Sweetapple Cove

by George Van Schaick

  CHAPTER XIV

  _From Miss Helen Jelliffe to Miss Jane Van Zandt_

  _Dearest Aunt Jennie_:

  I am writing again so soon because I don't think I can sleep, to-night.I know that some people can't possibly slumber off when they areover-tired. That must be the matter with me, though I never realized it.

  We had no more hunting after we killed that caribou. That night wecamped, and I heard stories, from two poor, humble men, that made my headjust whirl, for they were really Odysseys, or sagas, or any of the bigtales one ever heard of. It would seem, Aunt Jennie, dear, as if theworld is not at all the prosy thing some people take it to be. I supposethat the great knights and warriors are altogether out of it now, but Ifind that it is running over with men one usually never hears of, whoaccomplish tremendous things without the slightest accompaniment of drumsor clarions.

  We started back after a night during which I slept like a dead thing, butnaturally I was the most alive girl you ever saw when I awoke. The menwent away to where we had left the dead stag and returned with bighaunches and other butcher-shop things, which they packed up in hugeloads. It appears that my lucky shot has contributed considerably to theprovisionment of Sweetapple Cove.

  By the way, this place, which I once rather despised, looked mostattractive when we came down towards it from the hills. I could see thebeautiful, white _Snowbird_ at anchor, looking very small, and thesunlight played on the brass binnacle which shone like a burning light.Near it, very lowly and humble, rode the poor little fishing smacks thatare far more important to the world's welfare than our expensiveplaything. The crop of drying cod was spread out on the flakes, as usual,and tiny specks of women and children were bending over them, turning thefish, piling them up, bearing some of them away on hand-barrows, andbringing fresh loads to scatter in the sun.

  When we reached the house we found Daddy lying on the steamer chair. Hewas engaged in deep converse with our skipper, who left at once. Thedoctor only remained a few minutes, and then Susie appeared, her rubicundface framed in the mighty antlers of my quarry. Daddy laughed heartily.

  "The two Dianas of Sweetapple Cove!" he exclaimed. "My dear, you ought tobear the bow and quiver and to sport the crescent on your queenly brow.Now tell me all about it! How are you, and what kind of a time have youhad? I need not ask about the sport for you have brought the evidencewith you. Isn't it a wonderful head? I call it rather cruel to beparading such things before a poor cripple."

  "I'm sure glad enough ter get rid o' he," quoth Susie, with a sigh ofrelief. "It lugs fair clumsy. I'll be goin' over ter Sammy's house now.He've got the tenderlines in th' pack of he and ter-morrer ye's goin' terfeed on something worth bitin' inter. Ef yer doesn't say so I'll be awfulfooled. And yer better shift yer stockin's right now, ma'am, 'causewalkin' all day in the mash is bound ter soak yer feet spite o' goodboots. I'll be back in a minnut."

  The good creature dashed away on her errand, and we were left to tell ourtales.

  "It was perfectly splendid, Daddy," I told him. "I hope they have takengood care of you and you were a dear to let me go. I have had such awonderful time!"

  "I am delighted, my dear," he said, "but now you had better run away andfollow Susie's advice."

  "Just a moment, Daddy," I pleaded. "I have had wet feet for two days anda minute more won't hurt me. Indeed I killed the big caribou, and Dr.Grant was ever so kind, as he always is. He said he would try to come infor supper. Oh! You ought to have seen that big stag, and how proudly hestepped out into that brook, all alert, and how he started to run. Andthen I shot, and the doctor found him for me. It was wonderful!"

  "That doctor is a fine fellow," said Dad.

  Of course I agreed with him. It is quite amazing how Daddy has taken toDr. Grant, but then I don't see how one could help it. The doctor is avery quiet man, excepting when he gets enthusiastic or mad about things,and one thinks at first that he is rather distant in his manner. But whenyou know him much better he comes right out and shows just as much redblood as those boys at home. I wonder why he keeps on living atSweetapple Cove?

  So I went off to change my shoes and stockings, which were quite soakedthrough, and then I sat again with Daddy and told him a lot more aboutour trip. I wish I could have explained everything to him, but of courseI couldn't make him see the color of those far-away hills and the perfectbeauty of those great marshes. I told him all about the camp by thelittle lake, and the winding distant river, and the cries of theptarmigans and the loons, and the finding of the stag.

  "Helen dear," said Daddy, who had been looking at me in that keen way ofhis, "I don't think I ever saw you so enthusiastic before. Your mind hasbeen fully opened to the charm of the wilderness, and that is somethingthat city people seldom understand. You were never so earnest before.What is it? Are you developing new traits?"

