CHAPTER XXIX
WHILE THEY WAITED
"THERE comes the boy from the telegraph office." Mrs. Triplett spokewith such a raven-like note of foreboding in her voice that Georgina,practising her daily scales, let her hands fall limply from the keys.
"The Tishbite!" she thought uneasily. What evil was it about to sendinto the house now, under cover of that yellow envelope? Would it takeBarby away from her as it had done before?
Sitting motionless on the piano stool, she waited in dread while Mrs.Triplett hurried to the door before the boy could ring, signed for themessage and silently bore it upstairs. The very fact that she went upwith it herself, instead of calling to Barby that a message had come,gave Georgina the impression that it contained bad news.
"A _cablegram_ for me?" she heard Barby ask. Then there was a moment'ssilence in which she knew the message was being opened and read. Thenthere was a murmur as if she were reading it aloud to Tippy and then--anexcited whirlwind of a Barby flying down the stairs, her eyes like happystars, her arms outstretched to gather Georgina into them, and hervoice half laugh, half sob, singing:
"_Oh, he's coming home to me Baby mine!_"
Never before had Georgina seen her so radiant, so excited, sooverflowingly happy that she gave vent to her feelings as a littleschoolgirl might have done. Seizing Georgina in her arms she waltzed heraround the room until she was dizzy. Coming to a pause at the pianostool she seated herself and played, "The Year of Jubilee Has Come," indeep, crashing chords and trickly little runs and trills, till the oldtune was transformed into a paen of jubilation.
Then she took the message from her belt, where she had tucked it andre-read it to assure herself of its reality.
"Starting home immediately. Stay three months, dragon captured."
"That must mean that his quest has been fairly successful," she said."If he's found the cause of the disease it'll be only a matter of timetill he finds how to kill it."
Then she looked up, puzzled.
"How strange for him to call it the _dragon_. How could he know we'dunderstand, and that we've been calling it that?"
Georgina's time had come for confession.
"Oh, I wrote him a little note after you told me the story and told himI was proud of having a Saint-George-kind of a father, and that we hopedevery day he'd get the microbe."
"You darling!" exclaimed Barbara, drawing her to her for anotherimpulsive hug. She did not ask as Georgina was afraid she would:
"Why didn't you tell me you were writing to your father?" Barbaraunderstood, without asking, remembering the head bowed in her lap afterthat confession of her encounter with the prying stranger in the bakery.
Suddenly Georgina asked:
"Barby, what is the 'Tishbite?'"
"The what?" echoed Barby, wrinkling her forehead in perplexity.
"The _Tishbite_. Don't you know it says in the Bible, Elijah and theTishbite----"
"Oh, no, dear, you've turned it around, and put the and in the wrongplace. It is '_And_ Elijah the Tishbite,' just as we'd say William theNorman or Manuel the Portuguese."
"Well, for pity sakes!" drawled Georgina in a long, slow breath ofrelief. "Is _that_ all? I wish I'd known it long ago. It would havesaved me a lot of scary feelings."
Then she told how she had made the wish on the star and tried to proveit as Belle had taught her, by opening the Bible at random.
"If you had read on," said Barby, "you'd have found what it meant yourown self."
"But the book shut up before I had a chance," explained Georgina. "And Inever could find the place again, although I've hunted and hunted. And Iwas sure it meant some sort of devil, and that it would come and punishme for using the Bible that way as if it were a hoodoo."
"Then why didn't you ask me?" insisted Barby. "There's another time yousee, when a big worry and misunderstanding could have been cleared awaywith a word. To think of your living in dread all that time, when theTishbite was only a good old prophet whose presence brought a blessingto the house which sheltered him."
That night when Georgina's curls were being brushed she said, "Barby, Iknow now who my Tishbite is; it's Captain Kidd. He's brought a blessingever since he came to this town. If it hadn't been for his barking thatday we were playing in the garage I wouldn't be here now to tell thetale. If it hadn't been for him I wouldn't have known Richard, and we'dnever have started to playing pirate. And if we hadn't played pirateRichard wouldn't have asked to borrow the rifle, and if he hadn't askedwe never would have found the note hidden in the stock, and if we hadn'tfound the note nobody would have known that Danny was innocent. Then ifCaptain Kidd hadn't found the pouch we wouldn't have seen the compassthat led to finding the wild-cat woman who told us that Danny was aliveand well."
