Part 10 (2/2)

”No, I didn't speak of price.”

”That's good,” said her aunt, slightly mollified. ”At least Martin Howe can't go crowin' over me--that is, unless Elias Barnes tells him. 'Twould be exactly like Elias to do it. He is just that mean.”

Although Ellen did not own it, Lucy knew that had the case been reversed, she would have been the first to crow unhesitatingly not only over Elias but over Martin. Pityingly she looked at the old woman.

”If you ever get the chance to speak to those Howe women again,” her aunt concluded, with affected nonchalance, ”you might tell 'em we never used their eggs. You could say I smashed 'em. I'd like Martin Howe to know it.”

CHAPTER VI

ELLEN ENCOUNTERS AN ENIGMA

Nevertheless, in spite of this bellicose admonition, Lucy had no opportunity during the next few weeks to deliver to the Howes her aunt's message, for Ellen, feeling that she was now blessed with an able a.s.sistant whose time must not be wasted, seized upon the mild May weather to deluge her home from top to bottom with soapsuds, sapolio, and fresh paint. From morning until night Lucy worked, scrubbing and scouring, brus.h.i.+ng and beating.

As she toiled up the stairs, carrying pails of steaming water, she caught through the windows glimpses of the valley, its verdant depths threaded by the river's silvery windings. The heavens had never been bluer. Everywhere gladness was in the air, and the thrill of it filled the girl with longing to be in the heart of its magic.

Ellen, however, was entirely oblivious to the miracle taking place in the universe about her. The glory of the awakening season, with its hosts of unfurling leaves and opening buds, was nothing to her. Had she not been dependent on the sun to make her garden grow, she would probably never have lifted her face to its golden rays. Only as nature furthered her projects did she acknowledge its presence.

The Howes seemed, to some extent at least, to share this disregard for the out-of-door world, for like Ellen they, too, surrendered themselves to a household upheaval quite as merciless as that of the Websters. No sooner would Martin disappear with horse and plow in the direction of the garden than the three sisters could be seen feverishly dragging mattresses on to the piazza roof for a sunning; shaking blankets; and beating rugs.

Now and then, when the sound of their measured blows reached Ellen's ears, she would leap to close the windows on the side of the house where there was danger of the Howe germs drifting in and polluting the Webster Lares and Penates.

It was one day after being thus impelled that Lucy was surprised to see her linger and stare intently.

”What are them women a-doin'?” she exclaimed at last. ”Do come here, Lucy.”

Discarding her mop, the girl crossed the room.

Through the gaps in the trees Mary, Eliza, and Jane Howe were plainly visible. They had shovels in their hands and were struggling with the turf at the foot of the big linden tree beside the house.

”They seem to be digging a hole,” Lucy said, after watching a moment.

”What for, do you suppose?”

Ellen fidgeted at the cas.e.m.e.nt for a short time and then disappeared, only to return with an old pair of field gla.s.ses. Adjusting them to her eyes, she stared at her neighbors with unconcealed curiosity.

”They _are_ diggin' a hole,” she declared presently. ”A good deep one; whatever can they be settin' out to do?”

For an interval she looked on with interest. Then suddenly she exclaimed in an excited voice:

”They're goin' to bury somethin'! My land! What do you s'pose it is?

Somethin' all done up in a bag!” She forced the binoculars into Lucy's hand. ”You look and see if you can't make out.”

Lucy scanned the scene with mild inquisitiveness.

”They have a canvas sack,” she said, ”and evidently they are trying to bury it.”

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