CHAPTER V.
THE ARRIVAL OF THE NABOBS.
"Well," said Uncle John, looking out of the car window, "we're nearlythere."
He didn't look the millionaire, or nabob, or anything else but a modestlittle man full of joy at getting into the country. His clothing was notdistinctive of wealth, his hands were hard and roughened by years oftoil, and his necktie had a plebeian trick of sliding under his leftear. Uncle John was just a plain, simple, good-hearted fellow before heacquired riches, and the possession of millions had in no way alteredhis nature.
The three nieces and himself were the only passengers in the coach,aside from rosy-cheeked Mary, Patricia's cook. Finding that the road didnot run a sleeper to Chazy Junction, Mr. Merrick had ordered oneattached to the train for his especial use; but he did not allow evenPatsy to suspect this extravagance.
"It seems to me," observed Beth, as she peered out while the trainpuffed up the steep grade, "as if we'd arrived at the heart of awilderness, where farms are likely to be as scarce as Egyptian temples."
"The truth is," replied her uncle, with a cheerful smile, "that none ofus has an idea where we're going, or what that farm of mine looks like.We're explorers, like Stanley in mid-Africa. That's the beauty of thisexcursion."
"I'm glad I didn't bring any party dresses," said dainty Louise, shakingher blonde head with a doubting expression toward the rockcovered hills.
"Why, you might need them for hay-rides," remarked Patsy, with a laugh;"that is, if any hay grows in this land of quarries."
The train stopped with a jerk, started with another jerk, and stoppedagain with a third that made them catch their breaths and hold fast tothe seats.
"Chazy Junction, seh," said the colored porter, entering in haste toseize their bags.
They alighted on a small wooden platform and their hand baggage wasdeposited beside them. Their trunks were being tumbled off a carfar ahead.
Then the whistle screamed, the train gave a jerk and proceeded on itsway, and Uncle John, his nieces and their maid, found themselvesconfronting a solitary man in shirtsleeves, who yawned languidly, thrusthis hands in his pockets and stared at the strangers unmoved.
It was six o'clock. The July sun was set in a clear sky, but the air wascool and pleasant. Uncle John glanced around with the eye of a practicedtraveler. Back of the station was a huddle of frame buildings set in ahollow. The station-tender was the only person in sight.
"Isn't there a carriage to meet us?" asked Louise, in a slightly frigidtone.
"Seems not," replied her uncle. Then he addressed the native. "Can youtell us, sir, where Millville is?" he asked.
"Sev'n mile up the road."
"Thank you kindly. Is there any carriage to be had?"
The man smiled sardonically.
"Kerridges," he said, "don't grow in these parts. I take it you be theparty fer the Wegg farm."
"You're right," said Mr. Merrick. "I'm glad we are getting acquainted.Folks all well?"
"Pretty fair."
"Now, sir, we want some breakfast, to begin with, and then some way toget to my farm."
"Peggy orter 'a' looked after you," remarked the man, eyeing the daintygowns of the young ladies reflectively.
"Who's Peggy?"
"That's McNutt, the man you hired to do things."
"Ah, yes; he surely ought to have sent some sort of a team to meet us,"agreed Uncle John. "What's that group of houses yonder?"
"Thet's the Junction."
"Any hotel?"
"Sure."
"And a livery stable?"
"'Course there is."
"Then we'll get along," said Uncle John, assuming a sudden brisk manner."Just keep your eye on our baggage till we get back, my good fellow.There are no people to interfere with it, but some bears or tigers mightcome out of the hills and eat it up. Now, girls, away we go!"
Uncle John's nieces were not so greatly dismayed at this experience asmight have been expected. They had recently accompanied their erraticrelative on a European trip and had learned to be patient underdifficulties.
A quarter of a mile down the dusty road they came to the hotel, adismal, unclean looking place that smelled of stale beer. Uncle Johnrouted out the proprietor.
"Folks up?" he inquired.
"Long ago," said the man.
"Get us some boiled eggs, bread and butter and plenty of freshmilk--right away," ordered Mr. Merrick. "The quicker it comes the moreI'll pay you. Bring a table out here on the porch and we'll eat in theopen air. Where's the livery stable--eh? Oh, I see. Now, step lively, myman, and your fortune's made. I'll add a quarter of a dollar for everyfive minutes you save us in time."
The fellow stared, then woke up with a start and disappeared within.
"By gum, I'll bet a hen it's thet air nabob!" he muttered.
Leaving his girls and Mary to sit on the wooden benches of the porchUncle John crossed the road to the livery stable, where he discovered aman and a boy engaged in cleaning the half dozen sorry looking nags theestablishment contained. A three-seated democrat wagon was engaged tocarry the party to the Wegg farm at Millville, and a rickety lumberwagon would take the baggage. The liveryman recognized his customer assoon as the Wegg farm was mentioned, and determined to "do the city guyup brown."
"Road's bad an' up hill, an' my time's vallyble," he said in a surlyvoice. "I'll hev to charge ye three dollars."
"For what?" asked Uncle John, quietly.
"Fer the two teams to Millville."
