Part 20 (1/2)
”Tell me a story, mamma--won't you? Like the ones you used to tell me when I was quite a little girl.”
”Dear child,” said her mother, who was not thinking of story-telling, ”I am afraid I have forgotten all the ones I ever knew. Besides, darling, it is time for you to go to bed.”
”I don't want to go to bed, mamma. It is such a horrid night. The wind keeps me awake.”
”You will not sleep at all if I tell you a story,” objected Mrs. G.o.ddard.
”Mr. Juxon tells me such nice stories,” said Nellie, reproachfully.
”What are they about, dear?”
”Oh, his stories are beautiful. They are always about s.h.i.+ps and the blue sea and wonderful desert islands where he has been. What a wonderful man he is, mamma, is not he?”
”Yes, dear, he talks very interestingly.” Mrs. G.o.ddard stroked Nellie's brown curls and looked into the fire.
”He told me that once, ever so many years ago--he must be very old, mamma--” Nellie paused and looked up inquiringly.
”Well, darling--not so very, very old. I think he is over forty.”
”Over forty--four times eleven--he is not four times as old as I am.
Almost, though. All his stories are ever so many years ago. He said he was sailing away ever so far, in a perfectly new s.h.i.+p, and the name of the s.h.i.+p was--let me see, what was the name? I think it was--”
Mrs. G.o.ddard started suddenly and laid her hand on the child's shoulder.
”Did you hear anything, Nellie?” she asked quickly. Nellie looked up in some surprise.
”No, mamma. When? Just now? It must have been the wind. It is such a horrid night. The name of the s.h.i.+p was the 'Zephyr'--I remember, now.”
She looked up again to see if her mother was listening to the story. Mrs.
G.o.ddard looked pale and glanced uneasily towards the closed window. She had probably been mistaken.
”And where did the s.h.i.+p sail to, Nellie dear?” she asked, smoothing the child's curls again and forcing herself to smile.
”Oh--the s.h.i.+p was a perfectly new s.h.i.+p and it was the most beautiful weather in the world. They were sailing away ever so far, towards the straits of Magellan. I was so glad because I knew where the straits of Magellan were--and Mr. Juxon was immensely astonished. But I had been learning about the Terra del Fuego, and the people who were frozen there, in my geography that very morning--was not it lucky? So I knew all about it--mamma, how nervous you are! It is nothing but the wind. I wish you would listen to my story--”
”I am listening, darling,” said Mrs. G.o.ddard, making a strong effort to overcome her agitation and drawing the child closer to her. ”Go on, sweetheart--you were in the straits of Magellan, you said, sailing away--”
”Mr. Juxon was, mamma,” said Nellie correcting her mother with the asperity of a child who does not receive all the attention it expects.
”Of course, dear, Mr. Juxon, and the s.h.i.+p was the 'Zephyr.'”
”Yes--the 'Zephyr,'” repeated Nellie, who was easily pacified. ”It was at Christmas time he said--but that is summer in the southern hemisphere,”
she added, proud of her knowledge. ”So it was very fine weather. And Mr.
Juxon was walking up and down the deck in the afternoon, smoking a cigar--”
”He never smokes, dear,” interrupted Mrs. G.o.ddard, glad to show Nellie that she was listening.
”Well, but he did then, because he said so,” returned Nellie unmoved.
”And as he walked and looked out--sailors always look out, you know--he saw the most wonderful thing, close to the s.h.i.+p--the most wonderful thing he ever saw,” added Nellie with some redundance of expression.