Part 12 (1/2)

Stella did not deny the charge. ”What irrelevant remarks you do contrive to make, Tom!” she said. ”Come, go ahead, if you mean to show us where those berries are.”

They found them, and were all busily picking in a few minutes more.

However Stella's interest in huckleberries might flag later on there was no criticism to be made on her attention at first, and her fingers flew over the bushes at a rate which augured well for the filling of her pail. As for the Northmore girls, they were in ecstasies. Kate settled down to the business at once, though for a while she ate most of the berries she picked, while Esther paused between the handfuls to take long whiffs of the sweet fern which grew everywhere among the bushes, and to fill her eyes with the landscape which looked fairer than ever from the side of this green old hill.

Everything was interesting-the sights, the smells, the blossoms which were all around them; even the sprig of lobelia which Tom presented for his cousins' tasting, having first cunningly prepared the way with spearmint and pennyroyal-how Kate wished she could return the favor with a green persimmon!-and the slender yellow worm, industriously measuring the bushes, had its own claim to attention. Its name and manner of travel reminded Kate of one of Aunt Milly's songs with an admonis.h.i.+ng refrain of, ”Keep an inching along, Keep an inching along,” and she trolled it out with a rollicking plantation accent that charmed her audience.

Perhaps it was the singing which drew a traveller who was climbing up the hill in their direction. In a pause of the verses Tom suddenly exclaimed: ”Upon my word, there's Solomon Ridgeway. He's got his pack on his back, too. Let's have some fun.”

It was indeed the queer protege of Aunt Katharine who appeared at that moment, bowing and smiling as he emerged from behind a rock. Evidently Tom did not share his grandfather's extreme dislike for the man's society, for he advanced to meet him in the most friendly manner.

”Well, Solomon,” he exclaimed, ”so you thought you'd come huckleberrying, too! Do you expect to fill that box of yours this afternoon?”

The face of the little old man, which was fairly twinkling with pleasure, expressed an eager dissent. ”Oh, no, I-I didn't come huckleberryin',” he said, ”and I couldn't think of puttin' 'em in this box. Why this box-” he lowered his voice with a delighted chuckle-”has got some of my jewels in it You see, I'm goin' over to see little Mary Berger. They say she's got the mumps, and I kind o' thought 'twould brighten her up to see 'em. It don't hurt the children-bless their hearts-to see fine things; it does 'em good. And I always tell 'em,” he added earnestly, ”that there _air_ things better 'n pearls and rubies.

Tain't everybody that the Lord gives riches to, and if they're good they'll be happy without 'em.”

”Why, that's quite a moral, Solomon,” said Tom. ”You ought to have been a preacher.” He sent a roguish glance at the girls, then, throwing an accent of solicitude into his voice, added: ”But aren't you afraid you might get robbed going through those woods? There's quite a strip of them before you get to Berger's.”

The owner of the jewels sent an apprehensive glance into the woods which skirted the brow of the hill and answered bravely: ”Yes, I be, Thomas. I be a little afeared of it. I-I won't go so far as to say I ain't. But I don't b'lieve a body or' to stan' back on that account when there's somethin' they feel as if they or' to be doin', and I've always been took care of before-I've always been took care of.”

The manliness of this ought to have shamed Tom out of his waggishness, but he was not done with it yet. ”Solomon,” he said, with the utmost gravity,-”I should think you'd want to get your property into something besides jewellery. Then you wouldn't run such risks. Besides, if you had it in the bank, you know, it would be growing bigger all the time.”

The little man's face wore a look of distress, and he put his hand on his box protectingly. ”They tell me that sometimes,” he said in a plaintive tone, ”but I-I couldn't think of it. It wouldn't be half as much comfort to me as 'tis this way. Besides, I'm rich enough now, and when a body's got enough, it's enough, ain't it? And why can't you settle down and take the good of it?”

”I think you're quite right, Mr. Ridgeway,” said Stella. ”It's perfectly vulgar for people to go straining and scrambling after more money when they have as much as they can enjoy already. The world would be a good deal pleasanter place than it is if more people felt as you do about that.”

She punctuated this with reproving glances at Tom, to which, however, he paid not the smallest attention.

”But you know, Solomon,” he said artfully, ”if you only had your money where you could draw on it, you wouldn't have to work as you do now.

They keep you trotting pretty lively at the farm, don't they? And I'll warrant Aunt Katharine finds you ch.o.r.es enough when you're at her house.”

The little man's face was clear again. Here, at least, was a point on which he had no misgiving. ”Law, Thomas,” he said, ”I-I like to keep busy. Why, there ain't a bit o' sense in a body bein' all puffed up and thinkin' he's too good to work like other folks jest 'cause he's rich.

'Tain't your own doings, being rich, leastways not all of it. It's partly the way things happen, and then it's the disposition you've got.

That's the way I look at it. And it always 'peared to me,” he added, with the most touching simplicity, ”that, when a body's rich as I be, he or' to do a leetle more 'n common folks to sort o' try 'n' pay up for it.”

”Mr. Ridgeway,” exclaimed Stella-it was impossible after this to let that graceless brother say another word-”would you mind showing us some of your pretty things right now? My cousins never saw them, and I'm sure they'd enjoy it ever so much.”

The countenance of Solomon Ridgeway was aflame with pleasure. He lowered his box from his shoulders and unstrapped it with a childish eagerness.

”Why, I-I'd be proud to, Miss Stella,” he said, with a hurrying rapture.

Then, looking about for a suitable place of exhibition, he added, ”Jest come under that big chestnut tree over there, and I'll spread 'em all out so you can see 'em.”

It was not huckleberrying, but something much more unique, which engaged them for the next half hour. The collection which Solomon Ridgeway drew from his box and spread before their dazzled eyes was a marvel of tinsel and glitter. There were brooches and rings and chains enough to have made the fortune of half a dozen pedlers; trumpery stuff, most of it, but what of that?

The owner was not one to let a carping world settle for him the value of his treasure. There was paste that gleamed like diamonds in settings burnished like the finest gold, and there were the colors of topaz and emerald and sapphire and ruby. Who cared whether they flashed in bits of gla.s.s or in stones drawn from the mines? They were things of beauty for a' that, and they filled their owner's soul with joy. He had gathered them slowly through the savings of earlier years, and the gifts of friends; he loved them every one, and believed them to be of fabulous value.

”They ain't all I've got, you know. There's a lot more,” he said repeatedly; and then he rubbed his hands together and smiled upon his audience with the air of a Crsus demanding, ”Do you know any one richer than I?”