"Get them harnessed right away, load up the baggage, and have thedemocrat at the hotel in twenty minutes. Here's five dollars, and ifyou'll look pleasant you may keep the change."
"Blame my thick skull!" muttered the livery-man, as he watched thelittle man depart. "What a cussed fool I were not to say four dollarsinstead o' three!"
But he called to his boy to hurry up, and in the stipulated time theteams were ready.
Uncle John and his nieces were just finishing their eggs, which werefresh and delicious. The milk was also a revelation. Through the windowsof the hotel several frowsy looking women and an open mouthed boy werestaring hard at the unconscious city folk.
Even Louise was in a mood for laughter as they mounted to the high seatsof the democrat. The glorious air, the clear sunshine and a satisfactoryif simple breakfast had put them all in a good humor with the world.
They stopped at the station for their hand baggage, and saw that thetrunks were properly loaded on the lumber wagon. Then, slowly, theystarted to mount the long hill that began its incline just acrossthe tracks.
"Sure this is the way?" inquired Uncle John, perched beside the driver.
"I were horned here," answered the man, conclusively.
"That seems to settle it. Pretty big hill, that one ahead of us."
"It's the Little Bill. When we cross it, we're at Millville."
Seven miles of desolate country could not dampen the spirits of thegirls. Secretly each one was confident that Uncle John's unknown farmwould prove to be impossible, and that in a day or so at the latest theywould retrace their steps. But in the meantime the adventure was noveland interesting, and they were prepared to accept the inevitable withall graciousness.
When, after the long climb up the hill, they saw the quaint mill and thetown lying just across rushing Little Bill Creek; when from theirelevation they beheld the placid lake half hidden by its stately pinesand gazed up the rugged and picturesque foot-hills to the greatmountains beyond, then indeed they drew in deep breaths and began, asPatsy exclaimed, to be "glad they came."
"That Millville?" asked Uncle John, eagerly.
"Yes, sir."
"And which of those houses belongs to the Wegg farm?"
"Ye can't see the Wegg house from here; the pines hide it," said theman, urging his horses into a trot as they approached the bridge.
"Pretty good farm?" inquired Uncle John, hopefully.
"Worst in the county," was the disconcerting reply. "Half rocks an' halftrees. Ol' Cap'n Weg
g wasn't no farmer. He were a sea-cap'n; so it's nowonder he got took in when he bought the place."
Uncle John sighed.
"I've just bought it myself," he observed.
"There's a ol' addige," said the man, grinning, "'bout a fool an' hismoney. The house is a hunker; but w'at's the use of a house withouta farm?"
"What is a 'hunker,' please?" inquired Louise, curiously.
The liveryman ventured no reply, perhaps because he was guiding hishorses over the rickety bridge.
"Want to stop at the village?" he asked.
"No; drive on to the farm."
The scene was so rude and at the same time so picturesque that itimpressed them all very agreeably. Perhaps they were the more delightedbecause they had expected nothing admirable in this all but forsakenspot. They did not notice the people who stared after them as theyrattled through the village, or they would have seen Uncle John's"agent" in front of his office, his round eyes fairly bulging fromhis head.
It had never occurred to McNutt to be at the Junction to welcome hispatron. He had followed his instructions and set Mr. Merrick's house inorder, and there he considered that his duty ended. He would, of course,call on the nabob, presently, and render an account of the money hehad received.
Sam Cotting, the store-keeper, gazed after the livery team with a sourcountenance, he resented the fact that five big-boxes of groceries hadbeen forwarded from the city to the Wegg farm. "What'n thunder's the usehavin' city folks here, ef they don't buy nothin'?" he asked the boys;and they agreed it was no use at all.
Proceeding at a smart trot the horses came to the Pearson farm, wherethey turned into the Jane at the left and straightway subsided to a slowwalk, the wheels bumping and jolting over the stony way.
"What's this?" exclaimed Uncle John, who had narrowly escaped biting histongue through and through. "Why did you turn down here?"
"It's the road," returned the driver, with a chuckle; "it's thecobble-stone lane to yer farm, an' the farm's 'bout the same sort o'land as the lane."
For a few moments the passengers maintained a dismal silence.
"The country's lovely," said Patsy, glancing at the panorama as theymounted a slight elevation.
"Are you sure, Uncle, that there is a house, or any place of refuge, onyour farm?" asked Louise, in a mischievous tone.
"Why, there's a rumor of a house, and the rumor says it's a hunker,"replied Mr. Merrick, in a voice that betrayed a slight uneasiness.
"Doubtless the house matches the farm," said Beth, calmly. "I imagine ithas two rooms and a leaky roof. But never mind, girls. This has been apleasant trip, and we can seek shelter elsewhere if the worst comes tothe worst."
"I guess the worst has come a'ready," observed the driver; "for thehouse is by odds the best part o' the Wegg farm. It's big enough fer ahotel, an' cost a lot o' money in its day. Seems like the lunatics allcrowd to thet place--fust ol' Cap'n Wegg wasted of his substance on it,an' now----"
He paused, perhaps fearing he might become personal in his remarks, andUncle John coughed while the girls shrieked with laughter.
