CHAPTER V
A CAMERA HELPS
SEVERAL days after his return from Lexington, Leland Harcourt saunteredout of the house, after a late breakfast alone. The bored expression onhis face showed plainly what he thought of the Valley as a summerresort. His brother and Lucy were off somewhere about the grounds, andfor more than an hour the faint sound of Gay's violin had been floatingup from the rustic arbour, which she claimed as her private domain.
It was a pleasant little retreat, far back from the road in the densebeech shade, and at such a distance from the house that her energeticpractising could disturb no one. Here every morning before thedistractions of the day began, she religiously devoted an hour to hermusic. The time always slipped past that limit if no one came to stopher, for an absorbing devotion to her work made her oblivious toeverything else when her beloved violin was once tucked under her chin.Scales and trills and chords, all the finger exercises that kept hertouch supple and sure, were gone through with in faithful routine. Thenthe new music she was mastering had its share of careful attention, andafter that she played on and on, as a bird sings, from sheer love of it.
She was improvising when Leland came out on the porch, a lightrollicking little tune, to fit a verse from an Uncle Remus song. It wasa verse which Alex Shelby had repeated as he escorted them over to TheBeeches, the time they spent the night there, the next night after theirburglar scare at the Cabin. Lucy had been so frightened that she gladlyaccepted Mrs. Walton's invitation to stay with her until the men of thefamily returned.
They had had such a good time. Now the recollection of it was findingvoice in the tune which Gay was trying to manufacture for the wordswhich Alex had laughingly sung when Lucy stuck in the barb wire fence onthe way over:
"Hop light, ladies, Oh, Miss Loo, Hit take a heap er scrougin' Fer to git you throo. Hop light, ladies, oh, Miss Loo!"
Gay recalled the straggling little procession through the woods with asmile, as her bow quavered again through the refrain. They must havelooked ridiculous. There was Lucy lugging the heavy silver pitcher andJameson's ladle because she was afraid to leave them behind, and sheherself with her violin case, and Alex carrying the Lindsey spoons andforks and the enormous seven-branched silver candle-sticks, because Lucyfelt responsible for their safety, since she had rented them with thehouse. And there was Ranald bringing up the rear with their suit-cases,and Kitty laughing at them all for bringing these household gods. Shecalled Lucy "Ephraim joined to his idols," because she would not putdown the pitcher and ladle even while she crawled through the barb wirefence. They had cut across lots in the twilight, instead of going aroundby the road, not wanting to be seen with a load which looked so muchlike burglar's booty.
"If Leland only could have been with us then!" thought Gay regretfully."And the night before that when we had such a jolly time with the taffyand the duets. He would have been on a real friendly footing with themall by this time. But he's beginning to find it dull. I know he is.He'll be off again before long if we can't get him interested insomething."
While she was worrying over his evident restlessness and discontent, theodour of his cigar came floating out to her, and she knew by that tokenthat he had finished breakfast and needed to be amused. Locking herviolin in its case, she carried it back to the house, prepared toshoulder her share of this responsibility.
"Good morning, Brer Tarrypin," she called as she came in sight of himlolling in the hammock. "Lounjoun' roun' as usual, I see. Well, the mailtrain is in, so you can come with me to the post-office as soon as I getmy hat."
"Good heavens, Pug!" he groaned. "I vow you're worse than a littlevolcano--always in action."
Nevertheless he got up, as she knew he would, and strolled along besideher. The road in front of the post-office was almost blocked withcarriages. On summer mornings like this nearly every one in the Valleyfound some excuse to be at the station when the mail train came in; forwhile they waited for the delivery window to open, there was time notonly to attend to the day's marketing, but to meet all one's friends. Atsuch times the little box of a post-office was the very centre ofneighbourhood sociability, and since everybody knew everybody else, thegathering was as informal as a family reunion.
Even Gay felt like an old settler. Her previous visit to the Valley hadgiven her so many acquaintances. As she passed down the straggling lineof men and boys who were leaning against the fence or sitting on the toprail while they waited, hats were swept off as if a sudden breeze hadscurried along the path. Several of the old Confederate soldiers spokeher name as they saluted. She had played for them up at the Home twiceon that former visit.
"Oh, the dear little, queer little Valley," she began, but wasinterrupted by Leland's calling her attention to the Sherman carriage,which was moving in and out at a snail's pace through the blockade ofvehicles, stopping repeatedly as greetings were called out to it fromthe other carriages. Gay's face brightened as she saw Lloyd on the backseat, looking as fresh as a snowdrop in her white linen dress.