  Of course I laughed at this, and yet it seemed to me also as if somethingwere changed. I didn't quite know what Daddy meant, because it issometimes difficult to know whether he is jesting or in earnest. He oncetold me that this was a rather good business asset.

  "Well, Daddy," I finally said. "I am afraid you will have to take meaway, or I shall be falling so much in love with Sweetapple Cove that Iwill never want to leave it again."

  "We will leave to-morrow, if you want to," he said, in a rather abruptway.

  Do you know, Aunt Jennie, that when he said that I just gasped a little.It suddenly seemed so strange that we would have to go away soon, andthat I might never see Sweetapple Cove again, and those dear Barnetts,and all the people, for the whole lot of them appear to have a way ofstealing into one's heart.

  "I don't really want to go at once, Daddy," I told him. "It will take afew days to get used to the idea, and to get everything ready. And Dr.Grant says that very soon you will be able to walk without a cane. Do letus put it off for another week."

  Daddy smiled vaguely, and finally nodded his consent. He is always sogood about trying to please me. So I went and got my knitting and satdown at the foot of the big chair.

  "I'm afraid I'll never finish it before we leave," I said, "and I doubtwhether I will ever quite solve the mystery of turning heels."

  "That's too bad," said Daddy. "I expected to wear those things inVirginia this fall, after quail, or on the Chesapeake when thecanvas-backs are flying."

  "I am afraid you will have to buy some, Daddy," I answered.

  So I sat beside him, at his feet, and I think my mood had changed alittle. Perhaps it was fatigue, which I didn't really feel. I supposethat people can have things the matter with them without knowing anythingabout it. Daddy's dear old hand rested for a moment on my head, and I hadto stop knitting. I don't think I ever felt so queerly before, and I hadto look over Sweetapple Cove and follow the flight of the gulls, untilthe shadows grew quite long and the clouds became tinted with rose, andDaddy asked me to get him a cigar, and I was glad he interrupted my sillythoughts. I must have been really very tired.

  * * * * *

  I could only write a little while, last night. We had some caribou steakwhich Daddy became quite enthusiastic over, but I didn't feel hungry, andI went to bed early, but somehow I slept poorly. It is funny that one canbe tired for several days at a time. And to-day, Aunt Jennie, some queerthings have happened, and the life that has so often felt like dreams hasbecome very serious, and I have seen some of the inner working of eventssuch as make one feel that existence has cruel sides to it.

  All this morning I dawdled about the house. I had expected Dr. Grant tocall and see Daddy, but he had been sent for, a short distance away, inthe boat.

  Rather late this afternoon he returned, and I strolled over towards thecove when I saw the tiny schooner come in. It is a poor enough littleship, but it is wonderful to think how it bears with it such comfort andhelp to so many suffering people.

  I was within a few yards of him, and he was lifting his cap when afisherman rushed up to him.

  "Ye're wanted ter Atkins'," said the man. "T
hey is a child there as isawful sick. They brung 'un over from Edward's Bay, this mornin', an' th'mother she be prayin' fer ye to come."

  "All right," he answered. "Sammy, bring my bag up with you and I'll hurryup at once."

  He only smiled at me, in his pleasant way, for he rushed by me, runningup the rough path in great strides, and of course I could only go back toour house, where I sat with Daddy on the porch.

  From where I sat I could see Atkins' house. It is only a little way fromus, up the hill. There were a number of people assembled in front of it,because whenever any one is hurt or very ill they are apt to gatheraround, as people do sometimes in New York before a house where anambulance has stopped. Then I saw the doctor sprinting out towardsSammy's house, whence he returned carrying another bag. Of course I haveseveral times helped him a little, in the last month, when Mrs. Barnettdidn't get in ahead of me, so I rose.

  "I am going up to Atkins'," I told Dad. "I wonder what is the matter. Ishall only be gone a few minutes."

  So I ran away, bare-headed, and rushed to the place, but before I reachedit Mrs. Barnett arrived there, all out of breath.

  When I passed through the waiting people I heard Dr. Grant's voice, andhe spoke very angrily. I had never thought before that he could get quiteso mad. There was a swarm of women in the house, some of them with babiesin their arms, and a few children, among whom was Frenchy's little boy,had also slipped in.

  "Get out of here!" he was shouting, roughly. "All of you but the child'smother and Mrs. Atkins. Haven't I told you it is dangerous? Do you wantto spread this thing about and kill off all your children? And you, Mrs.Barnett, must give the example. I won't have you running chances withthose babies of yours. Do get out, like a dear woman, and chevy theseother ones out with you."

