Part 18 (1/2)

From Boston to Nahant was the move next on their programme. The place was in its glory then, one of the prettiest of the seaside resorts; and for a week they did everything that anybody does at the sh.o.r.e.

Oh, the delight of it all! The pleasure of sitting on the level sands and watching the tides creep in and out; the transports and trepidations of the first dip into the great salt bath, and the unimagined joy of flying over the bright blue water under sails stretched by a glorious breeze! If anything _could_ have made Kate waver in her conviction that her native state was best favored of all in the length and breadth of the land, it would have been, at moments, the thought of its distance from the sea; and it was a long, devouring look, almost a tearful look, that she sent back at the blue expanse when the hour came to leave it.

The outing had been a complete success, from beginning to end. They were too tired to talk of it, as they rode on the train back to Esterly. To look musingly out of the windows was all that any of them cared to do.

But words came fast again as they rode back to the farm with their grandfather, who was waiting for them, of course, at the depot; and faster still when, with Tom and Aunt Elsie as listeners, they were all seated at the family supper.

”We've had more fun than we expected, positively more,” Kate exclaimed, ”and I shall never take a bit of stock again in that idea that thinking about things beforehand is better than actually having them. It must have been started by somebody who was too old to enjoy things.”

And her grandfather, after grunting a little over the last clause, and calling attention to the fact that _he_, at least, had never seen the time when he could say of any rational enjoyments, ”I have no pleasure in them,” was inclined to agree with the sentiment.

”Things don't turn out just as you expect them to, of course,” he remarked reflectively. ”I never knew it to happen that a body didn't miss _something_ of what he'd counted on, but then, on the other hand, something's sure to turn up that you warn't looking for, and you must set one over against the other. There are worse things than old age to keep folks from enjoying themselves,” he added acutely, ”and one of them is being so taken up with yourself that you feel abused if your own plans don't work out to a T. For my part, I shouldn't wonder if there was more pleasure to be got out of surprises, anyhow.”

The allusion to unexpected things of course suggested the meeting with Mr. Hadley, and then followed a full account of all his subsequent attentions. The old gentleman was delighted, and wished he could have been with them when they made that visit to the house on Beacon Street, a wish which it is doubtful whether the girls fully shared. They did not demur to it, however, nor yet to his evident impression that the young man's grat.i.tude for the light which had been thrown on the history of his forefathers had led him to extend these pleasant courtesies to his, Ruel Saxon's, descendants.

Tom was the first to suggest the doubt. ”Say, did the nabob talk all the time about his ancestors?” he demanded of Kate, as they sat on the wood-pile after supper, a perch to which she declared she was glad to come back after her fortnight's absence.

”Of course he didn't,” she replied. ”I don't think he spoke of them once, except when he showed us some of their portraits in the library.”

”I thought so,” said Tom, kicking a birch stick down from the pile, and sending it with accurate aim against the instrument which he called a ”saw-horse” and she called a ”saw-buck.” Then, looking her in the eyes, he asked coolly, ”Which of 'em is it, Stelle or Esther?”

”Both of 'em, I reckon,” said Kate, with equal coolness.

”It'll be one of them in particular if it keeps on like this,” said Tom, ”and I'll bet a s.h.i.+lling it'll be Esther.”

For once she did not take up the wager. It had been thrown down between them so often during the summer that nothing had prevented their both becoming bankrupt except the standing quarrel as to the amount involved, Tom maintaining steadily that it was sixteen and two-third cents, one sixth of a dollar, and she insisting with equal obstinacy that it was twelve and a half. This time she let it pa.s.s.

”Tom, you're a goose,” she said severely; and then she added: ”I suppose you don't think it's possible that he's at all impressed with _me_. I'd like to have you know that we had a great deal of conversation. Why”-she threw a shade of weariness into her voice-”I had to go over most of the ground that I've been going over with you ever since I came. We had _r_ up, of course. I really could not help speaking of it. One would think there was something actually profane about that poor little letter, the way the Bostonians avoid using it. And when I'd fairly made out my case, and he couldn't deny it, he had to pretend, just as you do, that we Westerners make too much of it, when we don't at all; and as if _that_ was any answer!”

”The way you do,” observed Tom, sympathetically, ”when I show you that you folks mix up the wills and shalls so there's no telling which from t'other, and you get back at me by declaring that we say 'hadn't ought'

and a few things of that sort.”

And then they fell to it again in the old fas.h.i.+on, Kate protesting the absolute incapacity of the average mind for grasping the fine distinctions between those two auxiliaries, which, thank Heaven, have still not wholly lost their special uses on our Eastern coast, and finally, after various thrusts at local usage, ending with the charge that New Englanders more than dwellers in the West are guilty of dropping from their speech the final _g_, a point on which the impartial listener might possibly have thought that she had a little the best of it.

And while the good-natured dispute went on, another and more important conversation was being held in the house on the old county road, where Esther sat with Aunt Katharine in the growing twilight. She had slipped away from her grandfather's as soon as supper was over to make the call.

There had been so many of these calls since her three days' visit there that no one was surprised at them any more or offered to accompany her.

It was recognized by all that there was something of genuine intimacy between these two, an intimacy at which every one smiled except Kate, whose dislike of her lonely old relative seemed to increase with her sister's fondness.

Aunt Katharine had heard the click of the gate as the girl came up, and for once she had hobbled down the walk to greet a guest. There was almost a hungry look in her eyes as they searched the bright young face, and her brother had not inquired more eagerly than she for the particulars of the trip. And Esther went over it all, with a cheery pleasure that warmed her listener's heart, talking as she might have talked to her mother of the things she had seen and felt, gayly, without reserve, and sure always of the interest of the other.

It was a rare hour to Aunt Katharine. Not in years had any fresh young life brought its happiness so willingly to her, and her heart responded with a glow and fulness like the sudden out-leaping of a brook in the spring.

At the last Esther had said, a little wistfully, that she was glad these days had come so late in this summer visit. It was almost ended now, but its climax of pleasure had been reached, and the memory of it would be a joy forever.

”Do you have to go back, both of you, the first of September?” Aunt Katharine asked suddenly. ”Why couldn't _you_ stay a while longer? They don't need you at home for anything special, do they?”

The idea took definite shape as she caught the outlines of it, and her keen eyes kindled. ”You like things here better 'n Kate does, and you're older. S'pose you should stay at the farm and see what a New England fall is like-you can't know your mother's country without knowing that-and then spend the winter in Boston with Stella. She'd like it, and she'd let you into a lot of things you want to know about. I never cared much for pictures and music and such, but you do; and you or' to have a taste of 'em while you're young.”