor orphan injail on a desolate farm, then I wouldn't own it, if I was you. You cansee what chance she has o' comin' here. If the _law_ has to settle it,she's likely to be toothless before she can make a move."

  Mrs. Whipp was startled by the wrathful voice and manner of one usuallyso pacific.

  "I didn't mean to make you mad, Miss Upton," she said with a meek changeof manner; and there the matter dropped.

  Now was a crucial time for Geraldine Melody. Her father's exhortation toher not to consider him and the doubt which his letter had raised as tohis legal guilt, coupled with the memory of the vigorous young knight inknickerbockers, gave her the feeling that she might at least obey thelatter's mysterious hint.

  Rufus Carder was still in fear that he had pushed matters too fast, andthe next morning, when his captive came downstairs to help get thebreakfast, he contented himself with devouring her with his eyes. Shefelt that she must guard her every look lest he observe a vestige of herreviving hope and courage. She must return to the thought of becoming a"trusty." It would be difficult to steer a course between the docilitythat would encourage odious advances on the one hand, and on the othera too obvious repugnance which would put her jailer on his guard. Ofcourse there were moments when the lines of her father's letter seemedto her to admit criminality, but at others the natural hopefulness ofyouth asserted itself, and she interpre
ted his words to indicate onlyhis humiliation and disgraceful debts.

  There was an innate loftiness, an ethereal quality, about the girl'spersonality which Carder always felt, in spite of himself, even at thevery moments when he was obtruding his familiarities upon her. She waslike a fine jewel which he had stolen, but which baffled his efforts toset it among his own possessions.

  Already in the short time which had elapsed since bringing her to thefarm, she had fallen away to an alarming delicacy of appearance. Hermental conflict and the blows she had received showed so plainly in herlooks that Carder's whole mind became absorbed in the desire to buildher up. She might slip away from him yet without any recourse toviolence on her own part.

  That morning, her father's letter in the same envelope with Miss Upton'sand both treasures against her heart, she came downstairs and saw Petewashing at the pump. Rufus Carder was not in sight, and she movedswiftly toward the dwarf, who looked frightened at her approach.

  "How can I thank you, Pete!" she exclaimed softly, and her smiletransformed her pale face into something heavenly to look upon. Her eyespoured gratitude into his dull ones and his face crimsoned.

  "Keep away," was all he said.

  Carder appeared, as it seemed, up through the ground, and the dwarfrubbed his face and neck with a rough, grimy towel.

  "Good-mornin'," said Rufus in his harsh voice.

  Geraldine turned a lightless face toward him. "Good-morning," she said."Is this well a spring?"

  "Yes. Have you noticed how good the water is?"

  "I was just coming for a drink when you startled me. I didn't see you."

  "Allow me," said Rufus, picking up the half cocoanut shell which waschained to the wood. "Let's make a loving-cup of it. I'm thirsty, too."

  He held the cup while Pete pumped the water over it, and finally shakingoff the clinging drops offered it to the guest.

  Geraldine made good her words. An inward fever of excitement was burningin her veins. The proximity of this man caused her always the samepanic. Oh, what was meant by those written words of the sunny-eyed,upstanding young knight who had obeyed her so reluctantly? Now it washer turn to obey him, and she must see to it that no suspicion ofCarder's should prevent her.

  When she had drunk every drop, Rufus took a few sips--he had not muchuse for water--and they returned to the house together.

  When Mrs. Carder and Pete had sent the hired men afield, the three satdown to breakfast as usual, and Rufus, moved by the guest's transparentappearance and downcast eyes, played unconsciously into her hands.

  "This is great weather, Geraldine," he said. "You don't want to mope inthe house. You want to spend a lot o' time outdoors. I'll take you outdriving whenever you want to go."

  Geraldine lifted her eyes to his--the eyes with the drooping, pensivecorners deepened by dark lashes which Miss Upton had tried to describe.

  "I think I'm not feeling very strong, Mr. Carder," she said listlessly."Long drives tire me."

  "Long walks will tire you more," he answered, instantly suspicious.

  "Yes, I don't feel equal to them now," she answered, her grave glancedropping again to her plate.

  He regarded her with a troubled frown.

  "That hammock chair and a hammock will be out to-day," he said. "I'llput 'em under the elm you're so stuck on, and I guess we can scare upsome books for you to read."