  He was bustling them all out like a lot of hens, in his effective,energetic way, and then he saw me.

  "I want you to get out too, Miss Jelliffe," he ordered me. "This is a badcase of diphtheria. The child is choking and I must relieve it at once."

  I took a few steps back, rather resentfully, because I had never beenspoken to in that way before, and I thought it very rude of him, but Idid not leave the place. The doctor was very busy with some instrumentsand perhaps had forgotten my presence.

  He made the woman sit on a stool, with the little girl wrapped in a sheetand sitting on her lap. I saw him take up a shiny instrument, which hefastened in the baby's mouth, notwithstanding her struggles.

  "Now hold her firmly," he ordered, "and you, Mrs. Atkins, get behind herand take her head. Hold it steady, just this way. Never mind her crying."

  But the little one wrenched herself away from the woman's grasp. Thebreath entered its lungs with an awful long hoarse sound and the poorlittle lips were very blue.

  "For God's sake, hold her better," he cried again.

  "I'm all of a tremble," said Mrs. Atkins, weeping. "She's sure goin' terdie. I kin never hold her, she do be fightin' me so."

  Of course there was only one thing to do. I ran out of the corner towhich I had retreated and pushed the foolish woman away and seized thebaby's head so that it could not move.

  Dr. Grant stared at me, shaking his head, but I suppose I looked at himdefiantly, for I was really angry with him.

  "This is all wrong, Miss Jelliffe," he said. "You should not exposeyourself to this infection."

  He spoke so quietly that I became rather sorry I had been provoked athim, but he paid no more heed to me. Once he placed a hand on one ofmine, to show me exactly how to hold the head, and then he took a longhandle to which something was fastened at right angles. The child's mouthwas widely opened by the gag he had inserted, and his left finger wentswiftly down into the child's throat and the instrument, pushed by hisright hand, followed, incredibly quick. There was just a rapid motion, Iheard the release of a catch, and then, suddenly, there was a terrifyingattack of violent coughing. But in a moment this ceased, the child layback quietly in her mother's arms, the color began to return to her lips,and she was breathing quietly. Then we watched, in silence, and finallythe little head turned to one side and the baby closed her eyes, whilethe poor woman's tears streamed down and even fell on the tiny face.

  "She is all right for the time being," said Dr. Grant, in that quietvoice of his, which I have heard change so quickly. "If she can onlyresist until the antitoxine acts upon her we may pull her through. I amgreatly obliged to you, Miss Jelliffe. I am afraid your father will scoldus both for taking such chances with your health."

  But by this time my eyes were full of tears also, I don't know why. I wasunsteady on my feet and held on to the back of a chair.

  "I never saw anything like this before," I said. "I didn't quite realizethat it ever happened. The poor little thing was dying, and you did itall so quickly! That thing went in like a flash, and then she coughed soand I thought she was lost. And now she sleeps, and I am sure you havesaved her, and she must get well. How dreadful it was, at first, and howwonderfully beautiful it is to be able to do such things! I am so glad!"

  Wasn't it silly of me to get so excited, Aunt Jennie. But I suppose onecan't understand such happenings until one has witnessed them. I knowthat I had taken the doctor's arm, without realizing what I was doing,and found myself patting it, stupidly, like a silly, hysterical thing.

  His face was very serious, just then, and he looked at me as if he hadbeen studying another patient. Then came that little smile of his, verykindly, which made me feel better.

  "I think you had better go now, Miss Jelliffe," he advised. "I beg younot to expose yourself further. It is a duty you owe your good old fatherand any one who cares for you."

  Then I was myself again. The excitement of those tense moments had passedaway and I knew I had been a little foolish and that he spoke ever sogently.

  "I will go since you wish me to," I answered. "But I am ever so glad thatI was able to help you. You will come to supper, won't you?"

  "I am afraid you will have to excuse me," he said. "I can hardly do sonow, for I must remain here and watch this child for some time. You willplease change all your clothing and have it hung out on the line, andyou will gargle your throat with something I will send you. I'll callto-morrow and see your father, and give you the latest news of thislittle patient."

  "I didn't know that you ever got so angry," I said, now prompted by somespirit of mischief. "You were in a dreadful temper when I came in."

