Part 13 (1/2)
”Oh, yes. We always have plenty of excitement. Too much, I fear. Some of us miss the quiet you enjoy out here among the meadows.”
The rustic meditated upon this a moment, chewing a straw.
”Speakin' of medders, haow's hay sellin'?”
”I don't know, really,” answered Emily. She was not informed on this utilitarian side of the subject.
”Just been shavin' my ten-acre lot daown the road. Did most o' the mowin' ourselves, me and Ike, that's my brother, with the Loomis boy. But he ain't good for much except forkin' it on. You wouldn't s'pose there was a clean ton o' hay on this wagon, would you?”
”No, indeed,” answered Emily. This was true. She would not have ventured any supposition at all as to the weight of the hay.
”Good medder-gra.s.s, too.”
”Do you live in Hillsborough?”
”Aour haouse jest abaout straddles the line, but wife goes to meetin' in Elmwood.”
”I suppose she likes the services better?”
”Nao. You see the Elmwood parson takes all our eggs, and wife thinks 'twouldn't do to spile a payin' customer. Woa! Here comes wife's nephew, Silas Tompkins.”
”Evenin' uncle,” nodded the young man in the buggy.
”Evenin', Silas. Been down to the pasture?”
”Yaas.”
”Well, haow are the oats lookin'?”
”Comin' putty green, Uncle Silas,” drawled the other, speeding by.
Emily was wondering if a life of agricultural labor always gives such a vegetable cast to people's minds, when a clatter of hoofs behind caused her to turn her head. The cavalier was clothed in velvet of a soft, rich bulrush-brown. Just as he pa.s.sed them his eye caught something afar and he shouted to the farmer: ”Here's a runaway! Hug the right of the road!”
They were turning a bend, but across the angle through the bushes a pair of coal-black horses could be seen heading toward them. The farmer's jerking at the reins was comical but effective. In a twinkling he had his nag squeezed against the wall which bounded the narrow road.
”Get up, Aladdin!” whispered the rider, and the horse, a powerful roadster or steeplechaser, yet with limbs like a stag's, cantered forward, as if to meet the wild blacks. But suddenly his master turned him about and began trotting gently back, keeping to the other side of the road and turning his head over his left shoulder toward the approaching runaways. As they slewed around the bend their coachman was flung from his seat into the gra.s.s border of the roadside.
”Rosalie!” exclaimed the waiting cavalier, cutting his horse over the flanks. It bounded away abreast of the team. Emily remembered a vague whirl of spangled reins and a frightened face of rare beauty blus.h.i.+ng through its silver veil.
”He's killed!” she cried, dismounting and running toward the coachman. But the gra.s.s was like a cus.h.i.+on in its midsummer thickness, and he had already picked himself up uninjured, save for bruises and a tattered sleeve.
”It was the gobbler frightened 'em,” he said, starting off at a lame dog-trot after the retreating carriage. Emily turned just in time to witness a rare exhibition of coolness and skill. The chestnut had kept abreast of the blacks with ease. At the right moment his rider, clinging to the saddle and stirrup like a cossack, reached over with his left hand and caught the reins of the foaming pair. Then gradually he slowed up his steeplechaser, jerking powerfully at the bridles. The added weight was too much for the runaways to pull, and all three were ambling peacefully when they faded from sight in a cloud of dust.
”I guess we'll start for hum,” said the farmer. Emily was standing with her finger on her lip, unconscious of his presence.
”Putty slick on a horse, ain't he?”
”Who?”
”Young Arnold. He kin stick on like a clothes-pin, I tell yew.”
”Is that Harry Arnold?”
”'Tain't no one else.”
Emily remembered how his expression had changed when he recognized the lady in peril as ”Rosalie,” and felt like asking the farmer if he knew her. But Griggs (she now learned his name) was prosing on about his new barn, and she relapsed into silence. The rest of their road was an avenue of elms. Through their interstices smiled the calm blue of the late afternoon sky, tempered by contrast with the green of the foliage. It was the first time she had ever observed this rare harmony of colors.
”Woa! There!” said Griggs. ”I'll set you daown here. The Arnolds' house is up yonder over the hill. They ain't p'ticler friends of aours, but the help come over and buy wife's cream.”
”Have they a girl in help named Bertha Lund?”
”I s'pose wife knows the women-folks. I don't,” replied the old man, energetically reaching for his rake.
”A new servant, this is.”
As if to answer her question, there came a loud bark from the little woody knoll on the right of the road, and a great St. Bernard came bounding down. It was Sire, who had recognized Emily. She knew that he had been left in Bertha's charge and probably the housemaid was behind him.
”Sire! Sire!” her cheerful voice was heard calling through the stillness. How fresh she looked with her soft country bloom and a golden tan.
”Is it you, Miss Barlow?” cried Bertha, opening her eyes in amazement. A cream pitcher in one hand revealed her errand, but Farmer Griggs was already half-way to his new barn, which lay fifty yards off the left of the road.
”Yes, Bertha,” answered Emily, fondling Sire, who seemed almost to know that she bore him a message from his master. ”I have come all the way out to meet you.”
”How is poor Mr. Robert?”
”Not very well contented with his present quarters.”
”He is still in jail? Ah, poor young man! What a shame! And Ellen gone, too! It was the beginning of trouble for all of us when the old professor died.”
”It wasn't easy to find you, Bertha. You didn't leave your address with Mrs. Christenson.”
”Indeed I did not.” Bertha gave an independent toss of her head. ”I had no wish to be chased by her and coaxed to come back, and I'm very well satisfied where I am, with my $5 and light duties and out of the city and as kind treatment as if I was a visitor.”
Emily thought she might understand the reason of this bountiful hospitality.
”Mr. s.h.a.garach, the lawyer, who is defending Robert, suggested that I come and see you. You were so near the fire when it broke out, he thought that you might know something that would help our side.”
”That I'll tell heartily. They sha'n't tie my tongue.”
”You don't believe Robert set the fire?”
”No more than I did or Sire.”
Emily looked at the dog, who was crouched before them. He had lifted his head at the mention of his name.
”Ah, Sire, you know the solution of all this mystery, don't you? And you'd tell it if you could.”