"Oh, if she'd only ask us up to Locust to spend the morning!" thoughtGay so earnestly that it seemed to her that Lloyd must feel the force ofthe "thought-wave" she was trying to project. "It's high time for herto remember her promise if she expects to accomplish anything."
Lloyd was remembering her promise. It recurred to her the instant thatshe caught sight of Leland's dark interesting face as he turned thecorner. As instantly she had looked away, remembering how pointedly hehad ignored her that night at the Cabin. This was the first time she hadseen him since. Now Gay's request seemed utterly absurd. The coloursurged up in her face as she remembered her high resolve about lightinga vestal fire on the altar of a promise. How ridiculous of her to haveworked herself up into such an exalted mood over nothing. A positivedislike for the man who had been the cause of it took possession of her,and she wished heartily that she need never meet him again.
But an encounter could not be avoided long. Gay was pushing eagerlythrough the crowd towards the carriage. She would call her in a moment,then she would have to turn around and at least be decently polite. Justthen a stylish little runabout stopped opposite the carriage, and a ladyleaned out to accost Lloyd. Thankful for the opportunity, Lloyd turnedher back squarely on the post-office and plunged into an animatedconversation. Without glancing in their direction she was consciousthat Gay and Mr. Harcourt were on the curbstone directly behind her, andwould come up the moment that she stopped talking.
"Yes, of co'se, Miss Jennie," they heard her say. "I'm going to town onthe next car, and I'll be glad to get it for you. Yes, we're all goingin for a day's shopping. Mothah and Betty are ovah at the trolleystation now, waiting for me to get the mail."
Miss Jennie, giving voluble directions, began hunting through herpocketbook for a sample of ribbon which she wanted matched. Gay's hopesfell. She had counted confidently on taking Leland up to the Locusts tospend the morning. But just then Lloyd waved her handkerchief to someone coming down the avenue, and turning, Gay's face brightened. It wasKitty Walton to whom Lloyd had waved. Strolling along under a whiteparasol, in a pale pink dress and with a great bunch of sweet peas inher hand, she looked so attractive, that Gay felt that Leland would findThe Beeches fully as entertaining a loafing-place as The Locusts. Shedecided to take him up there. Again she was doomed to disappointment,for Kitty's cordial greeting was followed by the almost breathlessannouncement that she was about to take her departure from the Valley.
"Oh, when?" called Lloyd, turning to the girls with the friendliest ofsmiles, and acknowledging Mr. Harcourt's greeting with a frosty littlebow. "When, where and whyfoah?"
"This evening," answered Kitty, "over to the Martinsville Springs inIndiana, and because mother is firmly convinced that they are thepanacea for all the ills that flesh is heir to. Really they do help herwonderfully, and she needs the change, and I like the place myself soI'm not sorry to go for some reasons. But I do hate to take ten wholedays out of your visit, Gay."
"You can't
hate it half as much as I do," answered Gay gloomily, who hadnot overlooked Lloyd's cool little bow to Leland. For Lloyd to actsnippy and Kitty to be away ten whole days right in the beginning ofthings was fatal to all her plans.
It was just then that help came from a most unexpected source. Not thatshe realized then that it was help, but weeks afterward she traced backseveral important things to that small beginning.
Miss Katherine Marks came out of the post-office with a handful ofletters. She was about to pass the group beside the Sherman carriagewith only a brief "good morning," when the sight of Kitty's sweet peasmade her pause.
"That reminds me, Kitty," she said. "I've finished mounting that gardenphotograph. You may see it now, whenever you come over."
"I'll come right now, Miss Katherine," was the eager response. "I'm wildto see it, and as we're going to Martinsville this evening this will bemy only chance."
Seeing the unspoken wish in Gay's eager eyes, Miss Marks included all ofthem in the invitation. Lloyd glanced at her watch and excused herself,finding that the car she wanted to take was almost due. She would haveto hurry to reach the station she said. But even in her haste shenoticed that Leland did not join in the regret which the othersexpressed, and grown unduly sensitive in regard to his opinion, shefancied that he looked pleased when she refused. He lifted his hatperfunctorily, not even glancing at her as he moved away, seeminglyabsorbed in adjusting Kitty's parasol, which he had taken possession of,and was holding over her.
Gay walked on with Miss Marks. Kitty had to stop a moment at the Bisbeecottage, to leave the sweet peas with a message from her mother. Lelandwaited for her at the gate.
"What is this you're getting me into?" he asked, nodding towards MissMarks and Gay, who were almost out of sight.
If he had asked the question of Gay she would have explained eagerlythat they were on their way to Clovercroft, to see a collection ofamateur photographs which had taken prizes and gold medals all over thecountry, and among them were three at least, that she knew he would wantso desperately, that he would fall all over himself trying to get them.But it would be of no use to try. He could neither beg, borrow, buy norsteal them. He might thank his lucky stars that he was permitted just tostand afar off and gaze at them in hopeless admiration.