Expecting nothing, they were amazed when they passed the orchard and thegroup of pines that had concealed the house and suddenly drew up besidethe old-fashioned stile built into the rail fence. Every eye wasinstantly upon the quaint, roomy mansion, the grassy sward extendingbetween it and the road, and the cosy and home-like setting of theoutbuildings.
"Here's Wegg's," said the liveryman.
"Oh, Uncle," cried Beth; "how lovely!"
Louise's pretty face was wreathed with smiles. Patsy drew in a longbreath and scrambled out of the high seat.
On the corner of the front porch stood Nora, arrayed in her neat graygown and a cap. Her face was composed, but she felt herself tremblinga little.
Old Hucks came slowly down the steps to greet the company. Never in hismemory had his dress been so immaculate. The queer old fellow seemed toappreciate this as he raised his smiling face from the stooped shouldersand poised it on one side like a sparrow.
"Welcome home, sir," he said to Uncle John. "I'm Hucks, sir; ThomasHucks," and without more words he proceeded to remove the satchels fromthe wagon.
"Ah, yes," returned Mr. Merrick, cheered by the welcome and the smile ofthe old man. "I'd forgotten about you, but I'm glad you're here."
"And that is my wife Nora, on the porch. She's the housekeeper, sir."And then, lowering his voice so that only the girls and Uncle John couldhear, he added simply: "She's blind."
Patsy walked straight up to the eager, pathetic figure of the woman andtook her hand in a warm clasp.
"I'm Patricia, Nora," she said, "and I'm sure we shall be friends."
Beth followed her cousin's lead.
"And I am Beth, Nora. Will you remember me?"
"Surely, miss; by your voice," returned the old woman, beamingdelightedly at these evidences of kindliness.
"Here is another, Nora," said their cousin, in gentle tones. "I amLouise."
"Three young and pretty girls, Nora; and as good as they are pretty,"announced Uncle John, proudly. "Will you show us in, Thomas, or willyour wife?"
"Nora will take the young ladies to their rooms, sir."
"Not now, Uncle!" they all protested, in nearly identical words; andLouise added: "Let us drink in the delights of this pretty picturebefore we shut ourselves up in the stuffy rooms. I hope they'vebeen aired."
Patsy ran to a chicken-coop on the side lawn, where a fussy hen wascalling to her children that strangers had arrived. Beth exclaimed atthe honeysuckle vines and Louise sank into a rustic chair with a sighof content.
"I'm so glad you brought us here. Uncle," she said. "What a surprise itis to find the place so pretty!"
They could hear the rush of the Little Bill in the wood behind them anda soft breeze stirred the pines and wafted their fragrance to thenostrils of the new arrivals. Uncle John squatted on the shady steps andfairly beamed upon the rustic scene spread out before him. Patsy had nowthrown aside her hat and jacket and lay outstretched upon the coolgrass, while the chickens eyed her with evident suspicion. Beth waspicking a bouquet of honeysuckles, just because they were so sweetand homely.
"I'm almost sure I sent some hammocks and a croquet set," remarked UncleJohn.
"They're here, sir," said Old Hucks, who had watched each one with hispersistent smile and now stood awaiting his new master's commands. "Butwe didn't know jest where ye wanted 'em put."
Mary came out. She had taken off her things and donned her white apron.
"The house is quite wonderful, Mr. Merrick," she said. "There iseverything we can possibly need, and all as neat as wax."
The report stirred the girls to explore. They all trooped into the bigliving room and were at once captivated by its charm. Nora led themupstairs to their chambers, finding the way as unerringly as if shepossessed perfect vision, and here a new chorus of delight was evoked.
"The blue room is mine!" cried Louise.
"Mine is the pink room," said Beth.
"And I choose the white room," declared Patsy. "The Major's is justnext, and it will please him because it is all green and gold. But wherewill Uncle John room?"
"The master will use the right wing," said old Nora, who had listenedwith real pleasure to the exclamations of delight. "It were Cap'n Wegg'sroom, ye know, an' we've fitted it all new."
Indeed, Uncle John was at that moment inspecting his apartment, and hesighed contentedly as he congratulated himself upon his foresight insending down the furnishings on the chance of their being needed. Theyhad effected a complete transformation of the old house.
But who had arranged everything? Surely the perfect taste and daintytouch evidenced everywhere was not to be attributed to blind Nora. Thelittle man was thoughtful as he turned to Old Hucks.
"Who did it, Thomas?" he asked.
"Miss Ethel, sir; the school-ma'am."
"Oh. A city girl?"
"No, sir. Crazy Will Thompson's granddaughter. She lives 'bout nine mileawa
y."
"Is she here now?"
"Went home this mornin', sir. It were a great pleasure to her, she said,an' she hoped as how you'd like everything, an' be happy here."
Undo John nodded.
"We must call on that girl," he remarked. "We owe her a good deal, Iimagine, and she's entitled to our grateful thanks."
Aunt Jane's Nieces at Millville Page 5