Part 21 (2/2)

Cousin Giles asked.

”Oh, there was a great s.h.i.+pload of goods from India and it seemed almost as if you were walking through the booths at home, only there were no natives and no beggars or holy men----”

”Tut! tut! child; they are not holy men who are too lazy to move and waiting for other people to fill their mouths. If they were here we'd make them work or they'd have to starve. They're talking about missionaries being sent out to convert them. I heard a rousing sermon on Sunday, but it didn't loosen my purse-strings. Your greatest missionary is work, good hard labor, clearing up and planting. Suppose those old _Mayflower_ people had sat down and held out their hands for alms. Do you suppose our Indians would have filled 'em with their corn, and fish, and game? Not much. They'd tied 'em to a tree and set fire to 'em.” When Cousin Giles was excited he made elisions of speech rather unusual for a Boston man. ”They went to work and cut down trees, and built houses, and raised farm and garden truck, and made shoes and clothes, and roads and bridges, and built cities and towns, and shamed those countries thousands of years old. And now we're trying to help them by bringing over their goods and selling them.”

”And creating extravagance, Elizabeth would say,” returned Chilian, with a sort of humorous smile.

”Oh, you might as well keep the money going as to h.o.a.rd it up in an old stocking, so long as it is honestly yours. We're getting to be quite a notable country, Chilian Leverett.”

They turned into Derby Street, and Cousin Giles paused to survey the garden.

”You've lots of things to enjoy here,” he said. ”I don't know but it's a sensible thing to take the good of what you have as you go along. And little Miss here will have enough without your adding to the store. You men of Salem ought to begin to do some big things--build a college.”

”Oh, I think our young men would rather go to Harvard. We don't want to rival you. We shall be the biggest New England seaport. We'll divide up the glories.”

Elizabeth was so taken by surprise that she was rather cross. She liked things planned beforehand. Now the tablecloth must come off. This one had been on since Sunday and it had two darns in it. And the old silver must come out.

”I don't believe Cousin Giles would ever notice,” Eunice said. ”And I do think the china prettier than that old silver.”

”Well, it has the crown mark on it and the Leveretts owned it before they came from England. Giles' folks had some of it, too, but the Lord only knows what he's done with his. I dare say servants have made way with it, or banged it out of shape. Anybody can have china. Come, do be spry, Eunice.”

Cynthia went upstairs and had her hair brushed and a clean ap.r.o.n put on, though the other was not soiled.

”Rachel, what is an heiress?” she asked.

”Why--some one, a woman, who inherits a good deal of money.”

”Does she have to wait until she is a woman?”

”Why, no. Yes, in a way, too. She can have the money spent upon her, but she can't have it herself until she is twenty-one.”

Cynthia wondered how it would seem to go and spend money, buy ever so many things. But she really couldn't think of anything she wanted, unless it was a house of her very own, and books, and pretty pictures, not portraits of old-fas.h.i.+oned men and women. And a pony and a dainty chaise. But then--she was such a little girl, and she wouldn't want to leave Cousin Chilian.

Elizabeth made delicious cream shortcake for supper. Cousin Giles said everything tasted better up here, perhaps it was the clear salt water.

There were so many fresh ponds and streams around Boston. But there were big plans for drainage and for docking out. Then Elizabeth was such a fine cook.

The two men sat out on the stoop in the summer moonlight and Cynthia thought Cousin Giles really quarrelled trying to establish the superiority of Boston. Then they talked about investments and Captain Leverett, and Giles said, ”Cynthia will be one of the richest women of Salem. Chilian, you'll have to look sharp that some schemer doesn't marry her for her money.”

”You must come to bed, Cynthia,” declared Rachel. Through the open window they could hear Cousin Giles' voice plainly.

The men went the next morning to consider an investment Chilian had in view. It had been thought best to divide the sums coming in between Salem and Boston. Then they walked about and saw the improvements, the new docks being built to accommodate the s.h.i.+pping, the great fleet of boats, the busy s.h.i.+p-yard, the hurrying to and fro everywhere. It was not merely finery, but spices and articles used in the arts. Gum copal was brought from Zanzibar. Indigo came in, though they were trying to raise that at the South.

And when Giles saw the new streets and fine houses, and Mr. Derby's, that was to cost eighty thousand dollars, he did open his eyes in surprise. Though he said rather grudgingly:

”It's a shame for one little girl to have all that money. There should have been three or four children. Fifty years ago the Leveretts had such big families they bid fair to overrun the earth, and now they've dwindled down to next to nothing. Chilian, why don't you marry?”

”The same to yourself. Are you clinging to any old memory?”

”Well, not just that. I don't seem to have time. Now you are a fellow of leisure. Get about it, man, and hunt up a wife.”

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