  "Of course I was," he readily admitted. "But do you realize that this isthe continuation of an old story. This woman was in St. John's last week,with the child, and I suppose they may have brought the disease fromthere. Then the child became ill, the night before last, and she waitsuntil this morning to bring it over to me. When she reaches here shefinds me away, but of course every woman in the place strolls in, withchildren in arms, to look on and give advice. We may be in for a fineepidemic. I shall have to send to St. John's at once for a new supply ofantitoxine. I have only a little, and it is not very fresh. Atkins isaway with his schooner but he is expected to-morrow. I hope he turns up.Thank you ever so much, Miss Jelliffe. Now please run away and follow mydirections."

  So I left him and returned to the house and obeyed his orders. We soonhad supper, but when I told Daddy all about it, it was his turn to beangry.

  "That's all very well," he said, "but after all he could have found someone else to help him and you had no business to disobey. When the timecomes for you to have babies of your own you can risk your life for themas much as you please, but you have no right to run into danger now. Youare my only child, and I have no one else to love since your poor motherdied. Please don't do such things again. Grant was perfectly right intrying to chase you away. He should have taken a stick to you."

  Daddy's ruffled tempers are never proof against my method of smoothingthe raging seas. My arm around his neck and a kiss will make him eat outof my hand, as Harry Lawrence puts it. Naturally he succumbed again andin a minute was just as nice as ever.

  We had only just fin
ished our supper when Frenchy came in, leading hislittle boy by the hand. He bore a letter which he gravely handed to Daddywho, as usual, had to look into three or four pockets before he found hisglasses. Then he read, and his face became serious, as it always doeswhen he takes sudden decisions.

  "Yves," he said, "will you oblige me by going down to the cove at onceand hailing the schooner. I want my captain to come over here."

  Frenchy departed, after saluting as usual, his little fellow trottingbeside him, and Daddy, without a word, handed the letter to me. I readas follows:

  _Dear Mr. Jelliffe_:

  I had intended to see you to-morrow morning, and expect to do so, but Ibelieve it might be best for you to obtain my advice at once. MissJelliffe has doubtless told you how she helped me with a case ofdiphtheria, although I am sure she omitted to say how brave and helpfulshe was. The danger to her is comparatively slight, I am sure, yet wemust not forget that such a danger exists. If you were to start to-morrowmorning you could be in St. John's before night. From there two dayswould find you in Halifax and two more in New York, so that you would bealways near good care and advice.

  With a little care and prudence in regard to your leg I am sure that youcan reach home quite safely.

  With kindest regards,Very sincerely yours,JOHN GRANT.

  I stared at Daddy, hardly knowing what to say.

  "That boy has a lot of good sound horse-sense!" he exclaimed. "I am justgoing to follow his advice. Bring me my check-book. I am going to makeout something for that little parson. He needs a place to give the folkswhat he calls readings, and other things. He told me that two-fifty wouldgive him unutterable joy. I'll make it five hundred so that he can shout.Now in regard to Dr. Grant...."

  "Are we really going to-morrow, Daddy?" I interrupted.

  "You bet we are going to-morrow, always providing that yacht of ours isready. I gave orders yesterday to have something done and...."

  But I didn't listen any more. I went to the window and drew aside thelittle curtain. Down below, in the cove, I could see the _Snowbird's_anchor light, gleaming brilliantly. The windows of some of the housesshed a sickly pale radiance, but beyond this everything was in darkness,with just the faintest suggestion of enormous masses representing thejagged cliffs. There was not a single star in the heavens, and all atonce everything seemed to be plunged in desolation. It felt as when oneawakes in the darkness from some beautiful dream. I knew then that Iwould be actually home-sick for Sweetapple Cove when I returned to NewYork.

  Please don't laugh at me, Aunt Jennie dear, you know I have had no onebut you to confide in since I have grown out of short skirts. Perhapsit was this thing I saw in Atkins' house that has upset me so, and Isuppose that my life has always been too easy, and that I have not beenprepared to meet some of the grim horrors it can reveal to one.

  I could not think of leaving without saying good-by to Mrs. Barnett. Myhand shook as I pushed a hatpin through my cap. Then I told Daddy where Iwas going and ran out into the darkness.

  When I reached the poor little house they insist on calling the rectorythe dear woman opened her arms to greet me, and I saw that her beautifuleyes were filled with tears.

  "What is the matter, dear?" I asked.

  "I was a coward to-day," she cried. "Such an awful coward! I had nobusiness to leave when Dr. Grant told me to. I should have stayed andhelped. But when he spoke of diphtheria I couldn't help it and thought ofmy little chaps. I have already seen that dreadful thing come and sweeplittle lives away, just in a day or two. It took the one we buried on theother side of the cove, and we saw it suffocating, helpless to aid. Andthat's why I ran out, terror-stricken. But I hear that you held the babyfor him. You don't know what it is to have babies of your own, and werenot afraid. It is dreadful, you know, that fear that comes in a mother'sheart!"

