Part 22 (1/2)
”Well, I do,” Helen answered, placidly. ”I think he'd look wonderful in doublet and hose with a long cloak thrown around him. I think he's much better looking than Ralph.”
”You'd better not let Jean hear you say so,” Kit told her sagely. ”I wouldn't be very much surprised if something mighty interesting happened here this summer. I heard mother and Cousin Roxy talking about Ralph and Jean the other day.”
”Oh, Kit, don't be mean. Tell me what they said, please. I won't tell.”
”Impossible, child,” returned Kit, loftily. ”In fact, it was only what I might call a family rumor. But, I can tell you this much, I know perfectly well that Ralph MacRae has asked Dad for his eldest daughter's hand, and I don't know a blessed thing more.”
Helen sighed happily.
”I hope she has a September wedding, all gold and purple. It would just suit Jean. If one could only dress her in violet velvet with a girdle of amethysts set with pearls, and braid her hair with strands of jewels, too.
Jean always has that far-away look, in her eyes that princesses should have.”
”Well, I don't see where you get your princess pattern from,” remarked Kit. ”From all the recent pictures that I've seen, they're a very ordinary, old-fas.h.i.+oned lot of young persons, and decidedly at the dumpling stage. Besides, Jean herself might have something to say about it. It will be her wedding, you know, Helen.”
They had walked down to the Peckham mill after supper to get some supplies that Danny Peckham had promised to bring up from Nantic. Just as they came to the turn of the road there came a strange sound from the direction of the waterfall tent, deep, rich strains of music, almost as low pitched and thrilling as the sound of the water itself. Both girls stood stock still listening, until Helen whispered:
”It must be Mr. Ormond. He's playing on something, isn't he?”
”A 'cello, child,” Kit said, drawing in a deep breath as though she could fairly inhale the sweetness of the music on the night air. ”I haven't heard one since we left the Cove, and it's mother's favorite music. I wish I knew what he's playing. It sounds like Solveig's song from Peer Gynt, and I love that.”
”Then, that's what he does.” Helen's tone held a touch of admiring awe as she listened. ”And we thought he might be anything from a counterfeiter to an escaped convict hiding away up here. Oh, Kit, why do you suppose he keeps away from every one?”
”Probably got a hidden sorrow,” Kit answered. ”Still he's got a terrible appet.i.te. Mrs. Gorham says she doesn't see how he ever puts away the amount of food he does. He buys whole roast chickens and eats them all himself.”
Just then the music ceased suddenly. The flap of the tent lifted towards the roadway, and Mr. Ormond sent a hail across the twilight gloom.
”Is that you, Shad?”
”No, sir, it's just us girls,” answered Kit. ”We're going down to the mill.”
”Would you mind so very much, Miss Kit, asking if any one has telephoned a telegram up for me from the station? I am expecting one.”
”There, you see,” Helen said, dubiously, as they went on down the road.
”We just get rid of one mystery, and he hands us another one to solve. Who on earth would he be getting a telegram from?”
Kit laughed and slipped her arm around the slender shoulders that were growing so quickly up to her own.
”You're getting just as bad as every one else here in Gilead, Helenita. I thought only Mr. Ricketts took an interest in telegrams and post-cards.”
Nevertheless, when Sally told them that there had been a message 'phoned up from Nantic, even Kit showed quick interest.
It was signed ”Concetta,” and the message read:
”Arrive Nantic, ten-two. All love and tenderness. Contract signed.”
The girls returned after delivering the message, brimful of the news, but Mr. Robbins laughed at them.
”Why, bless your hearts,” he said, ”I could have told you long ago all about Bryan Ormond. He is one of the greatest 'cellists we have, and is married to Madame Concetta Doria, the grand-opera singer. He told me when he first took the tent for the summer, but as he was composing a new opera, he wanted absolute solitude up here, and asked me not to let any one know who they were.”