Part 15 (1/2)
After this I had no further intercourse with the fisherman for some days.
If I chanced to meet him in the lane, Rebecca was always with me. He came one evening to the Ark. The young people were there, singing.
Then I heard, from time to time, of his taking Rebecca to drive, and congratulated myself that, through my composed wisdom and forethought, the little world of Wallencamp was destined to move very smoothly, on the whole.
”I wonder why Mr. Rollin don't go home,” observed Grandma Keeler, complacently, on one of those rare occasions when the Keeler family circle held quiet possession of the Ark before the songful company had arrived. ”He didn't use to stay but a week or two at a time, and all the rest o' the fishermen have been gone some time now; and he keeps them horses down here, and goes loungin' around with no more object than a b.u.t.terfly in December.”
”I tell ye he's a makin' up to Beck,” said Grandpa Keeler, with the knowing air of an old man accustomed to fathom mysteries of this peculiar nature.
A spark shot out of Madeline's great, black eyes. Then she laughed unpleasantly. ”There's something in the wind besides Beck,” said she.
”Why, I don't know,” said Grandma; ”he don't hang around there very much, may be, but they say he takes her to ride, and I'm sure he don't wait on n.o.body else. But I should think, if he was a going to speak out he'd ought to do it, and not waste his time a keepin' a puttin' it off. Why, my fust husband wasn't but a week makin' up his mind, and pa,” she continued, referring openly to Grandpa Keeler, ”he wan't quite so outspoken, to be sure; but he came around to it in the course of a month or two, and kind o' beat around the bush then, and wanted to know what I thought on't, and--wall, I told him 'yes,'--I didn't see no use in bein'
squeamish so long as I'd once made up my mind to it.”
”I asked ye as soon as I could!” exclaimed Grandpa, bristling on the defensive. ”I wanted to be sure o' gittin' a house fust.”
”There!” said Madeline briskly, putting down her foot, and tossing her head as she addressed the old couple. ”Be good, children! Be good!--and now, do you mark my words, it isn't Becky Weir that Dave Rollin is hanging around here for. There's some folks to be made up to, and there's some folks, jest as good, to be stepped on. And Dave Rollin--what does he think of Wallencamp folks, anyway? He wouldn't take the trouble to kick 'em out of his road; he'd jest step on 'em, and he's steppin' on Beck Weir. He don't care enough about her to let her alone.”
”Wall, I--don't--know!” said Grandma. ”What's he stayin' for, then?”
”Staying! Lord, ma!” said Madeline sharply, with a strange cold glitter in her eye. ”How do I know what he's stayin' for? Oh,” she added, in a tone of lighter bitterness, ”It's a mild winter and open roads. He's sketching they say, and exploring the Cape. Let him explore from one end to the other, he won't find such another fool as himself.”
”We can't help nothin' by talkin' that way;” said Grandma Keeler, a little pale, though calmly cognizant of Madeline's emotion.
”You know I had an experience of my own once, ma,” said Madeline, terribly white about the lips.
”I wouldn't rake up old wounds, daughter.” There was nothing unfeeling in Grandma Keeler's tone.
The daughter shut her lips together tightly, as though more than she had intended to reveal had already escaped them, and applied herself desperately to her sewing.
I fancied that I had detected a personally aggressive quality in Madeline's indignant tone.
”I don't see why we should feel that way about Rebecca,” I said. ”The more one gets acquainted with her, the more lovable and worthy of respect she seems. I knew a great many girls, at school--girls with every advantage of wealth and culture, too, who had not half of Rebecca's grace and refinement, nor a tenth part of her beauty!”
Madeline said nothing, bending to her work with the same bitter compression of the lips.
”It's right you should stand up for her, teacher,” said Grandma Keeler, pleasantly. ”Miss Waite, she begun by makin' a kind o' pet o' her, but I don't think Rebecca ever set her heart on her as she has on you, and it's easy to see you've took lots o' pains with her. She's a gittin' them same kind o' sorter interestin' high-flowed ways--why, she used to be just like the rest of 'em--jest sich a rompin', roarin' thing as Drussilly Weir is now.”
”Goodness gracious, ma!” Madeline put in again, sharply. ”What good is it going to do Beck Weir to put on airs? Better stick to her own ways, and her own folks--she'll find they'll stand by her best in the end, I guess--than to be fillin' her head with notions to hurt her feelin's over by and by. She's a fool, I think, for treatin' George Olver as she does.
He's worth a dozen Dave Rollins, if his coat don't set quite so fine, and would work his fingers off to suit her if she'd only settle down to him and be sensible.”
”Wall,” said Grandma Keeler, in a tone that was a curious contrast to Madeline's, ”our feelin's won't always go as we'd ought to have em', daughter.”
”No, they won't!” Madeline snapped out excitedly, ”but, ma, you know I'm in the right of it just as well as I do; and there's Lute Cradlebow's got to dreamin' and moonin' around in the same way. Took it into his head he wanted to get an education--well, what hasn't he took into his head!
So he must begin recitin' to teacher. Well, he had in his mind to study, I don't doubt, to begin with, and used to come two or three times a week, and rattle off a string, and now he's here every day of his life, and, if there's any reciting going on, I don't hear it--not that I want to meddle with other folks' business, but I've known those boys a good many years, and I hate to see anybody hurt and run over, even if they be young and ignorant, and making fools of themselves. Some folks are none too good, I think, for all their airs, and had better look out to see where they're going!”
”Why, thar', Madeline!” said Grandma, with a decided touch of disapproval in her voice. ”R'a'ly, seems to me you're kind o' out. I'm sure Luther Larkin seems to be a gittin' along finely with his Latin and Algibbery--I'm sure I've heard a lot of it, when I've been goin' through the room, if you ain't; and if he's took it into his head to git book larnin', and maybe scratch enough together to go away somewheres to school, why, I'm sure, there's older boys than him, and not so bright, have ketched up if they set there minds to it, and as for our teacher--Madeline!”
”Oh, I've no doubt but what Miss Hungerford meant kindly,” said Madeline, with the lightness she could so suddenly a.s.sume. ”It's a mighty queer world, that's all!” she added presently, rising and putting on her bonnet; ”and managed very queerly, for I suppose it is managed. I'm going out, ma. Those children have split my head with their noise to-day, and I promised Patty I'd come in and sit awhile. Now, if I've been cross and crazy, don't you and teacher talk me over,” she said, looking back and trying hard to smile--and she did look very tired and white, as though she had been suffering--”and if those children wake up and begin to squall”--with a glance towards the little bedroom--”let 'em squall. If I've wished it once to-day, I have a hundred times, that they was the other side of sunset!”