But Kitty, instead of enlightening him in any such way turned the talkinto channels of more personal interest, and made the short stroll soagreeable that it came to an end entirely too soon. He followed herthrough the gate wishing that he could invent some excuse whereby toprolong the pleasure of making her blush and seeing her dark eyes lookup laughingly at him from under the white parasol. At the same time hewanted to escape the bore of being expected to grow enthusiastic oversome amateur collection in which he felt no interest.
Something of this he expressed in an undertone to Kitty as they steppedup on to the porch.
"Don't flatter yourself," she advised him, dropping into a seat, "thatyou'll be allowed a peep into Miss Katherine's studio. Strangers neverget any farther than the Court of the Gentiles."
"Gay has gone in," he answered, "and her introduction antedates mine notmore than two seconds. Why shouldn't I?"
"Gay is one of the elect. She has the artist soul herself, and MissKatherine recognizes the earmarks."
"You insinuate that I haven't them?"
Kitty smiled tantalizingly, and swung her parasol back and forth by itsivory crook. "No, indeed. I'm not insinuating anything. I'm simplystating a broad truth. You can't get in. She'll bring out dozens ofpictures for your inspection, but she'll not invite you inside thatstudio. Very few people are so favoured."
Up to that moment he had not had the faintest wish to set foot insidethe studio, but her provoking assertions suddenly seemed to make it theone desirable spot for him to enter. "I'll show you," he declaredrashly. "I'll see it before we leave here. I always get what I want. Nowwatch me."
Miss Marks came out with a large photograph exquisitely tinted. Soartistic it was, both in colouring and composition, that Leland'sadmiration was as great as his surprise. He had expected to see somelittle snap shots such as he had made himself when he had the kodakfever, the kind that are interesting only to those who take them andthose who are taken. This was so beautiful that no sooner was it in hishands than he was fired with a desire to possess it. It was the pictureof a rose garden, every bush a glory of bloom, and in the path, her pinkdress caught by a clinging brier, was Kitty herself like another rose,looking down over her shoulder at the bramble which held her a prisonerin its thorny clasp.
"It is to illustrate a fairy-tale," explained Miss Marks. "When naughtyEsmerelda runs away from the good prince, everything in the garden is inleague to help him, and Brier Rose catches at her skirts as she hurriesby, and holds her fast."
"Isn't it lovely?" cried Gay, flashing out of the studio with an armfulwhich Miss Marks had given her permission to show. "Here's Betty takenas a nun--_Sister Doloroso_--and Lloyd as an Easter angel. It'sperfectly fascinating to hear Miss Marks tell how she got that effect offlying. Arranged the draperies with Lloyd lying on the floor, andphotographed her from a trap door above. Tell him how you added thedoves' wings please."
Much to her surprise Miss Marks found herself telling things to thisyoung man that she would not have dreamed of telling to anotherstranger; some of the remarkable makeshifts she had used in costumes andbackgrounds. His flattering air of interest drew these confidences fromher as irresistibly as a magnet draws steel.
"You ought to do a series of these garden pictures," he declared, "andcall them 'Garden Fancies' after that poem of Browning's. By the way,there is a couplet in that which would lend itself charmingly toillustration, and I saw the very garden that you should use for it,while I was out driving yesterday. It was one of those straight walkprim bordered affairs that go with old English cottages."
He could have found no surer path to Miss Marks's good graces. Gay, notknowing that he had a purpose to gain by it, listened in amazement as heproceeded to outline picture after picture for the series of GardenFancies, even planning costumes and suggesting clever means by whichvarious obstacles might be overcome. Her astonishment showed itself inher face, when he even consented to pose himself, as a Spanishtroubadour in a moonlit garden with a guitar.
Kitty, who knew the object of this sudden interest in photography,laughed outright, but nobody noticed her irrelevant mirth. Miss Markswas too interested in the new plan, and Gay was too puzzled over hisrapidly growing enthusiasm. Presently, darting a triumphant look atKitty, from the corner of his eye, he rose to follow Miss Marks. She wasactually taking him into her inner courts. Kitty made a little grimacebehind his back. She resented his I-told-you-so air, but she could nothelp admiring the masterful way in which he had gained his end.
One hasty glance around the studio changed his assumed interest intoreal. Impressed by the wonderful results Miss Marks had obtained by thecombination of brush and camera, he was seized by a wish to do somethingin the same line himself. Accustomed to the impulsiveness of hisenthusiasms, Gay was not surprised when he began to persuade Miss Marksto start to work on the Garden Fancies then and there.