  She looked quite weak when she sat down, in a poor, worn, upholsteredchair that was among the things they brought from England, and I sat onthe arm of it, beside her.

  "I have changed all my clothes," I told her, "and I don't think I'mdangerous. Now Daddy insists that we must leave to-morrow, and I'mjust broken-hearted about it. Dr. Grant wrote him that it would be betterfor us to leave, but I don't want to go."

  "Did the doctor write that?" she exclaimed.

  "Yes, because there might be danger in my staying longer. Why can't Ishare it with all the others who will have to stay here? I shall neverforgive him!"

  I suppose that we were both rather excited, and I know I had to dab myeyes with my handkerchief. Then Mrs. Barnett forgot all about her ownworries, for she was patting me on the arm, looking at me intently allthe time, just as Daddy has been doing, in a queer way that I can'tunderstand.

  "I daresay it will be best for both of you," she said, in that sweetestvoice of hers.

  "Yes, I think Daddy wants to get back," I said, and she stared at meagain, as I rose and bade her good-by.

  "Don't say it yet, dear," she told me, "I will certainly come down to seeyou off in the morning. It has been so delightful to have had you hereall these weeks, and I shall miss you dreadfully when you are gone. I canhardly bear to think of it."

  So I kissed her and had to tear myself away. Like a pair of silly womenwe were on the verge of tears once more, and there was nothing left forme to do but to run.

  It was perhaps some unusual effect of the night air, but I was quitehusky when I spoke to Daddy again.

  "You will be glad to get back, won't you. Daddy?" I asked him. "It willbe so nice for you to go to the club again, and see all your oldfriends."

  He looked at me, and only nodded in a noncommittal way.

  "I will leave you now," I said. "There is a lot of packing to do, andthat poor silly Susie is perfectly useless, since she heard we weregoing. She is sitting on a stool in the kitchen and weeping herself intoa fit. Her nose is the reddest thing you ever saw. But you and I are oldtravelers, aren't we, and used to quick changes? You remember, in Europe,how we used to get to little towns and decide in a moment whether wewould stay or not, when we were tired of all those old museums andcathedrals?"

  But Daddy only patted my hand, and I have decided that he is awonderfully clever man. I am sure he understood that I was just forcingmyself to talk, and that he could say nothing that would make me feelbetter.

  Then there was a knock at the door, and Stefansson came in with one ofhis long faces.

  "Good evening," said Daddy. "Have a cigar? The box is there on the table.I have good news for you, since I know you don't enjoy this place much.Too far from Long Island Sound, isn't it? I want to sail to-morrowmorning."

  Our skipper's long Swedish face lengthened out a bit more, and he lookeda very picture of distress.

  "But you told me yesterday that you were going to stay at least anotherweek, Mr. Jelliffe," he objected. "So to-day when the engineer he tellsme about bearings needing new packing, and about a connecting rod being abit loose, I told him to get busy."

  "I'd like to know what you fellows were doing all the time in St.John's?" asked Daddy, angrily.

  "Engines always need looking after, Mr. Jelliffe," replied the skipper inan injured tone that was not particularly convincing. "Of course I canmake him work all night, and to-morrow, with his helper, so that maybe wecan start day after to-morrow early. Everything is all apart now. If yousay so we can start under sail, but I know you don't like bucking againstcontrary winds without a bit of steam to help, and this is a forsakencoast to be knocking about, Mr. Jelliffe, and I'll be glad to get awayfrom it."

  "Well, I suppose that a day or so won't make much difference," saidDaddy. "How's your coal?"

  "Plenty coal, sir."

  "All right, get those fellows at work in the engine room, Stefansson.They haven't had much to do of late."

  Our skipper departed and I was so happy that I wanted to dance. In thekitchen Susie was washing dishes and assisting her work by intoning themost doleful hymn. I turned up the lamp a little, and things seemed everso much more cheerful.

 
; So I suppose that I have been ever so foolish. Just now I can hear Daddyand Mr. Barnett saying good night, and I know that they have beenfighting tooth and nail over that chess board. And I hear Mr. Barnettthanking Daddy, in a voice that is all choked up with emotion. I am soglad to think the dear little man is happy. Isn't it too bad, AuntJennie, that we can't all be happy all the time?

  Your lovingHELEN.