"What a House-That-Jack-Built sort of tale that was!" exclaimed Barby,much amused. "We'll have to do something in Captain Kidd's honor. Givehim a party perhaps, and light up the holiday tree."
The usual bedtime ceremonies were over, and Barby had turned out thelight and reached the door when Georgina raised herself on her elbow tocall:
"Barby, I've just thought of it. The wish I made on that star that nightis beginning to come true. Nearly everybody I know is happy aboutsomething." Then she snuggled her head down on the pillow with a littlewriggle of satisfaction. "Ugh! this is such a good world. I'm so gladI'm living in it. Aren't you?"
And Barby had to come all the way back in the dark to emphasize herheartfelt "yes, indeed," with a hug, and to seal the restless eyelidsdown with a kiss--the only way to make them stay shut.
Richard came back the next day. He brought a picture to Georgina fromMr. Locke. It was the copy of the illustration he had promised her, thefairy shallop with its sails set wide, coming across a sea of Dreams,and at the prow, white-handed Hope, the angel girt with golden wings,which swept back over the sides of the vessel.
"Think of having a painting by the famous Milford Norris Locke!"exclaimed Barby. She hung over it admiringly. "Most people would behappy to have just his autograph." She bent nearer to examine the namein the corner of the picture. "What's this underneath? Looks like numberIV."
"Oh, that means he's number four in our Rainbow Club. Peggy Burrell isnumber five and the Captain is number six. That's all the members wehave so far."
"Aren't you going to count me in?" asked Barby.
"Oh, you _are_ counted in. You've belonged from the beginning. We madeyou an _honary_ member or whatever it is they call it, people whodeserve to belong because they're always doing nice things, but don'tknow it. There's you and Uncle Darcy and Captain Kidd, because he savedour lives and saved our families from having to have a double funeral."
Barby stooped to take the little terrier's head between her hands andpat-a-cake it back and forth with an affectionate caress.
"Captain Kidd," she said gaily, "you shall have a party this very night,and there shall be bones and cakes on the holiday tree, and you shall bethe best man with a 'normous blue bow on your collar, and we'll alldance around in your honor this way."
Springing to her feet and holding the terrier's front paws, she waltzedhim around and around on his hind legs, singing:
"_All around the barberry bush, Barberry bush, barberry bush. All around the barberry bush So early in the morning._"
Georgina, accustomed all her life to such frisky performances, took itas a matter of course that Barby should give vent to her feelings in thesame way that she herself would have done, but Richard stood by,bewildered. It was a revelation to him that anybody's mother could be socharmingly and unreservedly gay. She seemed more like a big sister thanany of the mothers of his acquaintance. He couldn't remember his own,and while Aunt Letty was always sweet and good to him he couldn'timagine her waltzing a dog around on its hind legs any more than hecould imagine Mrs. Martha Washington doing it.
The holiday tree was another revelation to him, when he came back atdusk to find it lighted with the colored lanterns and blooming withflags a
nd hung with surprises for Georgina and himself.
"You've never seen it lighted," Barby explained, "and Georgina'sbirthday had to be skipped because I wasn't here to celebrate, so we'verolled all the holidays into one, for a grand celebration in CaptainKidd's honor."
It was to shorten the time of waiting that Barbara threw herself intothe children's games and pleasures so heartily. Every night she tore aleaf off the calendar and planned something to fill up the next day tothe brim with work or play. They climbed to the top of the monument whenshe found that Richard had never made the ascent, and stood long,looking off to Plymouth, twenty miles away, and at the town spread outbelow them, seeming from their great height, a tiny toy village. Theywent to Truro to see the bayberry candle-dipping. They played MaudMuller, raking the yard, because the boy whom old Jeremy had installedin his place had hurt his foot. Old Jeremy, being well on toward ninetynow, no longer attempted any work, though still hale and hearty. But thegarden had been his especial domain too long for him to give it upentirely, and he spent hours in it daily, to the disgust of hiseasy-going successor.
There were picnics at Highland Light and the Race Point life-savingstation. There were long walks out the state road, through the dunes andby the cranberry bogs. But everything which speeded Barbara's weeks offeverish waiting, hurrying her on nearer her heart's desire, broughtRichard nearer to the time of parting from the old seaport town and thebest times he had ever known. He had kodak pictures of all theiroutings. Most of them were light-struck or out of focus or over-exposed,but he treasured them because he had taken them himself with his firstlittle Brownie camera. There was nothing wrong or queer with therecollection of the scenes they brought to him. His memory photographedonly perfect days, and he dreaded to have them end.