The English garden was too far away for them to attempt that morning,but Miss Marks finally agreed that the moonlight scene might be managed.It was just the right time of day to take a moonlight picture, while thesunshine was so direct that it would cast the blackest of shadows. Shecould retouch the plate to give it the right effect, and paint in amoon.
"You'll have to hurry if I'm to be in it," ordered Kitty, "for Mother iswaiting for me this blessed minute. I've a world of things to do in thenext few hours."
"Give us just a quarter of one of them," begged Leland. "I'll attend tothe balcony part if Miss Marks will look after the costumes and tell mewhere to find a step-ladder."
"Leland has plenty to amuse him now," thought Gay happily, as shewatched him giving directions to Frazer, the coloured man, who came inanswer to Miss Marks's call. "His foot is on his native heath and hisname's
'McGregor' when it comes to a thing of this sort."
Ten minutes later Kitty found herself looking out of an improvisedbalcony, a charming affair outwardly, but most laughable within. A tallstep-ladder had been dragged into the bay window of the music room, andthe upper sash of the middle window pushed down from the top. The thickvines that grew over it were pulled back to leave an oval opening. Itwas out of this leafy oval she leaned from her seat on the top of theladder, to smile down on the troubadour below. There was a rose in herdark hair, a half-furled fan in her hand, and a coquettish glance in herlaughing black eyes.
Leland's costume had been hastily constructed from scraps of stageproperty kept for such occasions. It took but a moment to drape a longcape over one shoulder in graceful folds, twist a piece of velvet into alittle cap and pin a white plume on one side. A row of potted plantslaboriously put in place by Frazer hid the fact that he wore moderntrousers instead of the more picturesque knee breeches which such acostume demanded.
"Fire away," he ordered, adjusting the guitar to a more comfortableposition.
"Suppose you sing a verse of a real serenade," suggested Miss Marks, "soas to get into the proper spirit of the thing. Then just as you finish,while you're looking soulfully into each other's eyes, I'll squeeze thebulb."
Kitty, seeing the seamy side of his improvised cap, and feeling theabsurdity of her position on the top of the step-ladder, could onlygiggle when she tried to look soulful. But Leland had taken part in toomany private theatricals to be disconcerted now. With as impassioned agaze as any Romeo ever fixed on his Juliet, he struck the soft chords ofa Spanish serenade, and began to sing so meaningly that Kitty's gigglewas silenced, and she looked down with a conscious blush:
"Thine eyes are stars of morning, Thy lips are crimson flowers. Good night, good night, beloved, While I count the weary hours."
"There! That ought to be perfect," cried Miss Marks, emerging from underthe black cloth which covered the camera. "Mr. Harcourt, you're the mostsatisfactory man I've ever had pose for me. It's easy enough to get ascore of pretty girls any time I need them, but it isn't once in adecade one finds such an altogether desirable model of a man. You seemto know by intuition exactly the right positions to fall into. I'm surethe series will be a success now."
Leland bowed his appreciation of the compliment, and Gay, knowing hisvulnerable spot and how secretly pleased he was, could have danced abreakdown in her delight.
As they were all eager to see the result, Miss Marks took herself atonce to the dark room with the plate, promising they should have a proofbefore time for the Martinsville train. Then Gay and Leland walked homewith Kitty, and stayed talking awhile on the shady porch.
"It's been a very decent sort of morning," Leland admitted on his wayhome to lunch. A siesta in the hammock shortened the afternoon. He wasin a most agreeable mood when they drove over to the station to see theWaltons off on their train.
Better than her promise, Miss Marks had sent a finished picture insteadof a proof. It was fully as good as the one of Brier Rose and Esmerelda,and Leland was enthusiastic in his admiration of the balcony he hadimprovised, and the Spanish beauty within it. When it had passed aroundthe circle he coolly took possession of it, although Kitty claimed it,as Frazer had brought it up to The Beeches.
"I'll keep it till your return, Miss Kitty," he said. "You have yourmirror, so you don't need this. It may inspire me to run over to theSprings myself a few days to see the original if you stay away toolong."
Something in the light tone made Gay glance up quickly. She groaned asshe saw the admiration his expressive eyes showed so plainly.
"Now he's gone and done it!" she thought in dismay. "He's taken a fancyto Kitty instead of Lloyd, when I've set my heart on saving Kitty forFrank Percival. May blessings light on those old Martinsville Springsfor taking her out of the way for awhile! Maybe I can get him switchedoff on the other track before she comes back."
The Little Colonel's Knight Comes Riding Page 8