Part 1 (2/2)

”Oh, yes,--she and Gertrude, all the Grays. They're as nice and delightful as can be, of course, but somehow they're so literary and quiet, and Mrs. Gray is awfully particular about the girls. She makes them keep on with studying all summer, and she's so exclusive,--she won't let them visit half the new people.”

”Gracious! why not?”

”Oh, I don't know,--she says they're not good form, and all that; but I'm sure she knows queer people enough herself. There is that tiresome old Miss Gisborne down in Was.h.i.+ngton Street,--the girls are forever going there; and I've seen them myself ever so many times coming out of the Hares',--and _they_ take boarders!”

”Fancy! How extraordinary! Oh, there are the frigates!”

For the ”Eolus,” leaving the wooded, wall-like bank of Gould's Island behind, and rounding a point, had now reached the small curving bay to the eastward of Coasters' Harbor, where lay the training-s.h.i.+ps, the ”New Hamps.h.i.+re” and the ”Minnesota.” It was a beautiful sight,--the two great war-vessels at anchor, with their tall tapering spars and flying flags reflected in the water on which they floated. Lines of glinting white flashed along the decks; for it was ”wash-day,” and the men's clothes were drying in the sun. Two or three barges were disembarking visitors at the gangway ladders, and beyond them a sail-boat was waiting its turn to do the same. On the pier a file of blue-uniformed boys were marching with measured tread. The sound of their feet came across the distance like the regular beat of a machine. A girl in a row-boat was just pus.h.i.+ng out from the farther beach, above which rose a stone house covered with vines.

”That's Miss Isherwood,” said one of the young ladies. ”She's a splendid rower, and Tom says she swims as well as he does.”

The whole scene was like enchantment to Candace, who had lived all her life among the hills of Connecticut, and had never till that day seen the ocean. She was much too shy to ask questions, but she sat like one in a dream, taking in with wide-open eyes all the details of the charming view,--the sh.o.r.es, broken by red-roofed villas and cottages rising from clouds of leafy greenery; the Torpedo Island with its tall flag-staff and floating banner over the dwelling of the Commandant; Fort Adams, whose steep glacis seemed powdered with snow just then from the mult.i.tude of daisies in bloom upon them; the light-houses; the soft rises of hill; and beyond, the s.h.i.+mmering heave of the open sea.

Cat-boats and yachts flitted past in the fair wind like large white-winged moths; row-boats filled with pleasure-parties dipped their oars in the wake of the ”Eolus;” steam-launches with screeching whistles were putting into their docks, among old boat-houses and warehouses, painted dull-red, or turned of a blackish gray by years of exposure to weather. Behind rose Newport, with the graceful spire of Trinity Church and the long bulk of the Ocean House surmounting the quaint buildings on the lower hill. The boat was heading toward a wharf, black with carriages, which were evidently drawn up to wait the arrival of the ”Eolus.”

”There's Mrs. Gray's team now, Miss,” said the sharp-eyed Captain; ”come down for you, I reckon.”

The two girls glanced at her and then at each other. They shrugged their shoulders, and Candace heard one of them whisper,--

”Did you ever?” and the reply, ”No; but after all, we didn't say anything very bad, and who would have dreamed that a hat like that had anything to do with the Grays?”

She felt herself blush painfully. The hat was a new one of brown straw trimmed with dark blue ribbon. She had felt rather proud of it when it came home from the milliner's the day before, and had considered the little blue pompon with which Miss Wilson, who was authority in matters of fas.h.i.+on in North Tolland, had enriched the middle bow, as a masterpiece of decoration. Alas! the apple of knowledge was at her lips; already she felt herself blush at the comments of these unknown girls whose hats were so different from her own, and was thoroughly uncomfortable, though she could hardly have told why.

Captain Peleg politely carried her bag for her across the landing-plank to where the ”team,” a glossy coupe with one horse, was waiting. He beckoned to the smart coachman, who wore a dark green overcoat with big metal b.u.t.tons, to draw nearer.

”Here's your pa.s.senger,” he said, helping Candace into the carriage.

”Good-day, Miss. I hope we'll see you again on the 'Eolus.' All right, driver.”

”Oh, thank you,” cried Candace, finding voice and forgetting shyness in her grat.i.tude; ”you've been real kind to me, Captain.”

”That child's got mighty pretty eyes,” soliloquized Captain King, as he marched down the wharf. ”I wonder what relation she is to the Grays.

She don't seem their sort exactly. She's been raised in the country, I expect; but Mrs. Gray'll polish her up if anybody can, or I'm mistaken.

Steady there--what're you about?” as a trunk came bounding and ricochetting across the gangway; ”this wharf ain't no skittle-ground!”

Meanwhile the coupe was slowly climbing a steep side-street which led to the Avenue. Looking forth with observant eyes, Candace noted how the houses, which at first were of the last-century build, with hipped roofs and dormer windows like those to which she was accustomed in the old hill village that had been her birthplace, gave way to modernized old houses with recent additions, and then to houses which were unmistakably new, and exhibited all manner of queer peaks and pinnacles and projections, s.h.i.+ngled, painted in divers colors, and broken by windows of oddly tinted gla.s.s. Next the carriage pa.s.sed a modern church built of pinkish-brown stone; and immediately after, the equable roll of the wheels showed that they were on a smooth macadamized road. It was, in fact, though Candace did not know it, the famous Bellevue Avenue, which in summer is the favorite drive for all fas.h.i.+onable persons, and thronged from end to end on every fair afternoon by all manner of vehicles, from dainty pony-wagons to enormous mail-coaches.

There were only a few carriages in sight now, though they seemed many to our little country maid. Shops were opening for the season. Men were busy in hanging Eastern rugs and curtains up to view, and arranging in the windows beautiful jars and plates of porcelain and pottery, glittering wares from Turkey and Damascus, carved furniture, and inlaid cabinets. Half a dozen florists exhibited ma.s.ses of hot-house flowers amid a tangle of palms and tree-ferns; beyond was the announcement of an ”opening” by a well-known dressmaker, whose windows were hung with more beautiful things than Candace in her small experience had ever dreamed of before,--laces, silks, embroideries.

The shops gave way to houses, each set in a court-yard gay with newly planted beds of flowers or foliage plants. Vines cl.u.s.tered everywhere; the trees, not yet fully in leaf, were like a tossing spray of delicate fresh green: a sense of hope, of expectation, of something delightful which was being prepared for, seemed to be in the air.

Suddenly the coupe turned in between a pair of substantial stone gate-posts, and drew up before a large square house, with piazzas on two sides, and a small but very smooth lawn, whose closely cut gra.s.s looked like green velvet. It was dappled with weeping-trees and evergreens, and hedged with a high wall of shrubs which shut off the view of the street.

A continuous flower-bed ran all round the house close to its walls, planted full of geraniums, heliotrope, nasturtiums, mignonette, and pansies. Every window and balcony boasted its box of ferns or flowers; and in spite of the squareness of the building, and the sombre green-gray with which it was painted, the general effect was of cheerfulness, and shade broken by color,--an effect which is always pleasant.

Candace had forgotten herself in the excitement of new sights and experiences; but her shyness came back with a rush as the carriage stopped and the door was opened by a very smart French butler.

”Is Mrs. Gray at home?” she asked timidly, bending forward.

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