Before those weeks were over Richard began to feel that he belonged toBarby in a way, and she to him. There were many little scenes of whichno snapshot could be taken, which left indelible impressions.
For instance, those evenings in the dim room lighted only by themoonlight streaming in through the open windows, when Barby sat at thepiano with Georgina beside her, singing, while he looked out over thesea and felt the soul of him stir vaguely, as if he had wings somewhere,waiting to be unfurled.
The last Sunday of his vacation he went to church with Barbara andGeorgina. It wasn't the Church of the Pilgrims, but anotherwhite-towered one near by. The president of the bank was one of theushers. He called Richard by name when he shook hands with the three ofthem at the door. That in itself gave Richard a sense of importance andof being welcome. It was a plain old-fashioned church, its onlydecoration a big bowl of tiger-lilies on a table down in front of thepulpit. When he took his seat in one of the high front pews he felt thathe had never been in such a quiet, peaceful place before.
They were very early. The windows were open, and now and then a breezeblowing in from the sea fluttered the leaves of a hymn-book lying openon the front seat. Each time they fluttered he heard another sound also,as faint and sweet as if it were the ringing of little crystal bells.Georgina, on the other side of Barby, heard it too, and they looked ateach other questioningly. Then Richard discovered where the tinkle camefrom, and pointed upward to call her attention to it. There, from thecenter of the ceiling swung a great, old-fashioned chandelier, hung witha circle of pendant prisms, each one as large and shining as the oneUncle Darcy had given her.
Georgina knew better than to whisper in such a place, but she couldn'thelp leaning past Barby so that Richard could see her lips silently formthe words, "Rainbow Club." She wondered if Mr. Gates had started it.There were enough prisms for nearly every member in the church to claimone.
Barby, reading the silent message of her lips and guessing that Georginawas wondering over the discovery, moved her own lips to form the words,"just _honorary_ members."
Georgina nodded her satisfaction. It was good to know that there were somany of them in the world, all working for the same end, whether theyrealized it or not.
Just before the service began an old lady in the adjoining pew next toRichard, reached over the partition and offered him several cloves. Hewas too astonished to refuse them and showed them to Barby, not knowingwhat to do with them. She leaned down and whispered behind her fan:
"She eats them to keep her awake in church."
Richard had no intention of going to sleep, but he chewed one up,finding it so hot it almost strangled him. Every seat was filled in ashort time, and presently a drowsiness crept into the heated air whichbegan to weave some kind of a spell around him. His shoes were new andhis collar chafed his neck. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier. Hestared at the lilies till the whole front of the church seemed filledwith them. He looked up at the chandelier and began to count the prisms,and watch for the times that the breeze swept across them and set themto tinkling.
Then, the next thing that he knew he was waking from a long doze onBarby's shoulder. She was fanning him with slow sweeps of herwhite-feathered fan which smelled deliciously of some faint perfume, andthe man from Boston was singing all alone, something about still wavesand being brought into a haven.
A sense of Sabbath peace and stillness enfolded him, with the beauty ofthe music and the lilies, the tinkling prisms, the faint, warm perfumewafted across his face by Barby's fan. The memory of it all stayed withhim as something very sacred and sweet, he could not tell why, unless itwas that Barby's shoulder was such a dear place for a little motherlesslad's head to lie.
Georgina, leaning against Barby on the other side, half asleep, sat upand straightened her hat when the anthem began. Being a Huntingdon shecould not turn as some people did and stare up at the choir loft behindher when that wonderful voice sang alone. She looked up at the prismsinstead, and as she looked it seemed to her that the voice was the voiceof the white angel Hope, standing at the prow of a boat, its goldenwings sweeping back, as storm-tossed but triumphant, it brought thevessel in at last to happy anchorage.
The words which the voice sang were the words on which the rainbow hadrested, that day she read them to Aunt Elspeth: "_So He bringeth theminto their desired haven._" They had seemed like music then, but now,rolling upward, as if Hope herself were singing them at the prow ofLife's tossing shallop, they were more than music. They voiced the joyof great desire finding great fulfilment.
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