  Geraldine's heart began to quicken and she put a guard upon her mannerlest eagerness should crop out in spite of her.

  "It is early for shade," she replied. "The sun is pleasant. Everythingis so bare about here," she added wearily. "I wish I could find someflowers."

  Then it was that Mrs. Carder, poor dumb automaton, volunteered a remark;and the most silver-tongued orator could not have better pleasedGeraldine with eloquence.

  "Used to be quite a lot grow down in the medder," she said.

  Geraldine's heart beat like a little triphammer, but she did not look upfrom her plate, nor change her listless expression.

  "I'd like to go and see if there are any," she said. "I love them. Whereis the meadow?"

  "Oh, it's just that swale to the right of the driveway," said Rufus."It's low ground, and I s'pose the wild flowers do like it. I hope thecows haven't taken them all. You needn't be afraid o' the cows."

  "No, I'm not," replied Geraldine. "Perhaps I'll go some time."

  "Go to-day, go while the goin's good," urged Rufus. "Never can tell whenthe rain will keep you in. You shall have a flower garden, Geraldine.You tell me where you'd like it and I'll have the ground got ready rightoff."

  "Thank you," she answered, "but I like the wild flowers best."

  As soon as the dishes were dried, Geraldine went up to her room anddelved into her little trunk. She brought out a white cotton dress. Ithad not been worn since the summer before, and though clean it was badlywrinkled. She took it down to the kitchen and ironed it.

  "Goin' to put on a white dress?" asked Mrs. Carder. "Kind o' cool forthat, ain't it?"

  "I don't think so. I have very few dresses, and I get tired of wearingthe same one."

  Mrs. Carder sighed. "Rufus will buy you all the dresses you want ifyou'll only get strong. I can see he's dreadful worried because you lookpale."

  "Well, I am going to try to become sunburned to-day. I'm so glad youthought of the meadow, Mrs. Carder. Perhaps you like flowers, too."

  The old woman sighed. "I used to. I've 'most forgot what they looklike."

  "I'll bring you some if there are any."

  Geraldine's eyes held an excited light as she ironed away. After theeleven o'clock dinner she went up to her room to dress. Color came intoher cheeks as she saw her reflection in the bit of mirror. What astrange thing she was doing. Supposing Miss Upton's paragon had alreadybecome absorbed in his own interests. How absurd she should feelwandering afield in the costume he had ordered, if he never came and shenever heard from him again.

  "Wear white."

  What could it mean? What possible difference could the color of her gownmake in any plan he might have concocted for her assistance? However, inthe dearth of all hope, in her helplessness and poverty, and aching fromthe heart-wound Rufus Carder had given her, why should she not obey?

  The color receded from her face, and again delving into her trunk shebrought forth an old, white, embroidered crepe shawl with deep fringewhich had belonged to her mother. This she wrapped about her and starteddownstairs. She feared that Carder would accompany her in her ramble.She could hear his rough voice speaking to some workmen in front of thehouse, and she moved noiselessly out to the kitchen.

  Mrs. Carder looked up from the bread she was moulding and started,staring over her spectacles at the girl.

  "You look like a bride," she said.

  "I'll bring you some flowers," replied Geraldine, hastening out of thekitchen-door down the incline toward the yellow office.

  "Hello, there," called the voice she loathed, and Carder came stridingafter her. She stood still and faced him. The long lines and deep,clinging fringe of the creamy white shawl draped her in statuesquefolds. Carder gasped in admiration.

  "You look perfectly beautiful!" he exclaimed.

  The young girl reminded herself that she was working to become a trusty.

  "What's the idea," he went on, "of makin' such a toilet for the benefitof the cows?" At the same time, the wish being father to the thought,the glorious suspicion assailed him that Geraldine was perhaps notunwilling to show him her beauty in a new light. It stood to reason thatshe must possess a normal girlish vanity.

  She forced a faint smile. "It's just my mother's old shawl," shereplied.

  "Want me to help you find your flowers?" he asked.

  "If you wish to," she answered, "but it isn't discourteous to like to bealone sometimes, is it, Mr. Carder? You were saying at dinner that Ilooked tired. I really don't feel very well. I thought I would like toroam about alone a while in the sunshine."

