Part 42 (1/2)

”No. Do you suppose I am going to leave you--in pain--and.... Drive on, please. George can follow us.”

”But I'm all right, good land knows! The Foam Flake won't try to fly again. And really, I----”

”Drive on, please.”

So he drove on; there seemed to be nothing else to do. It did not help his feelings to hear, as George Kent was left standing in the road, a disgusted and profane e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n from that young gentleman.

The remainder of the journey was quickly made. There was little conversation. The rain, the wind, and the sounds of the horses' hoofs and the rattle of the buggies--for Kent's was close behind all the way--furnished most of the noise.

Judah was waiting when they came into the yard of the Minot place. He and Elizabeth helped Sears from the buggy. The captain, in spite of his protestations, could scarcely stand. Kent, because Elizabeth asked him to, a.s.sisted in getting him into the kitchen and the biggest rocking chair.

”Now go ... go,” urged Sears. ”I'm just a little lame, that's all, and I'll be all right by to-morrow. Go, Elizabeth please. Your supper is waitin' as it is. Now go.”

She went, but rather reluctantly. ”I shall run over after supper to see how you are,” she declared. ”Thank you very much for taking me to Orham, Cap'n.”

”Thank you for--for a whole lot of things. And don't you dream of comin'

over again to-night. There's no sense in it, is there, George?”

If Kent heard he did not answer. His ”good night” was brief. Sears did not like it, nor the expression on his face. This was a new side of the young fellow's character, a side the captain had not seen before. And yet--well, he was young, very young. Sears was troubled about the affair. Had he been to blame? He had not meant to be. Ah-hum! the world was full of misunderstandings and foolishness. And was there, in all that world, any being more foolish than himself?

Just here, Judah, having returned from stabling the Foam Flake, rushed into the kitchen to demand answers to a thousand questions. For the next hour there was no opportunity for moralizing or melancholy.

CHAPTER XII

Elizabeth did not visit the Minot place that evening, as she had said she meant to do. It may be that Sears was a trifle disappointed, but even he would have been obliged to confess that that particular evening was not the time for him to receive callers. He ate his supper--a very small portion of the meal which Judah had provided for him--and, soon afterward, retired to the spare stateroom and bed. Undressing was a martyrdom, and he had hard work to keep back the groans which the pain in his legs tempted him to utter. There was no doubt that he had twisted those shaky limbs of his more than he realized. He had wrenched them severely, how severely he scarcely dared think. But they forced him to think all that night, and the next morning Judah insisted on going for the doctor.

Doctor Sheldon examined the ”spliced timbers,” fumed and scolded a good deal, but at last grudgingly admitted that no irreparable harm had been done.

”You're luckier than you deserve, Cap'n,” he declared. ”It's a wonder you aren't ruined altogether. Now you stay right in that bed until I tell you to get up. And that won't be to-day, or to-morrow either.

Perhaps the day after that--well, we'll see. But those legs of yours need absolute rest. Judah, you see that they get it, will you? If he tries to get up you knock him back again. Those are orders. Understand?”

”Aye, aye, sir,” replied Judah, promptly. ”I'll have a handspike handy.

He won't turn out, I'll see to it.”

Sears' protestations that he couldn't waste time in bed, that he had too many important things to attend to, went for nothing. According to Sheldon and Judah his legs were the only things of real importance just then and they needed absolute rest. Down inside him the captain realized that this was true, and so grumblingly resigned himself to the two days of imprisonment. With the most recent issues of the _Cape Cod Item_ and one or two books from the shelves in the sitting room closet, books of the vintage of the '40's and '50's, but fortunately of a strong sea flavor, he endeavored to console himself, while Judah attended to the household duties or went down town on errands.

Elizabeth called that first forenoon, but did not see him. The doctor had warned Judah to head off visitors. ”They may not do any harm, but they certainly won't do any good, and I want him to have absolute rest,”

said Sheldon. So Judah guarded the outer portal, and, when he went out, hung up a warning placard. ”OUT. NO ADMITENTS. DOORS LOKED. KEY UNDER MAT.” The information concerning the key was for the doctor's benefit.

But Elizabeth sent her good wishes and sympathy. So did her mother. So, too, did Esther Tidditt, and Miss Snowden, and Miss Peasley, and in fact all the Fair Harbor inmates. For the first day Mr. Cahoon was kept busy transmitting messages to the spare stateroom.

But about this time Bayport began to rock with a new series of sensations and, except by the very few, Captain Kendrick was forgotten.

The news of Judge Knowles' various legacies became known and spread through the village like fire in a patch of dead weeds. The Fair Harbor sat up nearly all of one night discussing and commenting upon the good fortune which had befallen the Berrys. And by no means all of the time was used in congratulations.

”Humph!” sniffed Susanna Brackett, her lips squeezed so tightly together that her mustache stood on end. ”Humph!”

Miss Snowden nodded. ”Of course,” she said, ”I'm not a person to hint, or anything of that sort. But--_but_ if somebody'll tell me _why_ the judge left all that money to her I should like to hear 'em.”

Mrs. Brackett opened her lips sufficiently to observe that so should she. ”Of course,” she added, ”the five thousand that Lobelia left Cordelia might have been expected, they was real friendly always. But why did Judge Knowles leave it all to Elizabeth and not one cent to her mother? _That_ I _can't_ understand.”