CHAPTER VII.
A VERY ACCIDENTAL CALL.
At the very moment when the angry crab closed his nippers on the barebig toe of Dick Lee, and his shrill note of discomfort rang across theinlet, the shriller whistle of the engine announced the arrival of themorning train from the city, at the little station in the village.
A moment or so later, a very pretty young lady was standing beside atrunk on the platform, trying to get some information from the flagman.
"Can you tell me where Mr. Foster lives?"
"That's the gimlet-eyed lawyer from New Yark?"
"Yes, he's from New York," said the young lady, smiling in his face."Where does he live?"
"He's got the sassiest boy, thin. Is it him as took the Kinzer house?"
"I think likely it is. Can you tell me how to get there?"
"Thim Kinzers is foine people. The widdy married one of the gurrels toMisther Morris."
"But how can I get to the house?"
"Is it there ye're afther goin'?--Hey, Michael, me boy, bring up yerowld rattlethrap, and take the leddy's thrunk. She'll be goin' to theKinzer place. Sharp, now."
"I should say it was," muttered the young lady, as the remains of whathad been a carryall were pulled up beside the platform by the skinnyskeleton of what might once have been a horse. "It's a rattletrap."
There was no choice, however; for that was the only public conveyance atthe station, and the trunk was already whisked in behind the dashboard,and the driver was waiting for her.
He could afford to wait, as it would be some hours before another trainwould be in.
There was no door to open in that "carriage." It was all door except thetop and bottom, and the pretty passenger was neither helped nor hinderedin finding her place on the back seat.
If the flagman was more disposed to ask questions than to answer them,Michael said few words of any kind except to his horse. To him, indeed,he kept up a constant stream of encouraging remarks, the greatest partof which would have been difficult for an ordinary hearer to understand.
Very likely the horse knew what they meant; for he came very nearbreaking from a limp into a trot several times, under the stimulus ofall that clucking and "G'lang, now!"
The distance was by no means great, and Michael seemed to know the wayperfectly. At least he answered, "Yes'm, indade," to several inquiriesfrom his passenger, and she was compelled to be satisfied with that.
"What a big house it is! And painters at work on it too," she exclaimed,just as Michael added a vigorous jerk of the reins to the "Whoa!" withwhich he stopped his nag in front of an open gate.
"Are you sure this is the place?"
"Yes'm; fifty cints, mum."
By the time the trunk was out of the carriage and swung inside of thegate, the young lady had followed; but for some reason Michael at oncesprang back to his place, and whipped up his limping steed. It may havebeen from the fear of being asked to take that trunk into the house, forit was not a small one. The young lady stood for a moment irresolute,and then left it where it was, and walked on up to the house.
No bell; no knocker. The workmen had not reached that part of theirimprovements yet. But the door was open; and a very neatly furnishedparlor at the left of the hall seemed to say, "Come right in, please;"and in she went.
Such an arrival could not possibly have escaped the notice of theinmates of the house; and, as the young lady from the railway came in atthe front, another and a very different-looking lady marched through tothe parlor from the rear.
Each one would have been a puzzle to the other, if the elder of the twohad not been Mrs. Kinzer, and the widow had never been very much puzzledin all her life. At all events, she put out her hand, with a cordialsmile, saying,--
"Miss Foster, is it not? I am Mrs. Kinzer. How could he have made such amistake?"
"Yes, Miss Annie Foster. But do please explain Where am I? and how doyou know me?"
The widow laughed cheerily.
"How do I know you, my dear? Why, you resemble your mother almost asmuch as your brother Ford resembles his father. You are only one doorfrom home here, and I'll have your trunk taken right over to the house.Please sit down a moment. Ah! my daughter Samantha, Miss Foster. Excuseme a moment, while I call one of the men."
By the time their mother was fairly out of the room, however, Keziah andPamela were also in it; and Annie thought she had rarely seen threegirls whose appearance testified so strongly to the healthiness of theplace they lived in.
The flagman's questions and Annie's answers were related quickly enough,and the cause of Michael's blunder was plain at once.
The parlor rang again with peals of laughter; for Dab Kinzer's sisterswere ready at any time to look at the funny side of things, and theiraccidental guest saw no reason for not joining them.
"Your brother Ford is on the bay, crabbing with our Dabney," remarkedSamantha, as the widow returned. But Annie's eyes had been furtivelywatching her baggage through the window, and saw it swinging upon abroad, red-shirted pair of shoulders, just then; and, before she couldbring her mind to bear upon the crab question, Keziah Kinzerexclaimed,--
"If there isn't Mrs. Foster, coming through the garden gate!"
"My mother!" and Annie was up and out of the parlor in a twinkling,followed by all the ladies of the Kinzer family. It was really quite aprocession.
Now, if Mrs. Foster was in any degree surprised by her daughter's suddenappearance, or by her getting to the Kinzer house first instead of toher own, it was a curious fact that she did not say so by a word or alook.
Not a breath of it. But, for all the thorough-bred self-control of thecity lady, Mrs. Kinzer knew perfectly well there was something odd andunexpected about it all. If Samantha had noticed this fact, there mighthave been some questions asked possibly; but one of the widow's mostrigid rules in life was to "mind her own business."
The girls, indeed, were quite jubilant over an occurrence which madethem at once so well acquainted with their very attractive new neighbor;and they might have followed her even beyond the gate in the northfence, if it had not been for their mother. All they were allowed to dowas to go back to their own parlor, and hold "a council of war," in thecourse of which Annie Foster was discussed, from her bonnet to hershoes.
Mrs. Foster had been abundantly affectionate in greeting her daughter;but, when once they were alone in the wee sitting-room of the old Kinzerhomestead, she put her arms around her, saying,--
"Now, my darling, tell me what it all means."
"Why, mother, it was partly my mistake, and partly the flagman's and thedriver's; and I'm sure Mrs. Kinzer was kind. She knew me before I said aword, by my resemblance to you."
"Oh, I don't mean that! How is it you are here so soon? I thought youmeant to make a long visit at your uncle Hart's."
"So I would, mother, if it had not been for those boys."
"Your cousins, Annie?"
"Cousins, mother! You never saw such young bears in all your life. Theytormented me from morning till night."
"But, Annie, I hope you have not offended"--
"Offended, mother? Aunt Maria thinks they're perfect, and so does uncleJoe. They'd let them pull the house down over their heads, you'd think."
"But, Annie, what did they do? and what did you say?"
"Do, mother? I couldn't tell you in all day; but when they poured inkover my cuffs and collars, I said I would come home. I had just one pairleft white to wear home, and I travelled all night."
Poor Mrs. Foster! A cold shudder went over her at the idea of that inkamong the spotless contents of her own collar-box.
"What boys they must be! but, Annie, what did your aunt say?"
"Uncle Joe laughed till he cried; and Aunt Maria said, 'Boys will beboys;' and I half believe they were sorry; but that was only a sort of awinding-up, I wouldn't stay there another day."
Annie had other things to tell; and, long before she had finished herstory, there was no further fault to be found with her for losing hert
emper. Still her mother said mildly,--
"I must write to Maria at once, for it won't do to let those boys maketrouble between us."
Annie looked at her with an expression of face which very plainlysaid,--
"Nobody in the wide world could have the heart to quarrel with you."
Dab Kinzer: A Story of a Growing Boy Page 7