  Her gentle humility brought forth a loud: "Oh, of course, of
course,that's all right. Suit yourself and you'll suit me. Just find some rosesfor your own cheeks while you're about it, that's all I ask."

  "I'll try," she answered, and walked on. Carder accompanied her as faras his office, where he paused.

  "Good-bye, bless your little sweet heart," he said, low and ardently, inthe tone that always seemed to make the girl's very soul turn over.

  "Good-bye," she answered, without meeting the hunger of his obliquegaze; and crossing the driveway she forced herself to move slowly downthe grassy incline that led to the meadow where a number of cows weregrazing.

  Carder watched longingly her graceful, white figure crowned with gold.She was safe enough in the meadow. Even if she desired to go out ofbounds, she would not invade any public way, hatless, and in clingingwhite crepe. The cows were excellent chaperones. Nevertheless--hesnapped his fingers and Pete came out from behind the office.

  Carder did not speak, but pointed after the white figure, and Pete,again dragging the mower, ambled across the driveway and followed ondown the slope.

  Geraldine heard the clicking and glanced around, sure of what she shouldsee. She smiled a little and shook her head as she walked on.

  "Poor little Pete. Good little Pete," she murmured. "I owe him everymoment of comfort I've known in this place."

  When she considered that she had gone far enough to be free fromobservation, she turned to let him catch up with her; but when shepaused he did likewise and waited immovable.

  "I want to talk to you, Pete. I'm so glad of the chance. I'm so thankfulto you," she called softly.

  The dwarf drank in the delicate radiance of her face with adoring eyes.

  "Go on," he replied. "He is watching. He is always watching. You looklike an angel, but the devil is at the window. Go on."

  She turned back obediently and continued down the slope. When shereached the soft, spongy green of the meadow, the cows regarded herwonderingly. Pete began mowing the long grass on the edge, working soslowly that the sound did not mar the hush of the place; and sometimeshe sank down at ease and pulled apart a jointed stem, his eyes feastingon his charge.

  The cows had scorned certain blooms which grew lavishly and whichGeraldine waited to gather until it should be time to return. Near alarge clump of hazel-bushes she found a low rock, and she stretched outthere in the sunshine and quiet, and tried to think.

  There had been a little warm spot in her heart ever since that hour whenshe read Miss Upton's letter. She was no longer utterly friendless. Ifsome miracle should give her back her freedom, this good woman wouldhelp her to find independence. She longed to see that village of Keefe.She wished never again to see a city. Did Benjamin Barry live in Keefe?Geraldine summoned his image only too easily. Despite Miss Upton'srecommendation she did not wish to know him, or to trust him; but thinkabout him she must since she was dressed to his order and in the spot ofhis selection. How absurd it all was! What dream could he have beenindulging when he wrote those words?

  The girl could not keep her eyes from the driveway nor banish thepulsing hope that she should see a motor-cycle again speeding up theroad. She even rose from her reclining posture lest she should not besufficiently conspicuous in the field; but the hours passed and nothingoccurred beyond the cows' occasional cessation from browsing to regardher when she moved, and the occasional arising of Pete from the groundto push his mower idly along the turf.

  The flat landscape, the broad sky, everything was laid bare to thewindows of the yellow office. She felt certain that should the dustyknight reappear, he would be recognized from afar, and that Rufus Carderwould circumvent any plan he might have. He would stop at nothing, thatshe knew. She wondered if the law would excuse a man for murdering anintruder who had once been warned off his premises. She did not doubtthat Carder would be as ready with the shot-gun she had noticed in hisoffice as he was with the cruel whip. She covered her face with herhands as she recalled the sunny-eyed knight and shuddered at the thoughtof another meeting between the two. It had been plain that the visitor'syouth, strength, and good looks had thrown Carder into a panic. He wouldstop at nothing. Nothing.

  A lanky youth with trousers tucked in his boots at last appeared,slouching down toward the meadow to get the cows.

  Geraldine came out of her apprehensive mental pictures with a sigh, androse. She gathered her flowers, and moved slowly back toward the house.

  She must appear to have enjoyed her outing, else it would not seemconsistent for her to wish to come again to-morrow; and she must, shemust come again! Her poor contradictory little heart found itselfclinging to the one vague, absurd hope, despite its fears.